Redundant. Its in the name. I’m hanging around the house all the time. My girls are wondering when I’m going back to work. I joke with them, but my wife has a look on her face I’ve never seen before. Its a line between worry and disappointment. I understand her frustration. I didn’t ask for this either, I don’t deserve it (do I?) and it wasn’t on my list of things-to-do-before-retirement. But here we are. I never overly identified with my job - I know its a marriage of convenience. I’ve worked my whole life and now I’m … redundant. What is my worth?

Everyone I know seems to be self-employed or works for the government. You should start your own business. Someone like you should have no problem finding a job. Have you considered a job with the council - they have great pension options. What about a career change. Well-meaning but useless. I just need to work harder and tomorrow will be a better day. What is my worth?

I tried to claim unemployment benefit. I’ve never claimed welfare before - I’m a stranger in a strange land. I waited, thinking I’d land a job quickly. Its all under control sweetheart, I’ll have another job in a few weeks. My unemployment claim is denied - I should have applied immediately. You fool. Another knee on my chest. What is my worth?

My early career was going nowhere and I saw the writing on the wall. I spent thousands of hours studying. Trying to improve. Two part-time degrees at night. I went from work, to evening lectures, to the hospital to hold my newborn twins’ tiny hands, nestled in their incubators, praying and watching each little breath. I will provide for you and keep you safe. What is my worth?

My children are all grown up. Nobody needs me anymore for bed-time stories, walks in the woods, silly games, scraped knees, spontaneous hugs. I’m redundant. I think of both my granddads who fought in the first World War; my uncles who fought and died in World War 2, their deeds immortal. I have no problems; this is all bullshit; its just a job. But the sides of the grave slip with each small rejection and the weight of the little lies I tell myself. What is my worth?

I cook, I clean, mow the lawn, walk the dog, make small-talk, exercise, read. I listen to Tolkien on long walks in the autumn woods and find myself unexpectedly moved to tears by the beauty of the language and the wind in the trees. I persevere. This too shall pass.

“And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.”
- Louis MacNiece