Mostly Fine Life

It wasn’t a surprise—I’d seen it coming for nearly three years—but when government policy changes finally made my position redundant at 53, it still unsettled daily life in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Redundancy wasn’t exactly on my calendar, yet there I was: a small gasp, a wobbly sip of tea, and a fleeting “well… that’s a thing” moment. Life delivered the news with all the ceremony of a form letter.

This wasn’t a “why me?” moment. I’d stayed on as a kind of miniature flying squad—stepping in where I could, helping out, making myself useful—and I liked that. So when the letter arrived, there was a strange mix of relief and sting: the waiting was over, and the quiet uncertainty finally had a name.

There are no hard feelings here. This wasn’t personal. It was a recalibration of government priorities, and I was far from the only one caught in the cross-hairs. That perspective helps. It allows a bit of grace. Still… timing has a sense of irony. Just before Christmas. And at the same time as a significant, devastating personal loss that I’m not quite ready to write about yet. Life does love to stack things, doesn’t it.

What redundancy really reminds you of, though, is this: we are all replaceable. The wheels keep turning. The meetings still happen. The vehicle carries on, even when you’re no longer there to steer it. And oddly enough, that same truth echoed in a much darker way with my other loss. The world keeps moving. Mornings still arrive. The sun doesn’t pause out of respect. Proud Mary keeps on burning, and the river keeps rolling whether you’re on the boat or waving from the shore.

It’s confronting. And freeing. And unsettling. All at once.

At 53, there’s also that quiet question humming away in the background: am I still the preferred candidate? Not the young kid with endless ambition and a high tolerance for nonsense. Just someone with experience, perspective, and a slightly more selective approach to what actually matters. Mostly fine… but still a little… wiggle in the stomach.

I spent thirteen years as a corporate planner. Rules mattered. Structure mattered. Accountability mattered. And they still do, when they have meaning. But one thing redundancy teaches you, especially when it’s not your first time, is that life doesn’t always care about structure. Systems shift. Priorities change. People move on.

So now it’s tea, dogs at my feet, cats on the sofa, and a mental soundtrack that is equal parts comforting and wildly inappropriate. I remind myself that I still have something to offer. That usefulness doesn’t disappear with a job title. That experience counts, even if it’s not always fashionable.

Losing a job at 53 isn’t just about work—it’s about the daily practicalities that suddenly feel precarious. So how do you keep the lights on, the fridge full, and your sanity intact? That’s exactly what I’ll share next: budgeting without the tears.”

My Current Mostly Fine Soundtrack: “Proud Mary” – Tina Turner / Creedence 🎵
Because redundancy reminds you: the river keeps rolling, and so do you.