The obligatory shopping post

This is not a shopping blog. Therefore I should not write an entire post entitled, what shall I spend my leaving-present-gift-vouchers on?

I will resist. Unless John Lewis want to sponsor me to wax lyrical about their lovely products? Hello John Lewis? No?

Goodnight then.

What happens next is up to me

Week one, day three, and I miss my colleagues (who I've spent most of my waking hours with over the last four years, many of whom are very good friends). I miss my routine (even though I was terrible at getting to work on time), and I miss my sense of purpose to the day (even though I counted down the hours till I could leave work). I also feel a bit resentful, bizarrely, that whereas daytime TV used to be a guilty pleasure, in a tee-hee-I-should-be-working sort of way, now it just makes me feel unemployed. I'm in danger of forgetting why I took that leap off the cliff and in danger of regretting it already.


In short, I wanted my life back. I wanted to get control back over what was most important to me, have time and energy to spend with friends and family, enjoy my weekends instead of being too tired and too stressed to do anything but sleep. I wanted to learn to cook, get fitter, spend more time outside, learn what birds visit my garden to eat the birdfood I dutifully put out each day before disappearing till it's dark. And I wanted to revel in the possibilities and choices now open to me, and to enjoy exploring them.

So my first action is to work on my new daily and weekly routine. Of course, job-hunting, networking etc will play a part (as, unfortunately, will fighting with HR over my missing P45 - only the start of the bureaucracy I'm up against, I'm sure). But I will also take a photo every day, take a walk once a week, finally get to a yoga class, cook the vegetables that arrive in my veg box rather than throwing them away guiltily and having frozen pizza again. I'll remember everybody's birthdays, phone my friends up north more regularly, play with my niece and nephew whenever I get the chance. I'll apply for volunteering for causes I'm passionate about. I'll learn new things about myself. I'll take every day as a gift, until the next job comes along.

And I'll renew my passport. You never know where those possibilities and choices might take me.

The scariest moment is always just before you start. – Stephen King

After 15 years of training, qualifying and working, my chosen career and I are finally going our separate ways. It had not been an easy fit for quite some time. Last Friday was my last day, after opting for voluntary redundancy. I am luckier than many, in that I chose to go, even if the circumstances which led to that decision were not of my making. Yet I find myself in a strange place right now, feeling a sense of loss, a lot of fear, a bit like a boat cast adrift and wondering which direction the shore is in.

The most poignant image of recession I've seen so far - in the window of a local shop closing down. Me and the teddy had much in common on Friday when I took this picture.

Over the last few weeks and months, I've been looking for advice and tips from others who have been through this experience before me. I can find plenty of legal advice, financial advice, careers and CV advice - but nothing so far on the emotional impact, on how redundancy affects your sense of self, nothing to prepare you for the highs and lows. (If you find any, please share with me!)  And that's what has inspired this blog. I'll refer to useful practical sources when appropriate, but really plenty of other people do that better than me. What I want to do is motivate myself (and if by doing so I can motivate others, all the better), and prove that redundancy can be an opportunity. I look forward to recording the journey here, and hopefully hearing about others' stories too.