Lessons learned since taking redundancy

Just over three years ago, I found myself in a terrible place. The company I worked for was in serious difficulty, my industry in turmoil, and I was offered an opportunity which seemed like a poisoned chalice at the time. Voluntary redundancy? After more than 22 years in the newspaper industry, I was so fearful of change, even if there had always been a wanderlust and a desire to explore new horizons running through my adult life.                                                 

On my last day at work in the Connacht Tribune.

I had even taken a gap year in 2010 which opened me up to a whole new world. Diving in tropical waters off the coast of south-west Thailand or helping out at an educational project in Nicaragua provided wonderful experiences and rich spiritual rewards, but hardly offered the security and material comfort most human beings crave.

Our own history of famine, eviction, and emigration has given Irish people an understandable sense of anxiety about the need to forge out comfortable lifestyles – there are surely deep-rooted reasons for our obsession with the property market – and I found myself paralysed with fear as I stood at a crossroads in my life.

Three years ago, I wanted to run off and fight for social justice in a far-off corner of Central America. And yet I was gripped by a fear of leaving my family and friends behind. It’s amazing how scary freedom can be when it’s offered to you on a plate, as though life is somehow easier if you are chained to a 9 to 5 job and an all-too-familiar routine.

Three years on, I don’t claim to have all the answers or to have somehow, miraculously, found the meaning of life. And yet it has been a time of deep personal awakening which has forced me to re-evaluate what’s important in life.

Two weeks ago, I stood in Dublin at the Irish Blog of the Year awards and realised I had come so far without having a need to travel the world. I may not be making a fortune, but I feel I have learned so much.

Because too many of us can stay in unhappy or unrewarding situations for years or even decades, understandably so when there are mortgages to pay or children to feed, but it’s really sad when we let our lives by governed by a fear of change.

So here, for what it’s worth, are seven lessons learned since I took voluntary redundancy. Sometimes we don’t measure our lives for what they are really worth and winning second prize at the V by Very Irish Blog Awards is not really an important milestone in itself. But the award got me to ponder on what I’ve grasped since October 2014.

My V by Very blog award (Current Affairs)

Dignity is so important: Often we, as human beings, can be harder on ourselves than anyone else could possibly imagine. My first visit to a Social Welfare office after more than 22 years of working was a huge blow to the ego. As I sat in a lengthy queue, waiting for my number to come up, I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I was judging myself a failure for every second of every day, when I suddenly found myself out of work. I learned a lot during that seven months, the pain of unemployment compounded by a ‘superbug’ I picked up in the local hospital.

It was amazing to see some members of staff treat people as less than human beings. After waiting maybe two hours to see someone, perhaps to report that I’d managed to get a couple of days’ freelance work, it was demoralising to be faced with a scornful civil servant who seemed to look down on everyone they met on the other side of the barrier.

There are no votes in complaining about the length of queues at dole offices, but it would be nice to think people might realise that there are real human beings behind the statistics. I met some lovely people sitting in those endless queues and was struck by how infrequently we hear their stories on the national airwaves.  And, of course, dignity works both ways. It’s important to remember that the person on the other side of the window is a human being, too, even if some of them play the part of faceless bureaucrats far too well at times.

Friends and family are important: It’s a cliché, of course, but if you have a really busy life, as I had in the newspaper business, it can be very easy to take things – and especially people – for granted. In my wanderlust, in my desire for sunnier climes, I never really paid enough attention to the good things I already had in my life. The Irish story is very much one of heartbreak and emigration, but there are very good reasons for staying in your home town, village or city. Plus, teaching foreigners English on a part-time basis has given me a whole new appreciation for my city, when I view it through their eyes.

The people you grew up with are the people who will help you out most in your time of need, even if of course it can be great to take off on new adventures and meet a whole new circle of friends. I remember one call out of the blue, on a wet and windy January night, which really lifted my spirits at a time when I was really feeling blue and so uncertain about what was coming next in my life. That call was from somebody I have known all of my life.

So many people are struggling ... how often do we just walk by?

Learn to accept: I have a friend, a yoga teacher, who has a sign inside his isolated rural cottage which proclaims “Relax: nothing is under control”. So many of us cause ourselves so much suffering by trying to control the people or events which occur in our lives. When a former work-mate let me down recently, I took his stab in the back too much to heart. When I didn’t get a particular job, I might mull on it for weeks. Acceptance is key to a happy life. We sometimes forget that we are all going to die and that we should just make the most of our time on this planet, rather than getting caught up in ego-driven disputes and dramas. It’s not what happens to us, but how we deal with events, that counts.

Don’t isolate yourself: Hours spent on Facebook are no substitute for a cup of tea and a chat shared with a good friend. The sudden blow of finding myself out of work was reduced when I would arrange to meet a friend to catch a movie or a football game. I soon realised that friends were going through, or had gone through, similar experiences to me, but perhaps I had not paid enough attention to them because I had such a busy life. A chat in the sauna in my local gym, at the end of a fruitless day job-hunting, might have meant an awful lot more to me than the person I was talking to realised.               

"Life is so much wiser and kinder than
your mind imagines" - Mooji

So many people are struggling: When you take a huge cut in income, when you get out and have really meaningful conversations with people, you soon realise that so many people are struggling to make ends meet. You take a bus instead of a taxi and you find yourself deep in conversation with a person on the margins. You take a ‘zero hours’ contract job and marvel at the people bringing up families on tiny incomes.

You stop and chat to the homeless person on Shop Street and realise he is a real human being who has experienced real suffering and, there but for the grace of God, you could be in his exact situation if you had been thrown the same roll of the dice. I haven’t had a drink for almost a year and my city looks an awful lot different late at night when viewed through sober eyes.

Look after your mental health: Do whatever it takes to relax, treat yourself, and overcome those fearful, negative thoughts. For me, a meditation group gave real solace in the midst of a personal crisis. A weekly yoga class allows me to switch off, forget my problems, and perhaps have a giggle with some people I hardly know.

A swim in the pool or a walk on the Salthill promenade on a winter’s night is far better than lying on the couch, obsessing over what might have been or the uncertainty of what will come next in this crazy adventure called life. If you look after your body and your mind, the problems which seemed insurmountable a week or a month ago suddenly pale into insignificance and perhaps you can even learn to wake up with a smile on your face and to appreciate all the good things in your life.

‘Career’ is not everything: It takes courage, or perhaps madness, to say goodbye to a job or a career you have had for more than two decades. Even if that career is in terminal decline. But the happiest people I have met don’t drive BMWs, golf in the best clubs, or wear a shirt and tie to work. They may be teaching refugees English, helping out in a Direct Provision centre, or running educational projects in some of the poorest places on earth.

A great quote I disovered in the wilds
of Connemara last year

Some of us spend so much energy trying to get to the top of our chosen fields, we never stop to take stock, to see if that is what really makes us tick or happy with life. My city has a reputation as the “graveyard of ambition”, but that could be a good thing, too. Life is about so much more than promotions, bank balances, or getting one over your colleagues in a mad dash to the top.

Some of the happiest people I’ve met are surviving on $2 a day in the poorest neighbourhoods of Nicaragua and it’s easy to forget that if you spend your life judging yourself, or comparing yourself to the people around you.

Life never was meant to be a competition or a race, but it’s easy to forget that when we get caught up in the “politics” of a particular career. It must be awful to spend your life rushing to get to the top of the ladder, only to realise you never wanted to climb that particular ladder in the first place!





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All about the attitude

Meditating and doing mindfulness courses over the past half a decade have taught me one very important lesson in life . . . it’s not what happens to you that counts, it’s how you react to the highs and lows which come your way.

It’s safe to say that my life has not gone to plan since I took voluntary redundancy late last year. A job I was offered did not materialise, leading to a bit of a panic almost as soon as I left the newspaper, and my hopes of qualifying as an English teacher were dashed when I ended up in hospital for four days.

I thought I was in dreamland at one stage, about to work for a cause I deeply believed in straight after leaving my job of 22 years. Then I thought I would finally do a course which would allow me to teach anywhere in the world or improve my skills if I was to return to volunteering in Central America.

My shoulder injury put paid to those plans. 

Walking along the Salthill promenade

As a person who always runs away for winter sun, the past few months have been challenging.

If you asked me a year ago what my worst nightmare would be, I’d say it would be to be sick, unemployed, and stuck at home in the middle of winter in Galway.

Yet moving to the other side of the world is no guarantee of happiness and old friends have inspired me through some of the most challenging months of my life.

Since the end of October I have had surgery three times on my troublesome left shoulder and spent almost every day getting my wound dressed by a team of Public Health Nurses.

The nurses have been superb, but I can’t say the same for the public health system. I picked up a couple of infections, the MRSA bug and klebsiella, which not only stalled the healing process but posed a serious threat to my health if they got into my bloodstream.

It was frustrating to be rushed to the Emergency Department (ED) at UHG to have a leaking wound drained, when I was supposed to be on the mend. And then to find six days later that my specialist had no knowledge of the fact that I had surgery on the shoulder for a third time – in the same hospital.

It was even more frustrating to see old people lying on trolleys, sometimes being given devastating diagnosis within earshot of a dozen people, when I spent 26 hours in the ED.

That experience awoke the rebel in me. In my mind, I raged against the injustice of a country which pays off unsecured bondholders while forcing ordinary people to spend night after night on a hospital trolley.

If a nation’s health is reflected in how it treats its most vulnerable citizens, then Ireland is a pretty sick country right now.

I have gone through, I think, seven courses of antibiotics, including a powerful pill which is the “antibiotic of last resort” for the MRSA bug. Just over a week ago, with no sign of the infection disappearing, I thought I would be re-admitted to hospital and put on a drip. 

It seemed there was no end in sight to a problem which surfaced when an abscess on my shoulder became swollen way back at the end of October.

The whole experience has shown me the importance of taking one day at a time. There is absolutely no point in worrying about what life will be like in three or six months. None of us has any control over the distant future. All we can do is make the most of the here and now.

Instead of whisking myself across the world to Nicaragua, China, or Thailand, I have been able to spend quality time with my family and friends. I have learned to calm down and control my wild thoughts as the wind howled and the rain poured down outside.

In January, I experienced absolute despair. Drained of energy by so many antibiotics, I spent New Year’s Eve on my own rather than attending either of the two house parties I’d been invited to. It felt like the darkest hour. Even at that stage, I thought I would be well on the road to recovery by mid-March.

Today, though, the nurse had good news. There was no sign of infection for the eighth day in a row. My daily visits to the clinic would be reduced to three days per week. A real sign of progress.

I met a former colleague to walk the prom in the sunshine and neither of us were bothered that we no longer had “9 to 5” jobs to go to. His enthusiasm about leaving work after so many years and going back to education has inspired me. 

We had our health and the sun was shining, the sea was flat calm. No matter how scary it has been, we have both got out of our “comfort zones”.

This afternoon it felt as though the darkest hour had passed and I had just seen the dawn.

During our walk, I met one of the most inspirational people in my life. Old schoolfriend Liam, who has battled meningitis for over 20 years, was walking along the seafront with his customary determination.

He told me he’s about to become a paralympian, representing Ireland, in cycling. Given how that man has battled for good health – and how much he has defied medical opinion over the past two decades – I was in no position to doubt him for a second. 

If Liam says he will be cycling for Ireland next summer, I know for a fact that he will be. I have never met anyone who has faced such obstacles and yet shown such determination to live a full and healthy life as Liam.

Last week I spoke to another good friend, Karl, whose life was almost destroyed in a motorcycle accident 12 years ago. Like Liam, he has learned to face adversity head-on. 

Neither of them sits around thinking about how unfair life has been. 

Today Liam and I chatted in the sun and I realised that my self-pity had evaporated. I remembered how good it is just to bump into people I hold dearly in my heart, by chance, during a walk in my home town.

On a glorious, sunny day in Galway, I felt like I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

I’m already looking forward to my first swim in five months, my first visit to the gym, and my first trip abroad since having surgery three times. I am beginning to see how pointless all the panic was as I mulled over voluntary redundancy last year.

I am half way through an excellent 12 week Build Your Own Digital Business course in which I have met some great people. I would never have done the course if it wasn’t for my shoulder troubles. The infections clipped my wings in terms of global travel, but they gave me time to take stock and realise what's important in life.

In recent days I have also been invited to get involved in two exciting new projects in Galway. The financial rewards might be minimal, but it’s great to experience the energy involved in getting new ventures off the ground.

I would not wish the last five months of my life on anyone, the scares, the frustrations, the countless medical appointments, and yet they have taught me very valuable lessons about my life.

It’s only when you experience ill health that you really appreciate all your blessings. As long as you are breathing, everything else can be worked on.

Good news at a time of renewal and change

On the first day of Spring, with a longer stretch evident in the evenings, renowned Shaman Midie Corcoran asked a group of us to pass through a giant St Bridget’s Belt to mark the passing of Winter and the hope of renewal which comes with this time of year.

As I left the weekly meditation class, I realised the depression which had gripped me through much of the Winter had all but disappeared. My health was improving and it was great to share my hopes for better fortune with a wonderful group of people as we marked the start of February.

Sometimes life works in mysterious ways. Since taking voluntary redundancy from the Connacht Tribune I have had surgery twice on a serious shoulder injury, had to visit the public health nurses about 70 times since Halloween, and found myself gripped by fear through the dark winter months.

Instead of taking up a job I had been promised, but which subsequently fell through, or helping out the poor of Nicaragua – where I found such fulfilment four years ago – I found myself facing my demons in wintry Galway with a lot of time on my hands.

People had read my blog and said I was too hard on myself, which I definitely was. And sometimes, in the midst of pain and suffering, it really is hard to believe that everything happens for a reason.

But now I’m convinced of it. The start of a new life after 22 years in the same job did not mean I had to run away to the other side of the world, much as I love travelling and experiencing different cultures. Not straight away, anyways. Perhaps I needed time to face the fears I had avoided by being busy for so long. 

When you have a crazy, busy life, like I had, you may never have time to really look at yourself in the mirror. Rushing from job to gym to social event, which is the life of a busy journalist, can mean there is little time for taking stock or recognising what’s really important in life.

Over Christmas, I was delighted to meet old friends, but I also wallowed in self-pity over the troublesome shoulder and the fact that I no longer had a job. It was probably a good thing that all the antibiotics kept me off the demon drink!

I almost had to reach rock bottom to realise the importance of living for today, right here, right now, rather than worrying about what life will be like in six months or a year.

I hit a low point when I applied for a job which was far too similar to the one I’d left, simply because I wanted to stay in the comfort zone. As the wind howled and the rain poured down two weeks ago, I began to feel sorry for myself.

At times like that, it’s hard to reach out and engage with the world. Friends and family might not even realise how much they helped to lift me out of the Winter blues.

Then I remembered the dignity of friends like Karl and Liam, friends who have tackled far more serious health issues than I have with far more bravery than me over a much longer period of time.

Over the past few days, since the start of Spring, I have come to realise that leaving the ‘safe harbour’ could yet become the best decision I ever made. It’s a chance for growth, for change, and there is nothing fulfilling about staying in the same place for too long, even if being unemployed or self-employed can be scary at times.

On the second day of Spring, I jumped out of bed. The Public Health Nurse who had seen me most over the past three months had made an appointment for me, even though there was no onus on her to see me since the second operation two weeks ago.

After knocking me out cold, the surgeon had given me the kind of stitches which dissolve by themselves. But she wanted to make sure everything was ok after seeing me wallow in despair for a few weeks.

On a bright Monday morning, she had great news. It looked as though the injured cyst, which caused a serious infection, had finally healed. Two more weeks and I might even be back in the swimming pool for the first time since Halloween. As I left the clinic, I was on Cloud Nine.

Then I went for an interview for a ten week course, which is all about starting an online business. It will give me skills in Search Engine Optimisation, pay per click, and website design, exactly the kind of skills I will need after leaving the regional newspaper behind. 

And the course is allowing me to meet a wonderful mixture of people from a variety of backgrounds, all seeking to change their lives and careers. Looking at them, seeing how keen they all are to learn, has brought it home to me that there should be no stigma attached to being unemployed.

One lady told me she had been made redundant three times. Change, and how we cope with it, is fundamental to all our lives.

I now know that I will be in Galway for the next 12 weeks and the course has given me just the focus I need as I start to move on with my life. Nicaragua can wait, while I sort myself out and come to terms with how much anxiety the redundancy and shoulder injury brought up in me over the past few months.

On the same afternoon, a person I had admired from a distance for years met me for coffee to talk about changing careers. He gave me so much wonderful advice and wanted nothing in return. He, like nurse Joanne, reminded me that there is so much goodness in people if you only ask them for a helping hand.

Afterwards, I walked the fabulous Salthill promenade, revelling in the extra bit of sunlight and the flat calm sea. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that I was not in Nicaragua or Thailand this winter. I was enjoying a wonderful walk in my home town and filled with gratitude for the uncertain life and new adventures which lie ahead.

Yes, three months of pain, antibiotics, and daily visits to the clinic were not part of the post-redundancy plan. But they taught me so much about my own fears and frustrations that they may really stand to me in the long-term. 

They also taught me to never, ever forget that good health should never be taken for granted. It’s far more important than a job or career.

We all have magic inside us, but it’s hard to find the magic if you spend your life rushing from job to gym to gig, or flying off to escape in the sun.

Spring is in the air and, instead of rushing off to save the world in Central America (much as I’d love to yet), the freak shoulder accident and subsequent surgery have taught me so much about appreciating what I already have in my life.

I might never get a chance to spend wintry Wednesday afternoons hanging out with my elderly parents or two year old nephew again. I might never get a chance to hook up with unemployed friends for leisurely coffees and chats down by the sea.

So January has come to an end. It is hard to imagine how dark and bleak Winter in Ireland was for our ancestors in the days before the electrification of the countryside. No wonder they used to dance with joy when St Bridget’s Day arrived.

Happy Springtime . . . the Winter was long enough this year, but dark days are necessary in order to appreciate the light.

After three months of pain and self-pity, this was a very good week.

Treasuring the simple things

“I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”
― John O'Donohue

Over the past couple of weeks, I have taken to making midweek arrangements to meet up with two of my former colleagues who left work on the same day as me at the end of September.

It gives a focus to our days, to meet up in Salthill once a week, enjoying a walk along our city’s wonderful seafront promenade, before adjourning for a leisurely lunch to swap information and share our experiences of joining the ranks of the newly unemployed.

The one hour walks along by the seafront have flown by, because we have so much to tell each other about how our lives are progressing since we opted for voluntary redundancy.

As one who has complained bitterly about Irish winter weather for way too long, I have been delighted by how much I have enjoyed our weekly walks in the cold and the chance to share our fears and hopes for the future.

Today, Galway Bay was flat calm. There was a serenity and peace about Salthill, which made me appreciate how lucky we were to have our health and to have such stunning scenery as a backdrop to our conversation.

Sometimes, it really is a good thing to focus on the simple things in life.

Both of my former colleagues, both younger than me, have inspired me with their positivity and desire for change.

Whereas I have faced the future with a degree of anxiety and dread, both of them have embraced change with an enthusiasm which has lifted my spirits during our weekly meetings. One of them has opted to return to college, while the other is in the early stages of setting up a new business of her own.

All three of us have helped each other, in terms of how we have dealt with bureaucracy or new clients now that we are out there in the big, bad world.

When you are in the same job for a long time, you don’t realise what is involved in seeking new clients or pitching for work. You learn that people can make promises and then let you down. 

And small companies tend to give very little support to departing workers even though a redundancy can become one of the most stressful events in a person’s life.

Both of my former colleagues have given me enormous support, and excellent advice, and I hope I have been able to reciprocate in my own way. We are learning from each other and, surely, that’s what life is about . . . learning, growth, and change.

Both of them have embraced change with open arms, causing me to question why I am so fearful of an uncertain future after leaving my job of 22 years. 

The weekly walks along the prom have taught me the value of celebrating the simple things in life, such as beautiful scenery, the benefits of a brisk walk, and the joy of good conversation over a cup of coffee.

Normally, after a hard year’s work, I would be soaking up the sun and scuba diving in Thailand, Egypt, or Nicaragua – on holidays – at this time of year. 

It probably still hasn’t sunk in yet that I can go wherever I want or opt for any one of a myriad of options as I face into an uncertain 2015. 

But, thanks to my colleagues, I am seeing new possibilities open up and I’m beginning to realise that I have confused excitement with fear.

Life changes every day, but too many of us grasp for the familiar and even hurt ourselves by resisting change. For me, this process of moving on or changing career might allow me to follow my dreams or passions in the long-term.

Each of us has a magic spark within us, but sometimes it seems hard to dance, or play, or live life to the full. It can seem impossible to turn our dreams or passions into rewarding lives or well-paid careers.

Too often, and for obvious reasons such as mortgages and young families, we settle for the familiarity of the 'comfort zone'.

But my two former colleagues are well on the way to finding the magic and today I found just a pinch of fresh inspiration as we talked along the familiar promenade I have walked 10,000 times. 

Even though I still have a way to go before I learn to live "like a river flows"!