"I have to let you go": what a firing really stirs up (part 2)

In the previous article we said what nobody wants to name: being laid off hurts. Not because of the phrase. Not because of the process. It hurts because it displaces you, exposes you, touches your narcissism, your shame, your fear of not having been enough. And the worst part: nobody talks about it. They just tell you "it wasn't personal." Read part one

We also said that the quick, clean script that so many companies repeat doesn't help. Because a layoff isn't just a professional cut. It's a loss. And if it isn't processed, it turns into trauma.

Those who lay people off feel it too

You feel it too. Even if you hide it. Even if you rehearse every phrase to "not make it worse."

Letting someone go isn't just communicating a decision. It's breaking a bond. It's causing pain. And if you do it on autopilot, that pain doesn't disappear— it gets distributed: it's carried by the person who leaves, the ones who stay… and also you.

Both hide the same thing: the discomfort of affecting someone else. Of causing pain and suffering. To avoid feeling it, the easy way out shows up: becoming "professional." Cold. Technical. Distant.

But a layoff isn't a neutral procedure. It stirs up power, responsibility, vulnerability.

When letting someone go becomes a test of power

Letting someone go can trigger dangerous fantasies:

• •"Now they will know who is in charge."
• •"Whoever does not perform, leaves."
• •"I am in control."

But leading isn't about having the power to eliminate. It's about holding bonds— even when it's time to close them.

The narcissistic leader believes they're invulnerable, the owner of the truth. They use the layoff as a display of power. But nobody is exempt. Today you're in that position. Tomorrow it could be reversed.

Accepting your vulnerability does not take away your authority. It makes you more human. More capable of connecting.

It was not all their fault: what a layoff also says about you

Even though the decision is already made, ask yourself:

• •What does this layoff say about my team?
• •Were expectations communicated?
• •Were there leadership mistakes, lack of support, communication problems?
• •What could I have done differently… or the company?
• •Was it an environment where growth was possible?

A layoff is never an isolated event. It's a symptom. Of something that's no longer working in the team's dynamic or the organization's culture. If you don't learn from it, the problem will repeat itself.

Grief stays too

Respect for the one who leaves. For the team that stays. For the company. For you.

The grief isn't just the departing person's. It's also lived by those who were part of the bond. If it isn't processed, it gets stuck and turns into cynicism, fear, or distrust.

The hard part is not letting someone go. It is staying to hold the other person's reaction.

Tears. Rage. Silence. Shouting. Emotional blackmail. All of that can happen. And you need to be ready. Not to defend yourself, but to hold space.

It's not about having all the answers or fixing anything. It's about opening a space where the other person can feel and speak. Without judgment or rushing. Just holding their singularity and their pain. That's what respect looks like for the person, and for the professional who gave their time and energy to the company.

And the ones who stay, what do they do with what they feel?

When someone gets laid off, the impact doesn't stay only with that person. The team lives it too. If nothing is said, what shows up isn't clarity. It's anxiety.

"Am I next?" "What did I do wrong?" "Can I not trust anyone anymore?"

And an equally dangerous fantasy also shows up: believing all the bad went away with the person who left. That illusion can create a false euphoria, as if the system had been magically "cleaned up." But it's just a defense against thinking about what hurts.

When a leader understands the impact of the loss, trust doesn't disappear. It gets stronger.

Closing well is also part of leading

Many companies cut off email access immediately, restrict access, avoid goodbyes. It can make operational sense. But psychologically, it leaves the experience hanging. Without closure. Without meaning.

A layoff is a kind of death within the working world. And like every death, it needs a ritual. When someone leaves without a word, without an explanation, what's left is confusion, shame, resentment. The team feels that too.

And you, how do you want to do it?

Letting someone go does not make you a bad person. But how you do it does say something about you.

Work isn't just productivity. It's bond, desire, subjectivity. Every layoff puts that on the line. A poorly handled layoff doesn't just affect the one who leaves. It can leave wounds in everyone who stays.