I was laid off last month from my job as a university administrator

Dear Uncle Gary,

I was laid off last month from my job as a university administrator. I didn’t tell my wife right away because I truly believed I’d find something quickly and then explain it once I had good news to soften the blow. But here we are, a month later, no interviews, no prospects, and I’m still pretending to go to work every morning.

I feel ashamed, stuck, and scared. I know I need to tell her, but I don’t know how to begin. I’ve never lied to her like this before, and I’m afraid this will break something between us.

How do I come clean without losing her trust?

Signed, Out of Work and Out of Words

Dear Out of Work and Out of Words,

Let me start with the obvious: you’re not the first person to get laid off, and you sure won’t be the last. But the part that’s eating at you isn’t the job loss, it’s the silence. It’s the mornings spent pretending, the afternoons spent refreshing job boards, and the nights spent rehearsing the conversation you still haven’t had.

You didn’t lie because you’re cruel. You lied because you were scared. You wanted to protect your wife, protect your pride, protect the illusion that everything was still under control. That’s not evil. That’s human.

But here’s the thing. Silence has a shelf life. And yours is starting to smell.

You need to tell her. Not because you’re ready, but because it’s time. Because every day you wait, the truth gets heavier and the trust gets thinner. And the longer you carry this alone, the harder it’ll be to put it down.

So how do you do it?

You sit her down. You take a breath. And you say something like this:

“I need to tell you something I should’ve said a month ago. I lost my job. I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I’d fix it before you had to know. But I haven’t. And I’m sorry.”

Then you stop talking. You let her react. You let her feel whatever she needs to feel. And you stay in the room.

Because this isn’t just about employment. It’s about partnership. It’s about showing her that when things fall apart, you don’t disappear. You show up.

Now, she might be upset. She might be hurt. She might ask why you didn’t trust her with the truth. And you’ll have to answer that. Not with excuses, but with honesty.

“I was ashamed. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I thought I could fix it before it became a problem.”

That’s not a weakness. That’s accountability.

And here’s the part you need to remember. You’re not just telling her you lost a job. You’re telling her you’re ready to stop hiding. That’s the beginning of the repair. That’s the beginning of real intimacy.

You’re still in the game. You’re still capable. You’re still worthy of love, respect, and a damn good comeback story.

So go tell her. Not because you have a solution. But because you finally have the courage to be seen.

Best Regards, Uncle Gary