A message of hope for middle-aged women worried about the future… When I was let go at 50, I felt like I was dead – now I feel like I’m in my twenties again

New year, new you. For some of us, that’s not just an option – do it quickly, go to the gym more often – but essential.

If you are one of the unfortunate ones who has been fired and will be looking for a new job from 2024, then I think that’s a shame. In fact, I really feel your pain – been there, done that.

It’s grim. The rejection is painful, the loss of tribe is enormous – especially if you have worked somewhere, like me, for almost 25 years.

It’s terrible to be beaten at any time. But for those of us who lose our jobs mid-life – I lost mine just as I turned 50 – there is also the added fear of whether we will ever be hired again.

Often recruitment algorithms are not kind to ‘more experienced’ (read ‘older’) employees; 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 like I was dead. I received so many emails from colleagues about the good times we had that it was like reading my own obituary over and over again.

I was used to leading a huge team and being super busy. Every second of every day – from the moment I woke up to the moment my head hit the pillow – was filled to the max.

There was always a line of people asking for a decision, my email was constantly pinging, I was rushing from meeting to meeting sending texts and emails, while also trying to keep my husband and kids happy.

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

I wasn’t worried; I always performed well and my grades were good. I put together my plans for the coming months, intending to give her an overview of what my department was up to.

But when I entered the room, I immediately knew something was wrong. It was not only the boss, but also the head of HR; There was a tell-tale box of tissues on the table between them.

My heart started racing. Crikey, it was that meeting: the one that happens to all of us at some point. I realized I was about to be terminated.

It’s a strange feeling to know that a large part of your life and identity is coming to an end; that everything that was the present – ​​normal life, normal routine – is over. That the past is truly a foreign land and there is no way back.

It looks a bit like a car accident. Time slows down, the mind plays tricks. Everything seems far away or in slow motion.

I remember seeing pigeons swooping around the church steeple outside the fancy glass window of the boss’s office. Of words spoken that my brain just couldn’t process – compensation, served for years, that it was over.

All that loyalty, dedication, hard work and passion reduced to one too big number on a spreadsheet.

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

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

I walked back to the station, the walk I had done thousands of times before – numb with fear and sadness.

It just wasn’t right. I was good at my job, I was doing well and I still got beaten. My competitive brain just couldn’t process that. I always thought being good would protect me. That didn’t happen then.

I sat at home feeling like I had ten arms and had nothing to do with it. I felt really redundant because I had nothing to do. The transition was so sudden that I felt undone.

I had spent so many years focusing on my work above almost everything else that without my work I had no idea who I was.

I had been wearing 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 the loss of the job, but the total loss of identity.

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

One of my lowest moments was when I Googled “Midlife redundancy,” then “Getting fired at age 50,” then “life after layoff.” . . and all that came up was the HMRC website.

It wasn’t the guide to what might come that I had hoped for. I looked for a path of white pebbles out of the dark forest. There was nothing like this at the time.

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

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

That’s why I started my community at noon.org.uk – a website that helps women find a new chapter in middle age.

After all, in the 100-year lifespan (which demographically is where we’re headed), 50 is only halfway there. The good news is that, a few years later, I now consider that dark time to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.

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

For starters, it was scary. As a senior executive, I had been making decisions all day and had teams of people to implement them.

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

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

I’m so inspired by the incredible women in my community and their reinventions – many going back to college, 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 are in our prime. We’re not done yet, 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 worries about the future, personally, professionally and financially. I felt sad for the person I had been.

But what I’ve learned is that when something big disappears from your life – a job, a spouse, an empty nest – it leaves room for something new to grow. And starting over at 50, while scary, is also exciting and rejuvenating.

I feel so much more agile and free without that big black cloak of power. I feel like I’m in my twenties again, when everything was new and shiny and there was so much to learn.

I am full of purpose and vim. I like controlling my time instead of watching someone else’s clock, and I learned who my real friends were (and it’s never who you think).

Getting fired was my worst nightmare, it took me to a dark place. But it also forced me to reinvent myself and become a better, wiser and kinder version of myself. I dissolved my old armor in the salt of my tears.

So if you’ve just lost your job in middle age, or you’re afraid of the future, be brave. It may not feel like it now, but it can all work out for the best. Follow what you love. Do what gives you joy. And good luck!

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