Sue Redmond

Today, I’m here to celebrate something that might sound a bit odd at first—my joyous redundancy. Yes, you read that right! There comes a point in my line of work when I become as useful as a snow shovel in the Sahara, as relevant as a tape recorder in 2024, and as needed as an umbrella in the desert. And it’s absolutely fantastic!

In fact, it is funny to be writing about redundancy, as nearly 10 years ago when I came back from my honeymoon my entire team and I were being made redundant. Initially a shock and then the weight of it. Even word redundancy carries a certain weight, doesn’t it? It's got that heavy, leaden quality to it, like a soggy blanket that someone’s thrown over your head. It has a tone of ‘uselessness’ and it hurt like hell because it was a job I was so passionate about that had an incredible impact.  

In truth though, it was time for me to go and my loyalty would probably have meant I would have stayed and not faced that truth. It was the universe’s not-so-subtle way of saying, “Hey, stop clinging to that spaceship! There’s a whole galaxy out there!” I needed to turn into Mary Poppin’s my work there was done and it was time to move on. That experience has unfolded into a wonderful journey. 

In my somatic work with people my mission is to help people heal from their past traumas, to unshackle themselves from the chains of fear, shame, embarrassment, humiliation, hurt, or anger, and to step into the present with a joyful heart and a lighter spirit. And guess what? When they finally get there, it means my job is done. 

Let me paint you a picture of what this glorious redundancy looks like.

Stage 1: The Arrival

When clients first arrive, they often carry with them the emotional equivalent of a suitcase filled with bricks. They’re dragging it around, wondering why life feels so heavy. My job? Help them unpack that suitcase brick by brick, each one labelled with past pains and heartaches.

Stage 2: The Unpacking

At first, it’s a bit like a sitcom montage—tears, laughter, more tears, and the occasional “Eureka!” moment when they finally understand why their neighbour’s pet goldfish makes them irrationally angry. (Hint: it’s never really about the goldfish.) 

Stage 3: The Lightening (discharge)

As the sessions go by, the suitcase gets lighter. They release the hurt from the past, discharge the energy of often righteous rage. They start to see that they’re not defined by their past, that the shame or guilt they’ve been carrying around isn’t theirs to keep. It’s like watching someone shed a winter coat on the first warm day of spring. 

Stage 4: The Transformation

Then comes the beautiful transformation. They start living in the present, savouring the little moments, and finally coming home to their bodies. They laugh more, worry less, and suddenly, their future looks a lot brighter. They’re like butterflies emerging from cocoons, ready to take on the world with newfound freedom. They see opportunities that previously unhelpful beliefs prevented them from seeing or reaching for. Potential is everywhere, the job, the lover, the adventure, the change, the possibilities and the hope all become real possibilities. 

Stage 5: The Redundancy

And this, my friends, is where the magic happens. One day, they walk into the session with a sparkle in their eye and a spring in their step. They tell me about their week, and for the first time, there’s no crisis, no deep-seated fear, no lurking shadows of the past. They’ve done it—they’ve healed.

At this point, I’m as necessary as a guidebook to a local. They’ve got this whole life thing figured out! My role? Smile, maybe shed a little tear of pride, and prepare to wave them off into their bright new future.

The Joy of Redundancy

You see, redundancy in this context isn’t a bad thing—it’s the best thing. It’s like being the parent of a kid who just learned to ride a bike. You cheer them on, knowing they no longer need training wheels. Sure, I might feel a pang of “empty nest syndrome” when a client moves on, but it’s quickly replaced by sheer joy.

So here’s to all the healed souls out there, living joyfully in the present, and to the sweet redundancy of my work. May we all find the courage to unpack our suitcases, shed our winter coats, and flutter away like the beautiful butterflies we were always meant to be.

And as for me? I’ll be here, ready to become redundant all over again.

Cheers to healing, joy, and the blissful redundancy that follows!