Today, at work, I found out that my workplace will be starting Workforce Adjustment(WFA) procedures next week. We were warned in September, and uncertainty has been a constant source of stress ever since. This is the second time I’ve been through this during my working career. The last time was in 2012, when I was able to keep my job – a true miracle – despite all my colleagues losing theirs.

WFA is the process used by employers to cut or restructure jobs when there are reductions in employment, when an activity is being terminated, when a work activity is being transferred or when the workplace is being moved to another service provider. The intention is to retain as many employees as possible, yet when you are going through this situation, it often feels like no one is safe. These reviews happen every 10-20 years as priorities and the budget shifts. So, I’m going through a very stressful period, and it is not over yet.

The uncertainty is overwhelming. We had plans to renovate the house and go on vacation, but now they’re postponed … because we honestly don’t know if we’ll have jobs next week. It’s not just me. My husband’s work is in the same situation, which is adding to our stress.

When I think back to my childhood, I don’t remember my parents facing this level of job insecurity. Jobs seemed stable, salaries came steadily, and life generally seemed more predictable. What we are experiencing now is destabilizing. These times just don’t encourage people to make long-term plans for family or anything else. When your job can suddenly change from one month to the next, how can you plan for anything? I am a planner, and I dislike surprises and uncertainty. For me, this situation is less than ideal.

I do not yearn for a particular socio-political system or a particular era. I long for predictability – for those carefree days when my parents took care of everything and the future seemed simpler. Adult life is difficult and, despite the general idea that it should get easier, it often doesn’t.

Maybe I needed to openly voice my fears and my stress to ease the burden, if only for a minute. The lesson, if there is one, is that what we can’t control requires us to practice letting things go. It’s not easy, yet by naming the worry, the road clears, and I find the courage to move forward.

And yet, I choose hope. I can keep my plans in pencil and still make room for the little, tangible things – my morning coffee, a morning walk outside, meeting with my team, calling my family, taking time to rest. I can focus on what’s at hand: being present, putting in the hard work, treating people with kindness and looking after my health. Times are changing. Jobs are stabilizing. Renovations can wait. Vacations can resume. Until then, I’ll hold on to the idea that hope is actually a simple project, adjustable when needed but strong enough to push me forward.