I was made redundant four times in a row. I’ve coped by finding ways to surprise myself

After being approached for ‘a quick chat’ at four different companies, I started to feel cursed. However, for those in the same boat, not all hope is lost. Even if it feels like it

“Your role may be impacted.” That’s how they put it.

It’s corporate language, crafted by lawyers, to absolve and protect your soon-to-be former employer.

It’s nothing personal, they say. It’s “your role” that “may be impacted”. It’s because of the business downturn. Or an organisational restructure. Or a new CEO who assured all employees that no redundancies were coming but whoops, he just had a look at the books and he made that teeth-sucking sound and all of a sudden it looks like we’re going to have to get rid of dozens of you.

But that thing about his teeth is just an assumption. You’ve never actually met the man. A person you’ve never met has suddenly altered the course of your life because of money. Something he’ll continue to make a lot of, while you’ll now make none.

People who you’ve spent eight hours a day with every day now regard you as though you’re suffering from a terminal illness. They don’t know what to say. Some will decide it’s too awkward to say anything to you, ever again.

On top of this, you have to be professional and finish your remaining days with the same level of energy and dedication you’ve always had, so you can get a decent reference. You can’t be upset or angry or have a breakdown. Just focus on telling the family, talk to the bank about your mortgage payments and try not to crumble.

I know all this because it has happened to me. Four times. In six years.

I work in digital marketing, which is a fancy way of saying I write words on the internet to sell things. Accounting software, health insurance, travel destinations, that sort of thing. Sometimes, I change what other people have written. Other times I redesign the words and images to look better. It was work I often believed in. Giving small businesses hope in the face of uncertain economies and allowing families the space not to stress about hospital bills when a loved one had died. Somewhere in there, those words meant something.

My situation may be at the extreme end of a very depressing spectrum but I know I’m not alone. Layoffs made by executives have become all too common in 2025. Major corporations such as Microsoft, Qantas and any number of universities are handing down redundancies by the thousands. Despite assurances of future security and apologies made by CEOs and vice-chancellors after the fact, the damage has already been done.

Your life and work may differ from mine but this modern process so many of us have shared creates a grim connection. A shared dread of emails about unscheduled one-on-one meetings. Whether or not we should raise a valid point about workload balance in that staff meeting versus staying silent. We begin to fear redundancy so often that instead of feeling relief at starting a new job, our brain is already silently predicting who in this new workplace will pull us aside a year from now.

After a layoff, suddenly the work you were doing seems utterly pointless. As does all the heart you’ve put into it. The first time it happens, you’re a wreck. By the fourth time, you go numb and feel nothing. Because if you allow yourself to feel this sort of thing, this many times, you’ll never come back from it.

You’ll still feel the guilt of not working though – that keeps growing. After your last day has passed, even a small break from searching for a new job, talking to employment agencies or sitting on the phone to Centrelink can set off a shame spiral. Reading a book? Scrolling Instagram? Rewatching Gilmore Girls again? Rory and Lorelai wouldn’t procrastinate like this. Well, OK, maybe Lorelai would.

So how did I learn to stay afloat? To not just let this turbulent system we all accept as normal drag me under?

Somewhere in between applying for hundreds of jobs and being ghosted after interviews, I’ve put my own systems in place, to remind myself I’m a human, not a series of nervous motor functions trained to earn money.

For example, plenty of things break in my house. Plumbing, cracks in timber and most recently, dozens of ugly bathroom tiles that needed replacing.

After a while, I realised I’m pretty good at fixing these things. I gathered some old tools together and now they permanently live in a bag ready for the next job and with them, a small sense of pride. No tradies were involved, I did these things myself. Not for a side hustle, not for somebody else’s bank account – just for me. Home improvement quietly proved I still have worth. I surprised myself.

But this isn’t exclusively about discovering DIY. Everyone is different, and that feeling of surprise can come from anywhere. Sport, gardening, meditation or whatever you’ve forced into the background while you’ve sweated over perfecting your LinkedIn profile.

Carving out dedicated time for these personal discoveries is as important as looking for a new job, and more important than all the time you spend feeling awful about not having one. Searching for that surprise helps loosen the knots in your stomach. It becomes a raft of certainty in an ocean of doubt.

Planting cherry tomatoes or playing board games may not contribute to GDP, but those tomatoes will love you back and that game will make your friendships last a bit longer. The job you just lost wasn’t designed for either of those things.

Holding on to the satisfaction and reliability of these extremely personal preferences is essential when your career spirals out of control. It’s the best way to tell yourself that your role in life won’t be affected.