Unemployment carries a quiet but heavy mental cost. It disrupts identity, routine, and stability all at once, leaving space for financial fear, self-doubt, and long stretches of uncertainty. Each day is a mix of hope and pressure. You balance applications, benefits, and big decisions. At the same time, you manage the emotional weight of feeling untethered. It can be isolating, overwhelming, and deeply personal, even when the circumstances are far beyond your control.

It’s easy to say, “Just get a job.” But when someone’s safety, stability, or health is on the line, it’s never that simple.

I started volunteering at Health and Human Services this week. In Hennepin County, HHS supports residents facing some of the most difficult moments of their lives. And yet, there’s a common misconception that government assistance is quick, simple, or automatic. It isn’t.

To access help, people must complete extensive paperwork, answer detailed questionnaires, and—depending on the program—go through an interview. After that, they wait, often anxiously, to learn whether they’ve been approved.

Most who walk into a government office aren’t doing so casually. Something significant has happened—loss of income, health challenges, housing instability, or a crisis that pushed them to reach out. They’re carrying stress, fear, and uncertainty.

So I ask: when you think about government assistance, lead with compassion. These programs require effort, time, vulnerability, and persistence. No one should be judged for seeking stability—especially when they’re doing everything they can to rebuild it.