On Being Made Redundant, But Not Feeling Redundant
How losing your job against a pandemic backdrop alters your sense of self, and how to challenge it …
“Redundant. A word which we’ve almost grown completely desensitised to over the last few months, but one which is still loaded with negativity. Perhaps better than any other, it’s an adjective which encapsulates a sense of being surplus to requirements, of being unceremoniously catapulted onto a metaphorical scrap heap only a matter of months after being gainfully employed, after putting in serious hours and probably after getting a little bit too incensed at someone not replenishing the milk in the office fridge.
Being made redundant is, without question, something which has been the defining experience of 2020 for me. Like so many people I know, both through work and as pals, since the spring I’ve spent most of my waking (and a fair proportion of my sleeping) hours worrying about my job security. Then- in the blink of an eye- finding myself in the midst of redundancy consultations. The consultation process in and of itself is a horrible one too; something which turns you inside out with the sheer stress and anxiety of it all, and very often results in the same, almost inevitable outcome as you would have faced without it happening.
“A mantra which has permeated my consciousness almost as much as hands, face, space. I am not my job. My job is redundant. I am not my job. ”
Like so many others, the industry which I work in (or should that be worked in?) has been left balancing on a very precarious precipice as a result of the pandemic. Along with so many of the workforce, I was furloughed back in April- a novelty which wore very thin very quickly. I’ve worked consistently since I was a student in one shape or another, so to be suddenly left floating about in limbo waiting for answers when nobody had them was disconcerting experience to say the least. There’s a lot about the ways and means of my own personal experience of redundancy which have been difficult to get to grips with, leaving me wrestling with a sense of extreme sadness and betrayal. Over the last few months I’ve become more jaded and disheartened by the whole situation, and it’s undoubtedly had a detrimental impact on my sense of self too. In a world which constantly asks you what you do before it wants to know who you are, how do you respond when you’ve *literally* got nothing to say?
Seeing and hearing this situation being repeated a million-fold across the country (and indeed the world) against the backdrop of the pandemic is even more overwhelming. The simple act of turning on the telly for a bit of escapism has become a special minefield of its own- navigating the news channels and their reports of mass redundancies across all sectors just reinforces the sheer scale of the situation, and serves to remind you in turn of your own experience and all of the uncertainty it brings. And that’s without even touching the tip of the very messy ‘unviable’ iceberg and retraining in cyber… (whatever that might mean anyway.)
As well as the stress and emotional upheaval which redundancy brings with it, I’ve also been enormously surprised at the physical toll which the events of the last few months have taken on me- from crushing migraines, to extreme tiredness and even the sheer, unbridled glamour of being sick in a bush on a sunny September day out- these are responses which no amount of talking it out or Googling can prepare you for. For me, it’s also been a strangely numbing experience- I remember at the very beginning of the process going into a massive spiral of denial about what was happening and convincing myself that things would sort themselves out one way or another (spoiler alert: they didn’t!)
“It is, in a bizarre way, like some odd form of grieving, which I suppose is only natural given that work takes up so much time, energy and headspace in a non-Covid world.”
Amidst all of this uncertainty, upheaval (and indeed upchucking), the one thing which I’ve had to keep reminding myself of is the fact that although I have been made redundant, that doesn’t mean that I’m redundant as a person. I’ve had to proactively make myself take a step back from the narrative of toxic negativity surrounding losing a job which I (on the whole!) really liked and replace it with something much kinder to myself- a mantra which has permeated my consciousness almost as much as hands, face, space. I am not my job. My job is redundant. I am not my job.
Although there’s no question that my confidence has taken a total knock of late and that building it back up will take some time, I’m so relieved that I haven’t had to go through this experience on my own. Friends who have been riding the same redundancy rollercoaster have been worth their weight in gold, and if this process has taught me anything it’s who I can really rely on when the going gets tough- a life lesson which is well worth the learning, even if it is during the strangest of times.
As with more or less everything at the moment, the way I feel about this situation changes on an almost minute-by-minute basis, but allowing myself to have the time and space to come to terms with it all without blaming myself has been essential. It is, in a bizarre way, like some odd form of grieving, which I suppose is only natural given that work takes up so much time, energy and headspace in a non-Covid world. There’s comfort in talking too, and I’d encourage anyone else going through the same process not to bottle things up, and not to feel like they have to carry the weight of their situation alone. Support and solidarity have been a real balm to me over the last few months- and something as simple as reframing the way you think about the term ‘redundant’ can be a massive help too. Really and truly, it’s not you- it’s them.”
-
To read more from Sarah you can find her on Instagram at @sarah_sentiment or via her gorgeous website www.mysentimentalheart.com.