The Layoff Grievance Cycle

/ aka (also known as) what happens when your job ghosts you—but with paperwork.

Let’s talk about it: getting laid off (or fired) isn’t just a career moment. It’s a full-blown emotional rollercoaster, complete with plot twists, investigative work, and possibly a midweek workout class you didn’t plan to book.

I still remember my first layoff. I was in my early twenties. Fresh in my career, working in the world of HR, and wildly underprepared for what came next. Leadership gave me less than 24 hours' notice to lay people off—and then asked me to write my own layoff letter. I had no clue what I was doing. I cried after every termination conversation. Then I packed up my things, walked from the office to the GO Train, and just… broke down. I remember thinking: What did I do wrong? I retraced every conversation, every email, every interaction.

To be fair, I’m probably in a very niche percentage of people who had to lay themselves off in their early twenties. It was uncomfortable, isolating, and jarring. And yes, I absolutely Googled: Is this even legal?

Whether you were laid off or terminated, the emotional fallout can feel pretty similar. Over the years, I’ve processed a few of these exits—not just mine, but those of my friends, former coworkers, and clients. That’s how this framework came to life. 

"The Layoff Grievance Cycle" wasn’t developed in isolation—it was shaped by conversations, long voicenotes, and rage-texts exchanged between people who’ve lived it, too.

So here it is, broken down into the seven phases most of us go through—whether we admit it or not.

Phase 1: “Wait… what just happened?”

It starts with a suspiciously short calendar invite and ends with: “We’re restructuring.” Translation: you’re out. But your brain? Still buffering.

You replay every word. Did they imply this was my fault? Was I underperforming or just under-supported? 

You start questioning your manager’s role. Did they go to bat for me—or just let me get cut like a budget line item? 

And yes, you’ll absolutely Google: Is this legal? Can they even do that?

Phase 2: The Investigation™

Your phone’s in your hand before you even realize it.

You’re on their Instagram. Your (now ex) coworkers are posting latte art from an offsite. Did they know? You maybe unfollow one or two. Or all of them. No shame. Protect your energy.

Then you open LinkedIn. Your former CEO is posting “5 lessons from failure” and you’re like… Wow. Ok. Or worse—“We’re hiring!”

And suddenly you’re questioning everything: Wait, why did they let me go?

Why me and not the person who just joined last week?

Phase 3: The Council Assembles

You phone a friend. Or five. You retell the story like a murder mystery: “…and then they said ‘we’re exploring other directions’—LIKE WHAT?”

Your bestie demands more severance. Your partner is Googling employment lawyers before you finish the rant.

Phase 4: The Severance Spiral™

You re-read the offer. Then again. Then again with a highlighter like it’s the LSAT. You ask: Should I just take it? Am I getting lowballed?

Cue the internal debate: Do I lawyer up? (And honestly? Sometimes the answer is yes.)

💡 What’s a release form? It’s the “you promise not to sue us or spill the tea” document you sign in exchange for severance. Once signed, you legally agree to keep it zipped—even if they very much deserve to be dragged online.

Phase 5: The Freedom High

Somewhere between rage and legal advice, a strange feeling creeps in… relief. No more Slack/Teams. No more pointless stand-ups. No more fake smiling through “quick check-ins.” You’re free.

You briefly consider writing a Glassdoor review… but don’t. Growth.

Phase 6: The Ex-Coworker Recon

Someone slides into your DMs. They “want to check in” (translation: they want the tea). Will you go? Maybe. Depends on your mood—and whether they paid for coffee last time.

Phase 7: Main Character Mode

You book a workout class. At 11am. On a Wednesday. It feels like you’re skipping school. You walk out into the daylight and think: “Wow. Life is actually… better.”

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Let’s get real for a second.

If you’re navigating a layoff or termination, here’s my biggest advice: don’t do anything right away. Sit with it. Let the emotions come. Cry if you need to. Process it before you start planning what’s next.

💼 If you’re an employee

Protect yourself. Save your receipts. Keep a folder of feedback, note your wins, document 1:1s. This isn’t being paranoid—it’s being prepared.

👩🏽‍💼 If you’re a manager or employer

And if you’re in the thick of it right now? Take the break. Talk to the lawyer. Don’t text the ex-manager. And when you’re ready—book that 11am Pilates class. You’ve earned it.

Whenever you're ready—follow me on LinkedIn. Every Friday, I share Weekly Job Round-Ups to help you find what’s next.