A message of hope for mid-life women worried about the future… When I was let go at 50 it felt like I’d died

New Year, New You. For some of us that isn’t just an option — do that juice fast, get down to the gym more often — but an essential.

If you are one of the unlucky ones who has been made redundant and are starting 2024 looking for a new job then I’m sorry. In fact, I really feel your pain — been there, done that.

It’s grim. The rejection stings, the loss of tribe is massive — particularly if you’ve worked somewhere, like I had, for nearly 25 years. 

It’s horrible being whacked at any time. But for those of us who lose our jobs in midlife — I lost mine just as I turned 50 — there is also the added fear of whether we’ll ever be hired again.

Often recruitment algorithms aren’t kind to ‘more experienced’ (read ‘older’) workers; the computer says ‘no’ before our CV has even been read.

Redundancy is one of the last taboos. It happens to the best of us, but it’s rarely talked about.

When it happened to me, I felt as though I had died. I was sent so many emails from co-workers about the good times we’d had, that it was like reading my own obituary over and over.

I’d been used to running a huge team and being super busy. Every second of every day — from the moment I woke up to when my head hit the pillow — was filled to the max.

There was always a queue of people asking for a decision, my email pinged constantly, I careered from meeting to meeting sending texts and emails, while also trying to keep my husband and children happy.

Then, out of the blue on a normal Tuesday afternoon, I was summoned to see the new boss.

I wasn’t worried; I’d always been a high performer and my numbers were good. I pulled together my plans for the following months, intending to give her an outline of what my department was up to.

But when I walked into the room I instantly knew something was up. It wasn’t just the boss, but also the head of HR — there was a tell-tale box of tissues on the table between them.

My heart began to race. Crikey, it was that meeting: the one that comes to us all at some point. I realised I was about to be terminated.

It’s a strange feeling knowing that a massive part of your life and identity is ending; that everything that was the present — normal life, normal routine — is over. That the past really is a foreign country and there is no way back.

It’s a bit like being in a car crash. Time slows down, the mind plays tricks. Everything seems far away or in slow motion.

I remember watching pigeons swooping round the church spire outside the swanky glass window of the boss’s office. Of words being spoken that my brain just wasn’t taking in — compensation, years served, that it was over. 

All that loyalty, commitment, hard work, passion reduced to a too-large number on a spreadsheet.

I dug my fingernails into my hands, determined not to cry. And then I was out, walking back to my desk, everything the same but irrevocably different.

I picked up my bag, mumbled an excuse about a family emergency and ran out of the office.

I walked back to the station, the walk I’d done thousands of times — numb with shock and grief.

It just didn’t add up. I was good at my job, I was doing well and I still got whacked. My competitive brain just couldn’t process that. I’d always thought that being good would protect me. Then it didn’t. 

I sat at home feeling like I had ten arms and nothing to do with any of them. I felt truly redundant in terms of not having anything to do. The transition was so sudden I felt undone. 

I had spent so many years prioritising my job over almost everything that without it I had no idea who I was. 

I’d worn a big Game Of Thrones-style black fur cloak of power — and then it was taken away. Without it I felt naked, vulnerable and rejected. It wasn’t just losing the job but the total loss of identity.

I went home and licked my wounds, watched The Crown on repeat and cried.

One of the lowest moments was when I Googled ‘Midlife redundancy’, then ‘Being made redundant at 50’ and then ‘life after redundancy’. . . and all that came up was the HMRC website.

It was not the guide to what might come next that I’d been hoping for. I was seeking a path of white pebbles out of the dark wood. Back then, there was nothing like that out there.

In that moment, the seeds of my new life took shape. In my despair I found a niche.

I’ve always believed in President Obama’s maxim that: ‘We are the ones we have been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.’

So I founded my community at noon.org.uk — a website devoted to helping women find a new chapter in midlife.

After all, in the 100-year life (which, demographically, is where we are headed), 50 is only halfway through. The good news is that a couple of years on, I now see that dark time as one of the best things that ever happened to me.

The truth is that I was stale. I needed a new challenge. I would never have had the courage to jump, but having been pushed, I discovered that I love running my own business.

To begin with it was scary. As a senior executive, I had made decisions all day and had teams of people to execute them.

As a founder, I had to do everything myself — from tech to making the tea. When I did my first Instagram live, I couldn’t make it work and my teenage daughter had to show me.

These days I regularly stream live content to multiple platforms, learn new skills and meet new people every day. 

I am so inspired by the incredible women in my community and their reinventions — many are going back to university, starting their own businesses or getting new jobs.

Society can make older women feel invisible and, yes, that word again: redundant. But the truth is, we’re in our prime. We’re not done, we’re just getting started (82 of the 100 Most Powerful Women on the Forbes list are over 50).

Yes, change is difficult. The initial pain is real. I was full of anxiety about the future, personal, professional, and financial. I grieved the person I had been.

But what I have learnt is that when something massive goes from your life — a job, a spouse, an empty nest — it leaves room for something new to grow. And starting again at 50, while scary, is also exciting and rejuvenating.

I feel so much more nimble and free without that big black power cloak. It feels like being in my 20s again, when all was new and shiny and there was so much to learn.

I’m full of purpose and vim. I love controlling my time rather than being on someone else’s clock, and I learned who my real friends were (and it’s never who you think).

Being made redundant was my biggest nightmare, it took me to a dark place. But it also forced me to re-invent and become a better, wiser, kinder version of myself. I dissolved my old armour in the salt of my tears.

So if you’ve just lost your job in midlife, or if you’re fearful for the future, take heart. It may not feel like it now, but it might all turn out for the best. Follow what you love. Do what brings you joy. And good luck!

• Eleanor Mills is the founder of noon.org.uk — home of the queenager. A platform for reinvention in midlife.