I imagine that one of the most jarring things about getting laid-off is that you no longer get up in the morning for the same reasons. Your "job" becomes looking for a job, with all of the rejection and judgment that seems to come with it. I'm sure that none of that is particularly good for your mental health.
Still, it's not unreasonable that we derive some amount of our identity from what we do. That makes sense, since we spend 40 of our waking hours doing the thing. There are at least two variables that I can think of that influence the level to which we identify with our work. The first is tenure, or how long we've worked at a particular place. That's certainly what I struggle with right now, because four years is a long time to spend with folks (why four years is "long" in tech deserves its own discussion). The other thing is the outcomes that we associate with the work. For makers, especially artists, this can totally throw the identity balance out of whack. If you're an actor, stage manager, musician, you're involved in things that deeply affect others.
Take all of that away, and suddenly you may find yourself lost during the day. That's OK. The outcomes may be thrilling, depending on what your line of work is, but really it's the people that make it special. As they say, when you're on deathbed, it won't be the work or the money that you remember, it'll be the people. To that end, especially if you're part of a large RIF, you have instant community. That's a good place to spend your time.
Something my therapists asks is, "If you could be doing anything right now, what would it be?" The truth is I don't know, and that's scary. My best shot is to continue doing the kind of work I did, as an engineering leader, but could I (or should I) be doing something else? Don't afraid to be bored, because it might lead you to new places.
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