At nearly 50 I was made redundant from my job of 20 years. It utterly destroyed me, says POLLY HUDSON. Now I’m happier than ever, financially sorted – here’s the essential guide of what to do if it happens to you

When I was made redundant, I felt like I’d been shot. The verbal bullet hit me right in the career, but ricocheted out to wound my confidence, my relationships and my mental health.

Worst of all, I was aware from my many similarly aged friends who’d gone through the same ordeal that whether this attack proved fatal or not was now largely up to me.

The rate of redundancies has almost doubled in the past three years according to the Office For National Statistics, from 55,000 people a month to 114,000 – and the worst impacted group are the middle-aged and older. 

Of the million-plus employees culled by their companies, 34 per cent were aged 35-49 and 30 per cent were 50-plus. Sarah*, a 48-year-old friend who worked for a luxury goods company, found herself surplus to requirements two years ago.

‘I never thought I defined myself by my job, but once it was gone, I felt like I didn’t know who I was any more,’ she confesses. ‘It brought on a kind of existential crisis.’

I’d been consoling and advising Sarah. Little did I know, I would be needing to take my own advice less than a year later. 

Last November, a phone call from my employer of nearly two decades caused what I have now discovered is known as a ‘lifequake’. All my security and certainty exploded in an instant, leaving me shaken and terrified. 

The job I loved was over, because of essential budget cuts, it was nothing personal of course. I was extremely frightened financially, and the rejection I experienced on top of that was brutal. I believed my employer valued me, that I was an asset, and no matter how carefully they worded it, making me redundant proved definitively this was not the case. 

This blow to my ego was intensified by my fast approaching 50th. An age when you’re meant to be sorted career-wise, well-established, respected for your experience, stable and settled. I was the polar opposite – lost, suddenly nowhere, with nothing. It felt genuinely like a death, a gut-wrenching blow turning my world upside down.

Some days it felt like I was the one who had died. It chills me now to admit it but at my lowest, I almost wished I had.

My nearest and dearest, my colleagues – gulp, ex-colleagues – who called to commiserate, told me I was going to be fine. It was well intentioned but I didn’t believe them for a second.

A friend, Katie*, had also been through redundancy. She’d been a high street bank branch manager for more than a decade when she was dispensed with, aged 47.

‘I allowed myself a full week to wallow because you need to recover both physically and emotionally,’ she recalls. ‘The first few days you’re in shock and then it begins to sink in, and that’s when you really need to go easy on yourself.’

I went into shock at first, was almost cheerful when breaking the news to the first few people I told, laughing at the absurdity of it.

When reality hit, a few days later, I was so anxious I could barely breathe. I started taking beta blockers to stave off a panic attack. I couldn’t eat or sleep, I shrank into myself and barely spoke. 

I was a shell of the person I’d been before, the woman with a career, a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.

My husband was supportive, but he found it difficult to see me at such a low ebb without being able to solve the situation. He was so worried he began checking up on me much more often than normal, becoming concerned if I took too long to reply to a message.

I was touched, then irritated, then scared by him being like this. Did he really think I was so down that I was a danger to myself? And if so, was he right? I didn’t know who I was any more.

Also, the old adage is true – you really do find out who your friends are when the proverbial hits the fan. I was surprised by the care and support of people I hadn’t expected it from, and by the hurtful silence of those I’d assumed would be there for me.

What I’ve learned from bitter personal experience, is to be kind to yourself in the initial aftermath, as nauseating as that sounds. Even if that is uncharacteristic for you – hell, especially if it is. 

This is because you’ve had a huge shock, and you need a minute, but also because it switches your mindset, from being a useless, worthless redundancee, to someone who deserves to be looked after.

Then, when you’re ready, remind yourself that just because being made redundant can feel like a death, it doesn’t mean your career is RIP. 

The definition of a ‘lifequake’, a term coined by US writer Bruce Feiler, is ‘a significant and unexpected shift in the trajectory of your life that initially feels devastating but has the beneficial outcome of catalysing personal growth, transformation and rebirth’.

You can take the ‘woo-woo’ route, and believe the universe has a plan for you, or be more pragmatic and accept you will have to make something new happen; but either way, you could well end up in a better, happier position than before.

I know I have. I’d never in a million years have been brave enough to leave my job and a regular salary – now I almost feel they did me a favour.

It’s a tall order, but despite how you feel inside in those first dark days, you need to be your own cheerleader. Humbling though it is to have to start from scratch, keep in mind that you’re building a new, improved future for yourself.

Apply, apply, apply. Contact anyone and everyone who may be able to employ you, or know someone who knows someone who knows someone who could.

Crucially, bear in mind this isn’t as urgent to them as it is to you, and they may take a while to reply. You are forbidden from reading into that. You might also have to chase them, because once you slip down their inbox, you slip out of their mind. 

This is not personal and has no sinister meaning. An unexpected perk was, it restored my faith in human nature – everyone I approached was unbelievably nice and helpful, even if they didn’t have work for me. 

And finally, cheesy as this sounds, aim for the moon. There were places I had always dreamt of working for but never had the guts to try, instead keeping my head below the parapet in my old, familiar position. Fear is an excellent motivator. Today I’m proud and excited by the work I’m doing, and I feel more creatively alive than I have in years.

Financially I’m pretty much back where I was – although when you’re freelance, you never know what next month will bring, so I typed that with crossed fingers. 

I’ve also looked at my spending habits and realised I didn’t need most of the items I thoughtlessly splashed out on (spoiler: no night cream is truly a miracle!) 

And I’m saving money on commuting, Pret lunches and afternoon pick-me-ups, office-acceptable outfits and spontaneous evening drinks with colleagues.

When I was first made redundant, on a day I was utterly despairing, someone told me everything happens for a reason, and I had to restrain myself from punching them in the face. 

While I would never diminish the impact of being made redundant, and how challenging the climb back up the mountain can be, maybe there’s something in that old cliché after all.

Names and identifying details have been changed.