When the Job Ends But the Grief Keeps Going

I’ve faced cancer and a home invasion, and yet here I was—curled up in the back of a doorless Jeep in 55-degree weather, taking a nap at a baseball field because grief, apparently, doesn’t care about timing or appearances.

Hello loves. If you haven’t read Part 1 of this story, go check it out. This is Part 2: The Grief Rollercoaster.

I’ve been staring at this blank page for 30 minutes, and if you know me, you know that’s not normal. Words are my thing. They’re how I process and how I heal. But this? This one hit different. Seven days post-layoff and the emotional hangover is real.

When RedfinNow was built, it wasn’t just work. It was a piece of our hearts. And when it was dismantled, it wasn’t just a layoff. It felt like our creativity, our sweat, our vision—torched. They didn’t just let us go; they buried the house we built.

So yes, I’ve been grieving. And I’ve been riding the weirdest rollercoaster of emotions, one awkward seatbelt click at a time. Here’s how it went down:

Day 3: Shut Down I tried to be normal. Baseball game with friends? Sure. But by inning two, I was falling asleep in my seat. I left quietly and curled up in my Jeep—which, by the way, still has no doors or windows because summer mode—and slept hard. Like, full-camp-style-in-the-parking-lot hard. The week had caught up to me.

Day 4 & 5: Productivity Overdrive I KonMari’d my office. Redfin who? I returned tech, wrote blog posts, scrubbed walls, refinished furniture—all in an effort to feel in control. But even in my sleep, the layoffs haunted me. I kept dreaming about being fired.

Day 6: Spiral Central On Monday, I showed up at my new desk by 8am. I even had an interview. But it felt off. I was bitter, numb, floating. I watched Yellowstone, avoided the shower, stayed in pajamas, and wept while staring at the ceiling. And honestly? It felt efficient.

This isn’t me. I usually power through. But this time, I didn’t have it. And you know what? That’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay.

Day 7: Disruption & Decision A friend called. She was laid off too, and still managed to remind me of the good, the joy, the truth. Her words were the push I needed. Today, I choose to move forward.

This is my closure.

Redfin doesn’t get to define my worth. I do. I’ll land where I’m meant to be. I’ll give just as much heart and hustle. But I’ll also remember to take showers and not sleep in Jeeps.

Joy is a rebellious act in the face of loss. And I’m ready to rebel.

Grief isn’t linear. It’s not tidy. It’s a free fall. But the ground doesn’t disappear beneath us. We find new footing, eventually. And we remember we’re not alone.

Thanksgiving is coming. What better time to recalibrate? Grieve and give thanks. Rest and rise. We get to do both.

Dear Me,

Letter to Self

You’re not broken. You’re just between chapters. What you built mattered. What you feel is valid. And what comes next will be beautiful, not because of the job, but because of who you are.

You don’t have to rush. Just move. Even if it’s from bed to shower.

You’ve got this.

With grace,

Me