It’s a disruption at best, and apocalyptic at worst.

Jane Austen famously wrote: “I cannot bear to think he is alive in the world and thinking ill of me ...” 

While this is more romantic in meaning, the sense of panic that someone has weighed you, judged you and found you wanting can be a sucker punch to the gut that winds you and makes you lose your lunch. At least, I know it was for me.

Many years ago, in a land before time, I took on a job in outback Western Australia as an administrator.

I took over the role after the person before me (it was a family business and she had been the daughter in law – no pressure!) had developed all of the systems and procedures herself and run the office like a machine. For more than 10 years.

The office manager (aka the daughter) couldn’t understand why I wasn’t as familiar with all of the procedures as my predecessor was after just three weeks in the role.

To make matters worse, the boss had a thick Irish brogue and I couldn’t understand what he said!

It was high-pressure. Because of the expectations, it was stressful, it was exhausting. I didn’t particularly enjoy it and the pay wasn’t great either.

Regardless, I was upset when I was called into the office manager’s office and given “the talk.” She told me they liked me, that I was great with the customers, but they were letting me go because I wasn’t fast enough with learning the three million office procedures. She didn’t phrase it quite like that, but in a nutshell, that’s what it was. And I ugly cried. Not even the promise of an excellent reference dried the well.

I failed to be professional, I failed to sit up straight and take it on the chin, I failed to listen to the constructive criticism and not take it personally, I failed all round. And then I ugly cried all the way home.

When I got home, my panic spiralled further. How will we pay the bills? Buy food? I went home and jumped on the internet through a glaze of tears and began panic applying.

I panic-wrote my resume and I panic-wrote my cover letter.

I wondered how I would ever remove this blight off my career record. I wasn’t the kind of person who got fired.

I wasn’t the kind of person who burned bridges. I was the damned teacher’s pet for God’s sake!

But, it turns out, it quite often happens to all of us at some point in our careers.

Looking back on my experience, I did several things wrong.

When you find yourself in this boat, you have to give yourself time to grieve the loss of your job.

At the very least it is a routine, a group of acquaintances, a sense of purpose.

Wallow with ice cream and Netflix, but do so for a set period of time.

Give yourself two days. After that, you need to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start to see the rainbow at the end of the storm.

Seek out a career counsellor to help if you need it.

The greatest loss with the loss of a job is often that sense of identity.

When you introduce yourself to others, what you do for a living is usually the first question asked and not having anything to say can feel demoralising.

You need to separate your value and self-worth from your job.

You don’t lose your professional identity by losing your job.

You are still a teacher, a labourer, a lawyer, a cleaner – the skills haven’t been left behind in the job you left! Take back your professional identity.

You also need to take stock. What could you have done differently?

By taking responsibility for your part of the situation, you can move forward and accept it more freely.

Finally, see this experience as the opportunity it is.

How can you take what you have learned and apply it differently in your next step?

Make peace with what happened and use it well. You win some, you learn some.

Zoë Wundenberg is a careers writer, counsellor and coach at impressability.com.au