Transforming professional disappointments into creative fuel for your next chapter
In every major career or life transition, you have to face what you lost.
Because it’s not just the job, is it? It’s not just the title, the pay, the people you loved working with, the things you learned, or the routine.
On the flip side, there were likely betrayals. Tough compromises. An opportunity you didn’t take because you were being “practical.” Probably a colleague or two who stole your work, or took credit for it. There were promotions you deserved but never got, and values you traded in for stability.
Whether the experience was good, bad, or a confusing mix of both, you didn’t walk out of that chapter unchanged. You’re not the same person who entered that corporate machine.
Grief doesn’t fit neatly into a “lessons learned” section of your LinkedIn profile.
But it might make you want to throw something, scream into a pillow, or just lie on the floor. In my case, maternity discrimination made it really hard to get out of bed before 10am – even with two little kids running around. I just couldn’t stop wonder what the hell I’d been doing and replaying scenarios where things could’ve been different.
I work primarily with the Goddess Isis and Ancient Egyptian cosmology, which is primarily concerned with death, the afterlife, and grief. So I turned there with new eyes, and found a few techniques I want to share with you here.
In their myths, grief was a powerful, sacred, and even magical energy. It could transform the course of events and is a necessary energy to spark resurrection. And, importantly, it certainly wasn’t something to just “get over.”
No one embodies this more than Isis and her sister Nephthys, the divine mourners who tended to the dead and midwifed the possibility of new life.
Let me introduce you to them.
The Two Sisters at the River: Isis and Nephthys
In my first post in this Scorpion Medicine series, we talked about how Set murdered and dismembered Osiris. You already know Isis —the devoted searcher, the gatherer of scattered pieces, and the one who refused to accept death as the final word.
But Nephthys is equally essential to this story, and she’s often overlooked. These two goddesses took on the sacred work of mourning and transformation.
Nephthys, Lady of the Temple
Nephthys is Isis’s sister and also Set’s wife. This places her in an incredibly complex position: she’s connected to both the victim and the perpetrator, to both death and the desire for life.
She was associated with the rituals of mourning, the night or darkness, temple services, as well as embalming and protection of the dead. Like her sister, she also has potency in magic, healing, and looking after birthing mothers.
What I discovered with Nephthys is that she’s also a steady guardian for the things that I’m not ready to face.
In funerary rituals, Nephthys stands at the foot of the coffin while Isis stands at the head. Together, they create a container: a sacred holding space for the dead to transform safely into spirit.
Metaphorically speaking, there are some things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Old hurts, sure, but also dreams. When I became a mother and the breadwinner, I had to put my artwork and paintings aside. As child number two came along, I also decided to put on hold my dream to write a book. These things I’ve given to Nephthys, so watch over in the spirit world before I am ready to bring them to Isis for resurrection.
Isis, Lady of Magic
Isis, on the other hand, is the active transformer. She’s the one who:
- Speaks the spells of resurrection
- Weaves together what was scattered
- Breathes life back into what seemed dead
- Transforms grief into generative power
When Isis weeps for Osiris, her tears don’t just express sorrow—they become the flooding of the Nile. Her grief literally transforms the landscape, bringing fertility and life to the land.
This is the alchemy available to you: grief as the flooding river that makes the soil of your life fertile again.
But here’s what’s crucial: Isis can only transform what you’re ready to give her.
The rest? That’s Nephthys’s domain. And that’s not failure—it’s wisdom.
Why You Need Both Sisters
In our culture, we’re taught to “process” everything immediately. To “do the work.” To “heal” and “move on.”
I suspect that this is an effect of productivity culture and capitalism at large. Our spiritual, emotional, and mental needs are something to be managed in order for us to return to being efficient and productive members of the workforce or household.
But grief takes time to metabolize.
The Corporate Grief We Need to Talk About
Before we get to the ritual, I want to name some of the specific griefs that live in the bodies of people navigating corporate transitions. These are lived experiences that you might be carrying right now:
The Grief of Lost Promotions
You did everything right. Exceeded targets. Took on extra projects. Mentored juniors. And then they gave the role to someone less qualified, less experienced, less committed. The betrayal of meritocracy’s lie.
The Grief of Stolen Ideas
You shared your brilliant strategy in a meeting. Two weeks later, your manager presented it as their own to leadership. You got no credit. No acknowledgment. Your intellectual labor, stolen.
The Grief of Ethical Compromises
You knew the product was misleading customers. You knew the layoffs were handled cruelly. You knew the diversity initiative was performative. But you needed the job, so you stayed quiet. And now you carry the weight of complicity.
The Grief of Unpursued Opportunities
The job offer you turned down because it felt too risky. The creative project you abandoned because it wasn’t “practical.” The PhD program you deferred and then forgot about. The version of your life you chose not to live.
The Grief of Betrayed Colleagues
The work wife who ghosted you after you were laid off. The mentor who became your competition. The team that disbanded without saying goodbye. The professional relationships that revealed themselves as transactional.
The Grief of Sacrificed Self
The accent you softened. The pronouns you didn’t correct. The spiritual practices you hid. The hobbies you abandoned. The person you were before you learned to perform “professionalism.”
The Grief of Wasted Time
Five years. Ten years. Twenty years. In a job that never appreciated you. In a company that laid you off with a form email. In a career that consumed you and gave nothing back.
As you sit with these, I want to remind you that they are not small or silly. It can be hard to acknowledge the depths to which these can harm us, mentally and spiritually, becuase we so often associate true grief as loss of someone you love, or perhaps loss of a home or family dog.
But work occupies the majority of our waking hours. The treatment we receive during these hours, especially when it is repeated, compounding, and goes unrepaired, is a loss of soul.
That deserves to be witnessed and held by you. And, ultimately, transformed.
What Science Tells Us About Workplace Trauma and Grief
Before we move into the practice, I want to ground what we’re discussing in research. Because when I talk about “corporate death” and “professional grief,” I’m not being metaphorical or dramatic. This is documented, measurable trauma.
Workplace Trauma Is Real Trauma
When most people hear “workplace trauma,” they think of catastrophic events: explosions, active shooters, physical disasters. And yes, those are traumatic.
But research shows that chronic workplace stressors — things like discrimination, harassment, toxic culture — create trauma responses that are just as real and just as damaging as single catastrophic events.
A recent network analysis of workplace trauma survivors found that even in early stages of trauma exposure, folks indicate high vulnerability for developing PTSD. The most central symptoms identified were:
- Emotional numbness
- Difficulty concentrating
- Intrusive thoughts and dreams about work (this hit me hard)
- Physiological stress reactions like elevated heart rate, tension, sleep disruption
- Avoidance of thoughts related to the workplace
That means if you’ve ever found yourself having anxiety dreams about your boss, unable to focus on anything except work, felt your heart race at the sound of a Slack notification, or felt emotionally flat and disconnected from a hobby you used to enjoy… If you’ve ever found yourself:
You’re not a workaholic. You’re experiencing documented trauma symptoms.
Women in Male-Dominated Fields
A 2019 study published in the Journal of Applied Social Psychology examined 190 women working in male-dominated industries in Australia. The researchers investigated how workplace sexism impacts women’s sense of belonging, mental health, and job satisfaction.
Their findings are unsurprising to any woman who has a lived experience similar to those conditions. Basically, organizational sexism (gender-based inequality in pay, job stability, promotion opportunities) and interpersonal sexism (sexual harassment, sexist comments, exclusionary behavior) both independently predicted 1) poorer mental health, 2) lower job satisfaction, and 3) a reduced sense of belonging.
The interesting part of this study, which effectively articulates something I think many women struggle to name, is that it’s not just that the workplace sexism alone is unpleasant. It’s being consistently reminded that you don’t belong, or are unwelcome.
The Intersectional Reality: Women of Color Face Exponentially More Ceilings
Research consistently shows that women of color, particularly Black women, face compounded workplace trauma.
Studies have found that one third of women of color feel ready to leave their workplace within a year, and half of Black women consider an exit within two years.
As Jemma Roedel powerfully illustrated in her TEDx talk “How to Support Someone Experiencing Workplace Trauma,” we treat workplace trauma very differently than other forms of trauma.
If someone tells you they’ve been physically assaulted, you don’t respond by comparing it to your own minor injuries (“Well, I got a paper cut once…”), or questioning whether it really happened (“Are you sure they hit you?”), or suggesting they go back to the same place and try harder (“Maybe if you were more resilient…”).
But when someone experiences workplace trauma, especially related to discrimination, harassment, or toxic culture, we routinely minimize, question, and pressure them to return to the harmful environment.
Roedel’s analogy is perfect: We would never encourage someone to keep putting their hand in a cage with a wild animal. But we absolutely pressure people to return to workplaces that are harming them, often framing it as “resilience” or “not being a quitter.”
What Numbing Your Grief Costs You
Understanding that workplace trauma is real, measurable, documented trauma changes how we approach the grief work in this lesson. You’re experiencing a normal trauma response to abnormal, harmful conditions.
There’s a reason we call it “corporate culture.” Culture, like bacteria, needs a host to survive. And part of keeping that host alive and productive is making sure the host never fully feels what’s being done to them.
So capitalism offers you sedatives: alcohol to “decompress”, pharmaceutical drugs, endless scrolling to numb out, overconsumption as “retail therapy” or “self care”, and, of course, throwing yourself back into the grind to stay busy and not feeling.
I’m not here to shame any of these coping mechanisms. God knows I’ve used all of them. But I have come to the conclusion that when we numb this grief, when we allow ourselves to deny the possibility of a life or a system that works better than this, we also numb our power.
Anger about injustice should be fuel for creating something better. Disappointment about what you sacrificed should be information about what actually matters to you. We can’t allow ourselves to be complicit in the pacification of these powerful emotions.
Instead, I want you to tap into them – and let them flood the Nile.
The Canopic Jars for Modern Grief
In Ancient Egyptian mummification practices, the organs of the deceased were carefully removed and placed in four canopic jars. Each was protected by a different deity. These storage containers were also sacred vessels that preserved what was essential for the journey through the Underworld and eventual resurrection.
We’re going to take some inspiration from this concept and create our own canopic jars. Don’t worry, you’re not limited to 4. And instead of your organs, which keep your body going, you’re going to work with your spirit, which keeps your life force going.
You’re going to create canopic jars — held by Isis and Nephthys — for the different pieces of your grief.
Some pieces you’ll give to Isis, asking her to transform them into fertile soil for your next chapter.
Other pieces you’ll give to Nephthys, asking her to guard them safely until you’re ready to face them.
Before we begin, find a quiet space where you won’t be interrupted. You’ll need about 20-30 minutes for this exercise. Have your journal or a scrap of paper nearby – you’ll want to document what you discover.
Let’s go to the riverbank.
The Practice:
Sacred Tears at the Riverbank
This is the core ritual of this lesson. I recommend doing it when you have at least 30 minutes of uninterrupted time, ideally in the evening or early morning when the boundary between day and night (Nephthys’s threshold) is most present.
What You’ll Need:
- A journal or paper
- Something to write/draw with
- A candle (optional but recommended)
- Privacy where you can speak aloud or cry if needed
Guided Meditation:
Journey to the Riverbank
A 20-minute practice with Goddess Isis and Goddess Nephthys for transforming your professional grief into energy for your next chapter.
Integration: Documenting Your Canopic Jars
While the experience is still fresh, take time to document it. I’ve included a free PDF you can grab below, or you can write your own. Make sure it includes:
1. What You Gave to Isis for Transformation
These are the griefs/dreams/pieces you’re ready to transform and resurrect into something new NOW
Example from my own practice:
- My anger about maternity discrimination (ready to transform into speaking up and advocacy)
- My dream of entrepreneurship (that’s where The Work Witch came from)
- The grief of leaving academia (ready to alchemize into a commitment to long-form, researched content like this)
2. What You Gave to Nephthys to Guard
These are the griefs/dreams/pieces you need held safely for later.
Example from my own practice:
- The book I want to write (not ready to honor this project at this time in my life)
- The complex grief around my mother (needs more time to settle)
- Living through the collapse of American political empire from abroad (still processing my guilt and relief about this)
3. What Nephthys Drew Out as Toxins
The shame, self-blame, or rage that was released
4. What the Flood Revealed
Any insights, feelings, or clarity that emerged
What Comes Next: The Fertile Soil
The Nile flood was so much more than water. It was silt. Rich, black, fertile silt that made Egypt the breadbasket of the ancient world.
Without the flood, there was famine. With the flood, there was abundance.
Your grief works the same way. What you gave to Isis is already transforming: anger into clarity, betrayal into discernment, disappointment into wisdom.
What you gave to Nephthys is safe. When you’re ready — six months or six years from now — you can return to the riverbank and reclaim it.
There is no timeline for healing. There is only readiness.
Your Resurrection Is Already Underway
If you’ve done this practice, your resurrection has begun. You are Isis, searching for your own scattered pieces. You are the flooding Nile, transforming grief into fertile ground. You are the one who refuses to accept death as the final word.
Trust the process. Trust the timing. Trust both sisters.
Resources for Your Journey
Download: The Canopic Jars Worksheet A structured template for documenting what you gave to Isis, what you gave to Nephthys, and what emerged during your practice.
[Download worksheet]
Want to Go Deeper? This practice is the second lesson in my Scorpion Medicine series on navigating corporate death and resurrection.
If you missed the first lesson on gathering your scattered pieces with the Osiris Map, you can find it here. Next, we’ll explore the third lesson: The Reed Sanctuary.
A Note on Timing
You don’t need to complete this practice in one sitting. You can return to the riverbank as many times as you need.
The beautiful thing about visualization is that it is also unique to you. In what I’ve created for you, Isis and Nephthys will be there. The canopic jars will be there. The flooding waters will come when you call them.
But you’re welcome to invite other figures of importance. Perhaps the spirit of the owl or wolf. Perhaps an ancestor. Maybe a different deity, or even the Good People (commonly called “fae”).
If the symbolism and myths of Ancient Egypt don’t quite scratch your spiritual itch, craft something for yourself that does.
Be gentle with yourself. Grief is a complex thing, and there is no single perfect way to navigate it. Be honest about what is working for you, and be willing to get creative.
You’re learning more about yourself in the process. And that’s sacred work too.
This post is part of the Scorpion Medicine series, where we explore Ancient Egyptian wisdom for corporate death and resurrection. If you’re navigating betrayal, burnout, or major transition, this work is for you.
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