Navigating Unemployment as a Creative

Written by Lana Nassir

I believe every person on this planet has a purpose—whether still undiscovered or quietly waiting for a future version of ourselves to step into it. But what does “Corporate America” truly mean when stripped down to its essence? The phrase often evokes a blend of finance, accounting, and the polished surfaces of our rapidly evolving technological world. Yet at its core, it can feel like a void—something plain, something hollow.

My theory is that emptiness takes on a different form in the realm of creativity. Here, it doesn’t feel like a void but instead a fullness—warm, expansive, alive. It is passion disguised as emptiness, the very fuel that drives the artist forward. What matters is how we choose to ignite it, and whether we trust it enough to let it grow. In that light, the belief in the inner child within us feels less like a distant hope and more like a transparent truth.

Now, with all of that in retrospect, how am I navigating and surviving the current state of the world, you might ask? The truth is, I may still be asking alongside you. One way has been returning to passion projects and reconnecting with the roots of what my creative self once did—before I silenced that part of her. I entrusted myself too easily to a world structured by the bones of this country. My only fault was in staying stagnant, locked in the comfort of familiarity. It was a dreadful time, though I hardly realized it, because I had grown used to the congestion—financially stable, yet creatively starved. Essentially, money spoke where fulfillment did not. This reality became especially stark when I experienced job loss at the sheer age of twenty-six, working from home for six years, a pivotal moment that forced me to reassess my priorities and direction.

I am a firm believer in the art of loss as a path to gain. By that, I mean a person often needs to endure a life-altering event—or several—to shed what no longer serves them. It’s easy to contemplate in theory, but it became painfully real for me this past year. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but I can say it pushed me into self-reflective growth. I picked up the pace, allowed myself to wallow, and gave myself permission to be my sadness—if only for a while.

That process was crucial. I tuned into every emotion—anger, desperation, belligerence, depression, anxiety, excitement, joy, confusion, stress, intrusive thoughts—and let my mind run rampant. Why? Because doing so strained away what was no longer essential to my current self. I’m still in the middle of this process, even as I write.

So here’s my advice: in times of hopelessness, especially during something like job searching, be coherent about why you feel what you feel. Keep a journal close. Write everything down. If not words, then draw it, break it, destroy it, but understand it. Wallowing has no place to go if you don’t let it, and that’s when things become lost in translation.

If you take away anything from my words, let it be this: it’s not the end. It may feel like it—especially if you are like me—but it won’t always be this way. Feel your feelings. Tap into your creative mind. Trust that even loss can serve as fuel. I couldn’t break free from my own comfort, so the universe had to do it for me.