It was never just a job. You knew that when you took it.

And now that it's ending or has ended and you're not just dealing with unemployment. You're dealing with the loss of a core part of who you are.

In the last issue we talked about the translation problem: how you describe your work isn't matching what the outside world is looking for. Today I want to go deeper. Because underneath the CV issue there's a bigger concern that's rarely addressed, and until you do, all the CV fixes in the world won't matter.

It's the identity piece.

When you've spent years — often decades — inside a system like the UN, an INGO, or a global health organization, the work doesn't just give you a salary. It gives you a mission. You're the person who works on humanitarian response. You're the one who spent three years in Juba or Kabul or Bangladesh. You're the one your family doesn't quite understand but is still quietly proud of.

It isn't just what you do. It's who you are.

So what happens when the contract ends? Or the restructuring happens and your post is "abolished" — a word that somehow manages to be both bureaucratic and violent at the same time?

You're not just unemployed. You've lost a key part of your story. The thing that explained you to the world and, more importantly, to yourself.

I know how disorienting that is, because I've lived it. Someone asking, "so what do you do?" — and me hesitating, because I didn't have an answer that felt true anymore. Not because I didn't have skills. But because the story I'd been telling for years was gone, and I hadn't figured out the next one yet.

That's a different kind of loss. And we need to talk about it.

When someone asks "what do you do?" and your instinct is to reach for your last title — "I was a Programme Manager at UN…" — that's natural. It's what I did.

But pay attention to the tense. Was. Worked. Past tense.

Every time you say it, you're reinforcing to yourself and to whoever you're speaking with that your value is somehow behind you.

This isn't just a mindset problem. It's structural. The institutions we worked in are genuinely, masterfully good at fusing staff identity with organizational mission. You didn't just work at the WHO. You were someone who worked at the WHO. The badge, the email address, even the shockingly unhealthy cafeteria food (seriously, did they for forget what the “H” stands for) — all of it was part of who you were.

There's a good reason it felt like more than a job. It was.

But here's the thing: the identity you built inside those systems isn't gone. It just needs to be reclaimed in a way that serves you now.

Empathy is step one. But empathy doesn't fix a broken narrative.

To move from "abolished" to "in-demand," you need a system. Here is a 3-step framework to stop speaking in the past tense and start owning what you're actually built for.

The title was a costume of sorts. And it was a useful one — it opened doors, signaled credibility, gave you a shorthand. But it was never really you.

What's genuinely yours: the way you diagnose complex problems, the judgment you bring to high-stakes situations, the instinct you've developed for navigating systems that don't work the way they're supposed to. The label was borrowed. The capability is yours to proudly own.

Exercise: Write down three things you were actually doing in your last role — not your job title, not your KPIs. What problems were you solving? That list is the real you.

Go through your LinkedIn profile, your bio, your CV summary. Circle every "was," "worked," "managed," and "led." These are anchors. They pin your identity to an institution that no longer employs you.

Now rewrite each one around the problem you solve, not the organization that used to pay you to solve it.

Instead of: "I was a Senior Policy Advisor at the African Union" Try: "I help governments turn complex policy mandates into decisions people can actually implement."

Same experience. Completely different meaning.

Here's what most people in this transition miss: the mission didn't end. Only the vehicle did.

If you spent 15 years working on health systems strengthening, that mission — building systems that keep people healthy — doesn't disappear when your contract does. It's transferrable. It can live inside a consultancy, a think tank, a private sector firm, a startup, a government ministry in a new country.

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Right now — before you do anything else, open your LinkedIn profile and read your headline.

If it says "Former [Title] at [Agency]" or lists an organization you no longer work for, you are living in a past narrative. Every recruiter, every potential client, every collaborator who visits your profile sees someone looking backward and not what you’ll bring to your next job.

Delete it.

Replace it with the problem you solve. Not the institution that used to pay you to solve it.

One headline positions you as passive participant . The other positions you as an active resource. Inevitably what companies are look for is what value you will add. Are you worth investing in. The better you can demonstrate that, the more success you will have. It’s just that simple and that complicated.

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You don't need an elevator pitch. They always sound rehearsed and a little desperate. You need two or three sentences that feel true and look forward.

The Bridge: "I spent [X] years helping [organizations/governments/communities] navigate [type of complexity]. Now I'm bringing that same thinking to [new area you're exploring]."

The Skill Lead: "I help [people/organizations] make better decisions in complicated situations. My background is in [sector], and right now I'm focused on [what's next]."

The Honest One: "I'm in a transition right now — figuring out what's next after [X years/sector], and how to best use everything I've built. Honestly, it's one of the more interesting problems I've worked on."

They're not scripts. They're frameworks. Try one this week and notice which one feels like something you'd actually say out loud. That's the one to keep.

There's something AI is quietly good at that most people don't think to use: finding the through-line in your career that you're probably too close to see yourself.

Give it a try. The response might surprise you

Grief.

You're not grieving a paycheck, though you'll certainly miss it. You're grieving belonging. That sense of purpose you had walking in each morning. The community that understood the acronyms, the dark humor, the inside references. A version of yourself that made sense to the people around you, because they were living it too.

The people who move through this best aren't the ones who push past the grief. They're the ones who let themselves feel it, without letting it take over the decisions.

You can miss what you had and still move forward. Those two things can be true at the same time.

One thing that helps: just talk to someone. A friend, a former colleague, and or a professional. You'll be surprised how much lighter it feels once it's not just bouncing around inside your head.

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Next issue: which markets genuinely value your experience and how to find them without sending out 200 applications into the void.

As always, I'd love to hear from you if any of this resonated and/or with what you need right now. Reply and tell me where you are in this.

Hope this was helpful!

Andrea

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P.S. If you're trying to make your experience make sense to people outside your world, this is exactly what I work on with people. We figure out what you've actually been doing, how to talk about it so it lands, and where to look when the obvious paths aren't working. Want support? Reply. Let's talk.

I'm also building a course that goes deeper — strategy, job search tools, AI, alternative careers, and the identity work nobody else is addressing. If that's something you'd want, tell me. I'm building based on what people actually need.