The Quiet Grief of Job Loss for First-Gen Latinas

You land your first job and everything feels like it’s finally coming together. You’re proud, maybe even a little relieved. For the first time, it feels like you’ve made it. Then, out of nowhere, it all disappears. You get the notice: you’re being laid off. Your access is cut off immediately. You’re told not to contact anyone. It’s sudden. Disorienting. And it hurts.

You turn to your loved ones and community for support. What you often hear is, “Don’t worry, something better will come along.” They mean well. They want to comfort you and help you move forward. But sometimes those words, as kind as they sound, can feel like a quiet dismissal. As if the grief you’re carrying is too much for others to hold.

In our cultura, we don’t always give space to the emotions we find uncomfortable. We rush to make things better. We say “you’ll be fine” because we don’t want to sit in someone else’s sadness. But losing a job doesn’t feel fine. It can feel devastating, especially when that job wasn’t just work. It was a symbol. A culmination of your family’s sacrifices. A marker of everything you were told would make it all worth it.

And then there’s the way it happens. Often abruptly. Sometimes coldly. A random meeting appears on your calendar first thing in the morning. You walk in and find yourself sitting across from someone you’ve never met before, or maybe an HR representative beside a trusted colleague or manager. Minutes later, you’re locked out. You’re left trying to make sense of what just happened while also feeling the pressure to figure out what comes next. There’s rarely space to pause. Rarely a moment to say, “This hurt. I need time.”

I’ve seen this grief in my clients and in my loved ones. We don’t talk enough about how job loss cuts deeper for first-gen Latinas. It can shake our sense of identity and worth. For many of us, that job represented a lifelong dream of stability and the hope of building generational wealth. Losing it can feel like starting from zero all over again, once more carrying the weight of building something from scratch. We deserve to grieve. We deserve to name the sadness, the shame, and the anger. And we deserve a community that holds space for it, not one that rushes past it.

When you grow up focused on survival, it can be hard to make space for healing. But that space matters. Grieving the change is part of the process. You may feel like you don’t have time, but even taking an hour to go for a walk or giving yourself permission to wallow for a moment can help you acknowledge the magnitude of the loss. Will you figure it out? Absolutely. But the moment right after job loss is not the moment you have to figure everything out.

If you’re reading this and thinking, I have obligations. I don’t have time. I don’t have the luxury of waiting, I get it. I’m not here to minimize the urgency you may feel about finding your next job. But even if your time feels limited, give yourself ten minutes. Breathe. Sit with it. Welcome the messages of support. Let people help you. Lean into your network to find another opportunity. But don’t skip the part where you care for yourself, too. All of the emotions you’re feeling are part of the process. They do not represent weakness or self-indulgence. They are a deeply human response to something that matters.

Making space for that grief is an act of resistance and an act of self-love, especially for first-gen Latinas who were never taught that it was okay to pause. And just to be clear, I’m not saying give up. I’m saying pause. Acknowledge the grief. Let yourself feel it. Lastly, if you’re supporting someone through a layoff, be willing to sit in that discomfort with them. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can say is, “That really sucks. I’m so sorry to hear that. How can I best support you right now?” Offer that emotional support before jumping into solutions.

Let’s create a community where rest, grief, and gentleness aren’t earned but honored.

Dr. Lisette Sanchez is a bilingual licensed psychologist and founder of Calathea Wellness, a virtual practice providing individual therapy in California. She has a passion for working with BIPOC folxs and first-generation professionals.