I keep posting on LinkedIn. Like, multiple times a week. Sharing articles on distributed systems architecture, dropping little "productivity hacks" about optimizing your sprint velocity. Responding to old colleagues’ updates with super insightful comments about market trends or emergent tech. It’s pathetic. I know it is. I was laid off, almost two months ago now, and I’m still out here performing this elaborate pantomime of competence and relevance. Like a digital zombie, mindlessly generating content. The first week, it was… shock, I guess. Numbness. Then the panic set in, a low hum under everything. My severance runs out soon. My partner’s salary barely covers the mortgage and our kid’s daycare, let alone the specialist appointments for my dad. He’s been declining fast, and his care needs are constant. I’m the one managing it all, the appointments, the medication schedules, the insurance calls. “Just lean on me,” my partner said, which is sweet, but also, how? With what? I’m the primary logistical coordinator for three other human beings. My identity got… subsumed. My work was the last piece that was just *mine*. So yeah, I’m still *that guy* online. The one with the hot take on serverless functions. The guy who always has a useful perspective on scaling microservices. Because if I stop, if I just go silent, then what? Then everyone knows. Then my friends, who are all still crushing it at their Series C startups, they’ll know. My ex-boss will see my profile go dark and probably assume I finally burned out or something. And the truth is worse, right? The truth is I’m just… unemployed. Not "taking a sabbatical." Not "exploring new opportunities." Just… unemployed. Sometimes I type out a real post. Something like, "Hey LinkedIn, remember that time I got laid off? LOL. Anyway, here’s how I’m actually spending my days now: wrestling a toddler into socks and coordinating elder care with a revolving door of exasperated nurses." But then I delete it. Every single time. Because the idea of that exposure, that vulnerability, it feels like a literal physical punch to the gut. It’s like a cognitive dissonance generator, this whole situation. I preach transparency in leadership, but I can’t even be transparent about my employment status. The hypocrisy is… rich. Like a fine, bitter wine. The weirdest part? When I get a "Great post, [My Name]!" or an "Always insightful!" comment, there's this tiny, perverse flicker of satisfaction. Like I’m still fooling them. Still relevant. Still *me*. Even though I’m sitting here in sweatpants, with baby food on my t-shirt, having just spent an hour on hold with Medicare, I’m still out there projecting this crisp, professional image. It's an illusion of agency, I think. Or maybe just a coping mechanism. A really stupid, exhausting coping mechanism. God, I’m so tired. What am I even doing.