When the Ground Shifts

...losing my job unmade me - but it also uncovered who I really am

To anyone else feeling like the rug’s been pulled out from under them:

What if the ground underneath you is more fertile than you ever imagined?

I haven’t posted in a while, whatever "a while" means in the age of constant updates.

Part of that was intentional. Part of it was because I didn’t know what to say. The truth is, I was made redundant. One day I had a role, a routine, a direction and the next, I didn’t. It’s a strange thing, losing something that was never entirely yours, yet shaped so much of who you believed you were.

At first, I went numb. Then came the questions: What now? What next? What does this say about me? There’s a deep discomfort that follows when the world no longer reflects back the image you’d worked hard to maintain. But then something else happened. The sun came out in London.

That shift in weather felt symbolic. Life had changed and instead of spiralling, I stopped. I took a breath. I looked around. I realised I had a choice. I could see this moment as a loss, or I could view it as a turning point. I chose the latter, not out of blind optimism, but because deep down, I believe it was meant to happen.

Redundancy stripped away the noise. It forced me to sit with myself, to confront how much of my identity had been wrapped up in productivity and performance. We often ask people what they do, not who they are. And I was no different. I measured myself by outputs, goals, results. But when all of that was taken away, I was left with a more honest version of myself, one that was uncertain, yes, but also more awake.

We live in a culture that equates stillness with failure. If you're not climbing, building, posting, or promoting, you're invisible. But I'm learning that not every moment is meant to be filled. Not every season is meant to be productive. Some moments are simply meant to be lived, observed and felt.

Being made redundant isn’t just about job loss, it’s about identity loss. And what comes after is uncomfortable, but also full of possibility. There is clarity in the quiet. There is healing in the pause.

I don’t have a five-step plan or a neat narrative tied up with a bow. I’m in the middle of it.

But I wanted to share this because I know I’m not alone.

If you're going through a shift, a loss, a break in the rhythm - maybe you're not breaking down. Maybe you're breaking open.

And maybe that’s where the real work begins.

- B