A Reflection on My Lost Invulnerability

“Big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

This moment between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the first Avengers film has recently taken a new depth of meaning for me. It’s a classic clash of egos and ideals, but it’s also a moment that challenges the core of each character’s identity. What are any of us without the "suit"? What are we

without the accolades, the money, the status?

For most of my life, I’ve been privileged to grow up in environments that demanded a belief in my own specialness. As the first-born in a Nigerian Christian home, I was not only a child of God, expected to stand apart from the world, but also an eldest sibling with the responsibility of setting the example. My academic achievements reinforced this belief—I was "gifted and talented" in primary school, moved on to private and grammar schools that hammered home our exceptional-ness as their students, and was taught that failure was only a temporary setback. I was special. I was invulnerable.

This mindset carried me through my career at Deloitte. I found myself on the toughest projects, constantly adapting to whatever role was needed—requirements gathering, process mapping, test management, agile coaching, diversity and inclusion advocacy. Whatever it was, I took it on, because that’s just what I did—I saved the day. It was the belief we were all given as part of our analyst induction, and is a belief that has propelled so many Deloitte alumni to incredible roles worldwide. So, when I moved to Wayve, I fully expected to be part of transforming the experience of working in the AI and machine learning industries. And when my journey with Wayve ended, I assumed I’d quickly find my next role. After all, that’s how life had always worked for me—who wouldn’t snatch me up?

But reality hit hard. Months of applications, interviews, and rejections didn’t kill my spirit, but they did remind me that even the most “special” of us are still beholden to market conditions. My main concern was that I had been the “high earner” since graduation—the one who looked after everyone because I had the financial ability to do so. My value, in my mind, was tied to my salary. I convinced myself that I needed a job to return to that role, that identity.

I took up shifts on Amazon Flex, thinking the work would tide me over until the tide turned—until a tight junction put a deep scratch in the side of the car, ending that plan. I applied and was rejected from a serving role at McDonald’s, further bruising my ego. I signed on for, and ran out of, National Insurance-based Income Support. Meanwhile, friends in life and on LinkedIn were regularly announcing new jobs, while I was still waiting. I had found my recipe for humble pie, for sure. And anyone who was following me back then, will have seen the MANY desperate cry for help posts, getting steadily less bubbly over time, as I tried to lean into this new world where I literally had to be vulnerable to make the progress I so desperately wanted.

What I failed to realise was that I wasn’t going through this alone—and I never had been. I needed to recognise that my achievements in life were never just the result of my own efforts. I have been surrounded by friends, family, colleagues and God who all created the environment and opportunities for me to thrive, providing support and coverage where needed. This period has been a chance for God to remind me that we do all things through Christ. While it would have been easy to focus on the negatives, I would have done a disservice to all the good that has happened during this time as well. I spent valuable time with my son, including fully potty training him and helping him start nursery. I supported my wife at home and with her business. I was able to serve more in church. And as challenging as my own journey was, it was always a blessing to celebrate the good things happening to people I care about—including their new jobs.

Last week, I started a new chapter with Somerset House Trust, but I am taking the lessons of the last 11 months with me. Firstly, I’ve realised that I am just like everyone else. Though I don’t live in fear of going through this again, I know I have to keep working hard each day, not just for the job, but also to maintain the relationships with my friends and family and to do good in the world. But secondly, the truth is that though I’m no longer invulnerable, that doesn’t mean I’m not still special. I know the value of what I bring, and though it took time, I have found a place where our values aligned.

I really want to hammer this last point because I know so many of us are struggling in the job market right now. I know the mental and emotional toll it can take. It is difficult, for sure, but keep going. Take breaks when you need to, but remember that this isn’t a reflection of your value. We may not be invulnerable, but we are all special, all needed, and you’ll get through this.

My journey over the past year has been a humbling one—a period of reevaluation and growth. I’ve learned that my identity is not just tied to my job or salary, but to the service and availability I offer to others and within myself. I’ve realised the importance of recognising the support systems that have helped me along the way. And while I may have lost the sense of invulnerability I once had, I’ve gained a deeper understanding of what truly makes me special.

For those of you still navigating the job market, know that your worth isn’t defined by your current circumstances. I know the mental and emotional toll it can take being in that constant loop of application, waiting and rejection. It is difficult, for sure, but keep going. Take breaks when you need to, but remember that even this isn’t a reflection of your real value. We may not be invulnerable, but you are special, your gift is needed, and I can't wait to celebrate with you when your situation changes!