The best thing I did before getting made redundant
And it isn't transfer all my files onto Google Drive
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been writing about Bronnie Ware’s Top Regrets of the Dying.
Number 2 on the list is:
“I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.”
A couple of years ago, this was me.
I realised I was working too hard.
Not in the heroic curing polio or exposing people in the Epstein Files kind of way – more in the answering emails from the bathroom while dinner goes cold kind of way.
The hours were long.
The tasks were endless.
The two-factor authentication prompts never quit.
Work wasn’t something I did. It was who I was.
And as I’ve slowly come to realise, that’s a risky place to hang your sense of self.
I wish I could say I had some great epiphany.
It was quieter than that.
A creeping discontent.
A distinct lack of purpose.
A calendar that felt too full – but somehow empty.
In his book Work Backwards, Tim Duggan writes about designing your life from the end, not the middle.
He suggests asking yourself, “What do I want to be remembered for?”
Rather than “What do I need to get done by Friday?”
Here I was, extrinsically motivated, by money, status, and reputation.
I had achieved a lot, but I wasn’t feeling fulfilled.
So I started making small changes.
I enrolled in a comedy course.
I started writing weekly newsletters.
I let myself be terrible at new things.
Not to monetise them. Not to win awards. But because they brought joy.
I started carving out an hour a day for these things.
Sometimes two or more on weekends.
Joy is greedy like that.
Which brings me to now:
My role at ARN has been made redundant.
And yeah, it’s sad. Eight years is a long time to spend anywhere.
Long enough to build a career. A reputation. To form friendships that I’ll carry well into the future.
But it hurts less than it would have two years ago – because I’ve started building a life and identity outside of work.
One where my joy isn’t linked to hitting KPIs.
Where I no longer need a job title to introduce myself at parties.
I don’t share this to gloat. Redundancy is no one’s idea of a flex.
I share it in case someone out there is still postponing the good stuff.
Still telling themselves, “I’ll start the podcast, write the script, learn the thing after this busy patch.”
There is always another busy patch.
If you’re lucky enough to be employed right now, I hope you’re also finding time to build a version of yourself that exists beyond the job title.
It doesn’t have to be radical.
It could just be an hour a day.
Or a few hours a week.
Because jobs end.
Roles get made redundant.
And life? Life doesn’t wait.
And neither should you.