Many years ago (almost 30 - eek!) I did a History degree. Not the most obvious first step to a career in marketing, consulting and coaching, but what I really wanted to study.
I loved my teachers at A level and connecting the dots between the past, the present and the future. I loved the stories, the cycles, the learnings, the repeating patterns. I loved finding the thread and making sense of the journey.
I still do.
One of my favourite parts of a yoga class is the beginning.
Coming in, finding a space, sitting down, and then lying down – the lovely feeling that there is nowhere else to be, nothing else to do.
My back takes a breath, my body relaxes, the snow globe of my mind settles and clears. All in the space of a few minutes!
A simple act, that feels like it shouldn’t do much, but seems to work magic on me.
So now I do this more often.
I started knitting when my first child was born, lucky to be patiently taught by a lovely older lady in a local shop.
It was super fun to make cute, small things and I found it creative and relaxing.
Over time it became less fun. As my children got bigger so did the projects, and then (when no one wanted to wear my knitting anymore!) I thought I should challenge myself with 4 needle socks in the round…
I haven’t knitted since - I took something I wanted to do and I set too big, too hard a goal. I took the joy and the sense of creativity and achievement out of it.
Until now. One ball of wool + the simplest, easiest pattern they had in the shop. Starting with something I want to do and can do :-)
It’s also how I’m approaching this year.
Mine is this picture.
In a cosy chair, in a lovely cafe, with a delicious coffee and some spaciousness - to write, to read, to reflect - to pause before I get back to work and life.
It’s also yin yoga, and a great book, or a jigsaw puzzle, or walk in the fresh air with a podcast, a dog, and/or a companion.
In the last couple of years, it’s even been a night away just for me - to be in my own space, to follow my energy, without being in charge of anyone except me.
It’s useful to know that these things help restore my energy levels, so I can have them as a menu to choose from when I need them.
Otherwise, when I’m tired, it’s too easy to slip into activities that feel like a break but don’t actually do me any good.
(Of course, sometimes I still do this anyway, we’re all a work in progress!).
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
