When Numbers Have Names

I need to be honest with you. This week has felt heavy.

As news of cuts to immigration legal aid, access to justice grants, healthcare services, education and housing supports continues to pour in, I've found myself sitting with a weight I can't quite shake. These aren't abstract budget discussions anymore—they're about people I know. Colleagues whose jobs are disappearing. Community programs that have transformed lives, now facing extinction.

Each morning, I open my email to find another message from someone wondering what they'll do next. As a mediator, I'm trained to stay neutral, to see all sides. But as a human being? I'm struggling with the disconnect between budget spreadsheets and the lives they represent.

I know I'm not alone in these feelings. Many of us are watching valued services dissolve while carrying the weight of knowing exactly who will bear the consequences.

When Budget Lines Have Faces

The Impact Project, Mapping Community Impact:  https://theimpactproject.org/

Every day, the map tracking service impacts grows. Behind each data point is someone's story—the immigration attorney who's helped families for 20 years, now clearing out her office. The community health worker who called me in tears, wondering how her patients will access care now. The housing advocate who can't sleep knowing how many families relied on his program. The directors of life-giving community services that have transformed neighborhoods, now forced to tell their staff and clients there's nothing more they can do.

These are people who sit at our dining table. People whose children play with ours. Real humans with mortgages and hopes and expertise built over decades that can't simply be switched off and on like a light.

I find myself wondering: How did we get to a place where we discuss human services with the same clinical detachment we might use to discuss quarterly earnings reports? Not helping people is not a solution—and I know it's not who I want to be.

When Life-Sustaining Work Disappears

When funding for essential services vanishes, we're not just talking about budget lines—we're talking about feeding our families, paying our bills, education accountability, accessing healthcare, and having legal representation when we need it most. These aren't luxuries; they're foundations of a dignified life.

The deep loss of job security is particularly devastating. People who dedicated years to building expertise in serving others suddenly find themselves starting over, often in their 40s, 50s, or 60s. Behind each program cut is someone who thought they had a secure path forward and now faces profound uncertainty about their future.

These disruptions create predictable patterns that I've witnessed in communities and organizations:

1. Zero-sum thinking increases: When resources appear limited, we begin viewing the situation as a fixed pie—if you get more, I necessarily get less. This mindset transforms colleagues into competitors. I've watched healthcare teams who once collaborated seamlessly begin hoarding supplies when budgets tightened. In families facing financial strain, siblings who previously shared generously start keeping careful tallies. This shift happens almost imperceptibly, but its impact on relationships is profound.

2. Tribal mentalities strengthen: As pressure mounts, we instinctively seek safety in our "tribes"—those who share our identities, perspectives, or interests. Recently, I facilitated a community meeting where housing advocates and education supporters, who had previously worked together effectively, became entrenched in arguing why their cause deserved priority funding. The cross-sector collaboration that had produced creative solutions in the past dissolved into protective siloing.

3. Emotional intensity escalates: Our brains process resource threats similarly to physical threats. The resulting fear, anxiety, and anger trigger our fight-flight-freeze responses, bypassing our more reflective thinking. I've sat with nonprofit leaders who, facing funding cuts, found themselves uncharacteristically tearful or combative in meetings they would normally navigate with composure. These emotional responses aren't weakness—they're natural human reactions to perceived threats to our security and identity.

4. Long-term thinking diminishes: Crisis narrows our focus to immediate survival. When a community health program faced elimination, its leadership team—previously known for strategic planning—became consumed with week-to-week continuity. The innovative approaches that might have created sustainable alternatives remained unexplored because everyone was too busy managing the emergency at hand.

Understanding these patterns doesn't eliminate them, but it does give us a chance to recognize and counteract them before they derail our ability to respond effectively to challenging circumstances.

Beyond Townhalls: The Power of Facilitated Dialogues

In times of community distress, the instinct is often to hold townhalls—those large public forums where officials present decisions and community members line up at microphones to respond. While well-intentioned, these events frequently devolve into performative exercises where:

• The loudest voices dominate

• People speak but aren't truly heard

• Positions harden rather than evolve

• The format reinforces power imbalances

• Few leave feeling their concerns were addressed

There's a more effective alternative: structured, facilitated dialogues that transform how communities navigate difficult transitions.

Unlike traditional townhalls, facilitated dialogues:

1. Create equitable speaking opportunities: Using methods like circle processes ensures everyone has equal time to speak and be heard.

2. Focus on understanding before problem-solving: Participants are encouraged to listen for understanding rather than preparing rebuttals.

3. Identify shared values beneath opposing positions: Skilled facilitators help surface the common ground that exists beneath surface disagreements.

4. Build relationship capacity alongside addressing issues: The process strengthens community bonds, creating resilience beyond the immediate crisis.

5. Generate collective wisdom rather than win/lose outcomes: Solutions emerge from the group rather than being imposed from above.

I've witnessed transformative moments in facilitated dialogues that would never have occurred in traditional townhalls—moments where adversaries recognized each other's humanity, where creative solutions emerged from unexpected voices, where the collective wisdom of a community proved far greater than any expert's knowledge.

Navigating Service Loss: Practical Steps Forward

If you're facing service cuts or job loss, here are approaches that acknowledge both the emotional and practical challenges:

1. Prioritize immediate needs first: Before tackling systemic issues, ensure your basic needs are addressed. Contact community organizations that might offer bridge support for housing, food, healthcare, or financial guidance.

2. Connect with others in similar situations: There's both comfort and practical wisdom in community. Online forums, in-person support groups, or even informal gatherings can provide emotional support and share valuable information about alternative resources.

3. Look for unconventional solutions: When traditional services disappear, creative alternatives often emerge. Faith communities, mutual aid networks, skill exchanges, and cooperative arrangements can sometimes fill gaps in unexpected ways.

4. Advocate effectively when necessary: When you need to request exceptions or appeal decisions, be concise and specific. Explain your situation, what you need, and why it matters, without assuming the person you're speaking with understands the full impact of these cuts.

5. Preserve your energy: You don't have to fight every battle. Choose carefully where to invest your limited emotional and physical resources during this challenging time.

   
   

For Those in Decision-Making Positions

If you're in a position making difficult resource allocation decisions, here are some things to consider:

1. Create transparent processes: Clearly communicate how and why decisions are being made.

2. Implement graduated changes: When possible, phase in adjustments rather than making abrupt cuts.

3. Acknowledge the human impact: Don't hide behind bureaucratic language—recognize and validate the real effects on people's lives.

4. Provide forums for affected voices: Create structured opportunities for those impacted to be heard and to contribute to solution-finding.

   
   

Supporting Those Who are Directly Impacted

For those who've lost positions in these essential services, the journey ahead is daunting. Here are some practical approaches that can help:

1. Allow yourself to grieve: The loss of meaningful work is a genuine loss that deserves to be acknowledged and mourned.

2. Inventory your transferable skills: Your expertise in serving others translates to many settings—identify specific skills you've developed that have value in multiple contexts.

3. Reach out to your network before you need them: Let people know what's happening before you're in crisis mode. Most colleagues want to help but won't know how unless you tell them.

4. Find peers in similar situations: There's unique support in connecting with others who understand exactly what you're experiencing.

   
   

For those of us who want to support colleagues facing job loss:

1. Listen without problem-solving: Sometimes the most valuable thing you can offer is simply bearing witness to someone's experience.

2. Make concrete offers: "Let me know if you need anything" puts the burden on the person in crisis. Instead, try "I'm free Tuesday afternoon to help update your resume" or "I'm having coffee with someone in your field next week—would you like to join us?"

3. Check in regularly: Many people rally initially but disappear after a few weeks. Consistent support over time matters enormously.

4. Share opportunities without pressure: Forward relevant job postings or introductions, but respect that the person needs to move at their own pace.

   
   

Finding Our Way Forward Together

Last night, I sat with a group of colleagues facing these cuts. We moved from anger to grief to a quiet determination.  Together, we can find a way forward.

As a mediator who has worked with families in their darkest moments, I've witnessed how human connection can generate light even in seemingly hopeless situations. While I don't have perfect answers, I do have faith in what happens when we:

1. Make space for both emotion and action: Today, I cried with a friend whose program was cut. Now we’re planning a community dialogue. Both moments matter.

2. Resist the urge to dehumanize those with different perspectives: Even when I profoundly disagree with decisions being made, I know that demonizing others only hardens the divisions.  We need to decide what we’re “for”.  When we lead with what we’re “anti”, many people cannot meet us.  We’re invalidating their beliefs.  A main tenet of conflict management also applies here; we don’t need to decide who is right or wrong, we need a better way forward.  Blame is not a solution.

3. Look for the helpers—and become one: In every community facing these challenges, there are people finding creative ways forward. Join them.  When I lived in Nashville, I loved working at the foodbank.  It was assembly line work that felt like I was building something with every box.  The process and the outcome were both rewarding.  Now that I’m in St. Louis, I have volunteered as a tutor and to teach conflict management skills in a city school.  For me, our children are our future.   Choose what matters to you.

4. Remember that most conflicts have more than two sides: When we break out of binary thinking, we discover options that weren't visible before.  These are complex times with complex problems.  Our brains are wired to make things simple.  I think it will be helpful to let go of trying to make this simple.  In conflict management, we list the problems to solve.  Sometimes we start with solving the easiest.  Maybe we start with what we can do and let that build momentum and direction.

5. Be kind: Oh my goodness!  Do we need this?!  All of us.  Every one of us is going through a lot right now.  Emotions and reactions are contagious.  It doesn’t matter who you voted for, it matters who you are and how you show up for others.  Don’t forget to be kind to yourself.

   
   

I don't pretend to have neat solutions to systemic challenges. But I do know this: when we approach these losses with the tools of connection rather than isolation, when we hold space for both outrage and hope, we access a resilience that transcends budget cycles.

I write this with gratitude for all of the people whose work has transformed our communities, whose dedication has changed lives, and whose commitment continues even when the path forward seems uncertain. You have shown us what it means to choose purpose over security, service over convenience, and hope over despair.Your work matters. Your voices matter. And as we navigate these challenging times together, may we honor your contributions by ensuring that the people behind the numbers are never forgotten or dismissed.Thank you for reminding us all that true community is measured not by budgets, but by how we show up for one another when it matters most. The weight I'm carrying hasn't disappeared as I write this. But I'm reminded that I don't carry it alone. And neither do you.

What are you witnessing in your community? How are you navigating these troubled waters? I'd welcome your stories in the comments, not just as a mediator but as a fellow human trying to find my way through.