What happened this year?

What happened this year?

Every December I pause and gather the threads of my year.

It’s a lovely ritual, and I’m noticing I start earlier and earlier - maybe because the rush of Christmas can quickly give way to ‘back to work’, or because it feels so dark so early, or simply because it’s a nice thing to do.

It’s absolutely not about looking ahead yet, or creating goals or resolutions - it’s about looking back to see the journey.

In previous years I’ve focused a lot on finding the story of it - looking fully at the ups, the downs, the learning, the insights, the implications.

This year I’m appreciating how powerful it is to simply look back and see what happened, from the start to right now.

So much happens each day, but it’s easy to lose track of how it all adds up when we’re in it.

When you don’t know what you want to do next…

When you don’t know what you want to do next…

When I look back at my career timeline it looks seamless.

I’ve transitioned between different companies, industries, roles, labels, ways of working - and I can clearly see the thread that links them.

At the time? At each of those crossroads? Not so much!

At each of those points I was full of confusion. It’s a tricky time. Knowing that something has come to an end, but not what will start up next.

What I did know was what I didn’t want.

Are you over thinking and under doing?

Are you over thinking and under doing?

When I have the urge to write, it can be really tempting to wait until the idea is fully formed and perfect in my head before I put pen to paper.

My inner critic tells me that I don’t have time to work on it right now, or that I need to think about it more.

It also worries that it won’t be as good on the page as it is in my head, so there’s no point even trying.

For a long time, this meant I didn’t write anything, and all the ideas that bubbled up in me didn’t have anywhere to go. They stayed stuck inside - trapped by overthinking and under doing.

Now I give myself permission to create a messy first draft, because if the idea only exists in my head I’ll never know whether any of those worries are true.

What would your life look like if you viewed it from above?

What would your life look like if you viewed it from above?

I love this picture.

It represents the fun of being up high, the joy of early dog ownership, the beauty of seeing the landscape spread out down below.

It was taken on holiday in West Wales back in 2018. Freddie and I are at the top of Mwnt, while my husband and children are on the beach down below.

They were happy doing, and I was happy being and seeing them.

Seeing our lives from above like this can be both calming and grounding. Things really do look different, and feel different, when we look down on our lives rather than being in them.

It gives us a moment to pause, to see the bigger picture, to put things in context.

Can I talk at you for a bit?

Can I talk at you for a bit?

One simple question has made an enormous difference to my life, my relationships, my choices - and a lot of conversations with my husband: “Can I talk at you for a bit?”

I know now that when I’m stuck or need to work through something, I do my best thinking and feeling when the words come out of my head.

Often, I really don’t know how I feel about something until I say it out loud, and it can take me by surprise.

I’m so glad that I know this now, because it’s not a neat process.

It can take some time and lots of verbal circles - creating a messy first draft and then revising in real time. I need to follow the thread without worrying about it making sense.

And for that, I need a patient witness to listen and let me talk it out. To be OK with me talking AT them for a bit, rather than WITH them.

How to feel more comfortable in the spotlight

How to feel more comfortable in the spotlight

Standing up and speaking in front of an audience - whether sharing a story, giving a speech, or presenting your work - can be a wonderful experience.

It’s an opportunity to have an impact on people who matter to you, personally or professionally.

And it can also be completely nerve wracking.

Our minds can go wild - the doubt can creep in and the ‘what ifs’ start - and our body can get in the mix too.

My tells? My heart begins to pound and my legs start to shake - a winning combination!

And I know I’m not alone.

Is this a good fit for me?

Is this a good fit for me?

Many years ago, a defining experience was not getting a job I thought I really wanted.

I had applied to a graduate scheme that felt like the perfect next step, and made it all the way to the last stage before not getting an offer.

It felt like a shocking failure. An example of not measuring up.

For many years I made it all about me and what I’d done wrong. If only I could have been different, been more of what they were looking for.

I never stopped to wonder if it simply wasn’t the right fit for me.

How to have a useful career conversation...

How to have a useful career conversation...

…when you don’t know exactly what you want to do next.

Many of us dread being asked the question - where do you want to be in 5 years?

We simply can’t tell you the role we want to be in, or where we want to be. We don’t know.

And that’s absolutely fine.

Except… it can be really hard when other people know their answer, and it feels that we should too.

So, we default to the response we feel we ‘should’ give, or leave it wide open - neither of which feel right.

But there is a different way to have a useful career conversation.

Don't create unnecessary boxes!

Don't create unnecessary boxes!

Recently I found myself creating a framework for the different types of people I coach, and the different types of ways we coach together.

There is now SO much variety, and I thought I’d found a brilliant way of organising it all.

It felt so interesting - look at these patterns! I could even make it into a 4-box matrix!

It made complete sense in my mind, until…

  • I started to spot the (many) exceptions to the rule.

  • I shared it out loud, trying to explain my thinking, and confused myself each time.

  • I finally realised what a ridiculous thing I was doing (with thanks to Claire Pedrick MCC).

Why was I trying to fit everyone and all their experiences into one of 4 boxes???

The joy of exploring the possibility

The joy of exploring the possibility

Back in April a friend and I applied to take part in the BBC’s Race Across the World.

It was a spontaneous decision, prompted by a conversation on a very long walk, and a quick google search that showed the deadline was in a couple of days.

At first we dismissed it as a ridiculous idea! We agreed that:

  • It was terrible timing - perhaps at some point in the future?

  • It wasn’t possible, we couldn’t take 2 months off from our lives when we played so many roles for so many different people.

  • It was completely pointless - there was no chance of being chosen.

And then we decided to take a few steps…