All The Right Moves: Don't Lose Hope

19. I've gone from being anxious about my future to being scared. How do I face my fears?

Dear Desperately Trying Not to Seem Desperate:

Any job loss comes with some heartbreak. It can dredge up feelings of grief, anger, betrayal, bitterness, and regret. Those feelings are normal. The trick is figuring out how to move on.

It takes time to recover from such a loss -- to get over the shock and disorientation and to process your new circumstances. If you can afford it, three months is a good interlude between jobs: It's long enough to allow you to reassess where you've been and where you want to go next but not so long that the stresses associated with long-term unemployment kick in.

Regardless of the time you take between jobs, it's important to build an interim structure to your day in order to replace the old patterns of work. The brain functions best when there's structure. Make a schedule that you honor every day. Get up at a regular hour, get dressed, exercise, get adequate sleep, and keep a journal. The journal is particularly important as a way of dealing with the emotional upheaval of the transition. It gives you a place to vent, with no judgment about what you're saying or feeling, and it allows you to process your experience. It also takes that top layer of what you're feeling -- all the obsessive thinking -- and moves it onto the page. I suggest writing early in the morning -- maybe a page or two -- to capture dream fragments, hopes, and fears.

Don't write off this exercise as just New Age hokum. In Opening Up: The Healing Power of Expressing Emotions (Guilford Press, 1997), author James Pennebaker reported on a study in which unemployed people were asked to write down their deepest thoughts about job loss in a journal. Eight months later, they had more than twice the success in finding a job than those who just wrote about job-seeking plans. There is also some evidence that writing about stressful life experiences boosts emotional health. Plus, it's a lot cheaper than seeing a shrink.

Sincerely,
Ruth Luban
Counselor and author of Are You a Corporate Refugee? A Survival Guide for Downsized, Disillusioned, and Displaced Workers (Penguin, 2001)

20. I still have a job -- but it's killing me. How do I do more with less?

Many of us felt overwhelmed when times were good and offices were full. Now, with massive layoffs, many folks are doing not just their own work, but also that of former colleagues. It's a surefire prescription for stress. But who's brave enough to walk into the boss's office and say, "You're asking the impossible"?

You may have to if you want to stay sane, says productivity guru David Allen, author of the upcoming book Ready for Anything: 52 Productivity Principles for Work and Life (Viking, September 2003). "The current situation is making it much easier for people to have the discussions that they should have been having all along," he says. "There's permission to say, 'We know we can't get it all done.' "

But before you go charging up to your supervisor with a plan to do less, Allen says that you'd better figure out if you're really overworked -- or just underorganized. He recommends the following steps for bringing order to an out-of-control job: First, throw all of your loose papers into a giant inbox. Second, sort through those papers, review your notes and calendar, and turn them all into action items. Next, put those action items on a giant list. Finally, sort them into various categories that work for you. This should show you the scope of your responsibilities.

Doubtless, you'll find yourself with more to do than you can manage. Take this opportunity to schedule a conversation with your boss to sort out what's critical and what's expendable. Rest assured, you aren't the only one asking for relief. Allen says that his business grew 20% last year, mostly from companies on the tail end of a downsizing: "They are trying to give people the tools they need so that they don't turn to toast." Linda Tischler

21. How do I bounce back from setbacks?

When you blow a game, you feel like the 26th man on a 25-man team. But you can't dwell on it. It's tough enough to face a batter, let alone a crowd, without having last night's game on your mind. I have to focus on the situation I'm in, make it one-on-one, pitcher and batter, nothing else.

When I come in to the game, I try to do the same thing every time. I jog across the outfield grass, then stop and walk across the infield dirt. I warm up with a couple of fastballs, breaking balls, off-speed pitches, then one last fastball. I make sure that I do the sign of the cross. It helps get me into my comfort zone.

A baseball team is about chemistry. If I get down on myself -- if I'm the one guy who becomes the bad apple -- it can affect the other guys. Whenever I pitch badly, I always want the ball the next day. I'm itching for it so I can make up for what I did. We're all human. We're going to give up home runs, but the good relievers bounce back.