I’m curious about those folk who say they feel tired all the time. In my line of work as a coach when people say this it is often accompanied by statements such as

Time is going so fast

How is the weekend over already

I can’t face another week of this

How will I get everything done

There are certain things in life that will result in a certain level of tiredness – ill health, bringing up children, looking after ageing parents, exercise, a hectic weekend especially if it involves travelling about. But I’m not talking about that kind of tiredness. I’m talking about the stuff that seeps into your bones like the cold on a deep December day in a house with inefficient heating. The kind of tiredness that makes you question if there’s more to life than the way you’re currently doing things.

I read an article in the Harvard Business Review in which the author states “Being busy is not the same as being productive”. It made me think about that feeling of tiredness so often coming from a certain busy-ness that lacks critical reflection. We’re doing all the things but how often do we pause to ask if they are energy givers or energy takers?

I’ve worked with a lot of people in the helping professions. I’m struck by how often they are depleted in the course of their work. I’ve been depleted in the past too and realise it’s remarkably easy to feel you have to suck it up, that it’s inevitable and maybe one day you’ll magically learn how to balance everything and you won’t feel that tired again.

I wonder what’s in it for us if we keep ourselves busy. This feels like a significant question. As bizarre as it can seem to think we keep bad habits going because there’s something in it for us, it’s true! Reflecting on my own experience, I would suggest that staying busy meant in the past I didn’t have to confront questions such as

What do I actually want from my working life

Is this relationship still working

I feel I should do this but my heart’s not in it – what does that mean?

These are big topics – and you might have them lurking at the back of your mind, heart and soul too. I believe it’s possible to spend a lifetime avoiding them. And so the tiredness continues.

Just to go back to the idea that being busy is not the same as being productive. It would be easy to think that being productive means having certain tangible things at the end of a period of time. So some critical reflection is required here too. Time spent productively could be

Two minutes stood outside in fresh air to create a pause in screen time during the working day

A whole day absorbed in a book that nurtures your imaginative self

Taking time to learn how to do a home improvement task

Declining an offer to see someone on a day you are already being social – more time with one person, being fully present, as opposed to having half an eye on the time you need to leave by to get to the next social interaction

Underneath these ideas is my belief that we can all slow down and do things that benefit our own inner sense of wellbeing – and this is productive.

There are energy givers and energy takers – do you know what yours are?

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Whilst writing this piece I had Slow and Steady by Of Monsters & Men in my head. It is a beautiful song and I love it dearly. It is a song I go to often when I am nurturing the “just being” part of me that wants to slow down. Whilst I have this song in my life I can keep the cause of pervasiveness tiredness at bay. You can see a live recording of it on You Tube:

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/-jee3voi2Zk?rel=0&autoplay=0&showinfo=0&enablejsapi=0

On not having a destination.

How soon after you wake up in the morning do you start thinking about all the things you need to do?

And how often do you judge your day by how much you’ve managed to tick off that to do list?

I’m not here to tell you to stop doing things. The world does need a fair amount of things being done to keep on turning.

But how much?

And how much do we prioritise doing over being?

What’s the cost of this?

I’m also not here to ask endless questions so enough of that.

We seem to measure value in action. How many times have I responded to the question of what I did at the weekend with a

“Not much, I was really lazy!”

When in fact what I was “doing” was investing in being; waking up without an alarm, reading in bed for a bit with a cup of tea, going for a walk in my local area and having the time to make a hearty lunch from scratch. Enjoying a glass of wine with a friend or my partner in the evening. Having a second day waking up without an alarm. Watching a film, reading some more, catching up with my parents on the phone.

These types of weekend, when I think about them now, feel slow and time is expansive. The slowness allows me to feel rooted in myself. I sleep well and feel lighter than when I rush from thing to thing or am chasing down tasks on my to do list.

Recently I decided to take some of this slowness into my working week. I no longer jump straight into the shower but make and enjoy a pot of tea before I do anything else. Yes, I am aware of the privileged position I’m in working from home most of the time.

I sometimes read during my lunch break. This is not revolutionary and here I am saying it as if it’s some kind of subversive culture. Yet I notice how hard it can be to allow myself to read when lots within me is saying “do something” which is code for “reading isn’t productive!”. Yet when I read, everything calms, I feel connected to myself and have that sense of there’s nowhere I need to be other than here, right now, in this moment.

This piece of writing has all sprouted from thoughts I have around folk feeling pressure to get things right and to get to a particular destination through all the things they’re doing. What if there is no destination; what if we stop trying to get somewhere and allow ourselves to be wherever we are in that moment?

Even having that thought can be terrifying. And that’s what stops us from letting go of the idea of needing to get somewhere and therefore doing so much all the time. If we’re not doing, not achieving, not getting somewhere what does that mean for our sense of value and worth? Further, what do we imagine others see or make of our value or worth?

I remember so clearly in therapy voicing “I’m not trying to get anywhere”. It was so freeing. All my life I had worked hard, invested in the idea that if you try hard enough and do enough, things will come. Whilst I wasn’t desperately unhappy, I was questioning what mattered most to me and wondering whether there was more to life than the endless pursuit of status, money and career progression.

This week I listened to an episode of The Edge of Coaching podcast. George Warren hosts and in this episode was in conversation with Clare Norman MCC. Clare speaks passionately about being over doing, specifically in a coaching context. She was quite clear about unlearning, as a coach, the need or habit to get somewhere within a session, of setting goals and actions as if there is somewhere to get to in every moment.

Instead, she suggests staying with, being alongside, deepening the conversation between herself and the person she is coaching as within that exploration may come, all on it’s own, the shift that allows change to occur.

It is a breath of fresh air to hear others promote the state of being.

I’m interested in working with folk who are starting to question doing over being. There is such richness to be found when we put the “there must be more to life than this” comment on the table to take a proper look at it. I’ve already worked with folk on this idea and seen them:

Feeling more energised

Sleeping better

Putting boundaries in

Saying no to things that deplete them

Relax – in how they communicate and in their body language. No more shoulders up around the ears and constant headaches!

We would perhaps all do well to check in with ourselves from time to time and ask if we’re trying to get somewhere, and whether this is serving us. If you end up feeling lost, this poem that found it’s way to me this week may offer some reassurance that lost is not all that it seems

I recently read all the Harry Potter books over the course of just a few months.

I have actively resisted reading any Harry Potter books or watching the subsequent films, for a very long time. A good friend recently asked why, when I told her I’d finally decided to step into the wizarding world.

The laughing face emoji suggests I am well aware how ridiculous what I’ve said, is. I was being honest though. I am stubborn and I baulk whenever I feel pressure to do what the masses are doing. Maybe it’s one way I keep a sense of my own identity as separate and unique to others. Maybe I prefer to see myself as some kind of connoisseur of the obscure and lesser known gems of the cultural world. Maybe I am also very very adept at self deception.

The reality is, I absolutely loved the Harry Potter books. I am an avid reader already and I love nothing more than time to rest with book in hand, the cat by my side for the evening wind down or a cup of tea steaming away as part of my morning ritual. The books took my imagination and provided a rich source of conversation with my partner’s children.

They were the springboard from which my resistance started to diminish. They talked so enthusiastically about the stories that I wondered why I didn’t just read them to see for myself. It has created a point of connection that matters to me and I see now how others’ love of the Harry Potter books is not just about the stories themselves but about the connection it creates with others who also love these same stories.

This post is not about Harry Potter, of course, but a reflection on how I got in my own way. Some unhelpful thought about myself and the nature of popular culture meant it was years before I experienced the utter joy of the Harry Potter stories. And this is despite how well I know my love of reading and of good stories!

Getting in our own way happens a lot. Sometimes I find it useful to ask a coachee

what’s getting in the way?

and more often than not, it is themselves. So we start to unpick these thoughts, feelings, beliefs and see what’s left behind. It can be quite an “unsticking” moment as people realise they can just choose to do something differently. It may sound a simple process but simple doesn’t mean easy. So part of coaching is then to keep trying out differently responses, ways of being and acting until it becomes more natural and you start seeing the kind of results that make you as happy as a coach reading Harry Potter for the first time.

No-one really ever wants to hear this but you’ve got to put the work in.

There, I’ve said it. Now that’s out of the way, let’s look at why.

If you’ve decided to find a coach, you’ve decided you want a bit of help with the thing that’s bothering you, the thing that you want to change.

You might be thinking:

• There’s got to be more to life than this
• I don’t want to be tired all the time
• I feel lost in this relationship
• Why do I get so stressed at work, I don’t want feel this way
• I’m really passionate about this thing but I’ve no idea how to do it

You’ve done your bit and researched a bunch of people who are offering to help. You whittled down your list, did some intro calls and have found the coach for you. Over to them now, right?

Kind of!

But actually, over to both of you.

A coach should be accountable – you are paying them for their time and expertise after all. But they do not have the power to bring about change on your behalf. You are also accountable to yourself.

To get the most from coaching:

1. Prepare for each session

Give yourself 15 – 30 minutes ahead of your session to reflect on what you need. This could be a few days before or right before the session itself. It doesn’t really matter when you do it, just make sure you give yourself the time. Why? Because then you don’t spend the first bit of your session (when you’re paying for your coaches time) trying to figure this bit out.

2. Don’t “run” in or out of your session

Consider when coaching happens in your day / week / month. Are you a morning person, prefer the early afternoon slot or only really do your best work later in the day? What is happening immediately before and after your session – running from one thing to another can make it difficult for the work you’re doing to really land or become integrated

3. Take time after the session to reflect

If you haven’t already done so within the coaching session, take a few moments to take stock of where you are and make any notes. How are you feeling? What do you need to go back to your day? Is a ritual helpful to transition out of coaching back into the rest of life (I’m thinking passing by a favourite cafe, a walk, listening to a particular piece of music for example).

4. Do what you’ve said you’ll do

Possibly the most significant tip. You’ve spent a whole session working hard, exploring stuff and things. You’ve figured out what you need and want to do between now and when you next see your coach. So do it. You have to make the time, no-one else is going to do it for you. A coachee once told me that knowing she had to come back and tell me what she’d done was one of the most powerful things about the process. She held herself accountable.

5. Tell your coach how to get the best from you

This is a relationship so communication is key. Part of coaching usually involves your coach offering constructive challenge -so if you know they best way for you to receive this, tell us. I prefer to be challenged by someone telling me when they notice a discrepancy between what I’m saying and doing (or even my body language) and when this is offered as an observation (the “I’ve noticed something, can I share it with you” type of comment). It’s less likely to raise my defences and it is my decision what to do with someone’s observation.

The winding road that lead me to set up a coaching in nature practice

I was 34 years old before I realised that I hadn’t really ever stopped to properly consider what I like doing and how I could do more of that.

A long term relationship had ended unexpectedly in the summer. I spent the rest of the year licking my wounds and being supported by friends and family. I decided to move away from London and back to Bristol, a place so familiar it was my second home.

I knew I’d end up going back to therapy to help me sort through my feelings around the end of the relationship. But I also knew that this also meant investing some time figuring out simply who I was as a person in my own right. Full disclosure, I was back in Bristol for several months before the therapy started! But I did make a start in other ways.

I really like cricket but didn’t have any existing friendships with folk who shared that interest. So I signed up to volunteer at a local cricket club and spent the summer building new connections and enjoying what I appreciate many consider to be a very boring sport but which for me is a whole world of ebbs and flows that is unrivalled.

I also signed up to the new beginner course of a samba drumming band. Now this was possibly the best decision I could have made. The joy I feel at playing with a group (side note: I am not typically a group person, feeling a bit overwhelmed and not quite knowing where I fit) and creating a feeling that’s so disconnected from my thinking self is, for me, worth it’s weight in gold.

There we go, I’ve used that word. Joy.

Another unexpected event

saw me start 2020 with an existential crisis. Diagnosed with cervical cancer at the age of 35. Not much joy in that.

The addition of a global pandemic was fun.

You’ll recall that in England there was a time we were permitted one walk a day. After surgery this became quite important for me. I thought, if I’m only allowed out of the house once a day and I need to recover from surgery the best way I can, I better make the most of it.

My mum was staying with me to help as I recovered so off we went, every day, step by step. I was catheterized for two weeks which made walking that little bit more uncomfortable but I was determined.

Some weeks after surgery I made it to a local recreation ground – it was Easter and I was really proud of my longest walk yet. Better yet, I could see a lot of green and there was a sense of possibility with spring in the air.

I think it was during this period that I actually started to realise the benefits I felt from simply being outdoors and seeing green spaces. By the time my birthday came around in June, Mum had gone back home and I marked the day by going on a 6 mile walk with my housemate.

Having been running for a number of years, walking was offering me something different. I noticed more, was less focussed on how long it was taking and the movement itself seemed to make things happen internally.

Navigating life post cancer diagnosis was hard. I can’t pretend it was otherwise; the end of 2020 featured a huge amount of grief work in therapy. I recall feeling indescribably sad and bereft; I shed many tears and was grateful for a compassionate and hugely skilled therapist.

Eventually something emerged that has led me here.

Work had previously been, at times, a significant source of stress. Part of this was because I’m a bit of a perfectionist and have a broken barometer when it comes to knowing what’s “good enough”. I spent years focussing on a narrow sense of achievement. I did not nurture joy and I did not stop to think (and feel) whether I was living authentically.

What emerged for me after 2020 was something along the lines of what if I cared less about things that don’t really matter so much? What if I did more of what I like? What is it that I like? How can I figure that out?

Cue more volunteering, walking, yin yoga (honestly such a good way to learn the art of letting go), saving and buying a house, creating a home, knowing my own value and training as a coach.

I’d met two coaches through work and felt like their mindset was something really quite different to what I’d encountered before. That sense of possibility I felt after the Easter walk in 2020 was echoing – what if people could be supported to focus on what’s possible and taking steps to get there? What if quality feedback was the norm, with learning opportunities noticed and acted upon? What if people could get to the heart of the matter quicker and feel a sense of contentment they’d longed for? I’m in!

My own life history and coaching now collide. In the past I’ve been burnt out, stressed, worrying about things that in the scheme of things don’t really matter and living with a sense that things could be different. I’ve also worked alongside people who’ve been in a similar position.

What if burn out wasn’t considered inevitable?

What if we woke up most days looking forward to what lay ahead?

What if we regularly felt that sense of joy that fills our hearts, stomachs and indeed every fibre of our being?

For me these things can be supported by stepping outdoors. Movement, fresh air, nature – what great partners for exploring where the joy lies. I’m passionate about joy because I know what it feels like when it’s missing. I’m no longer prepared to live without nurturing joy and want to help others do the same.

So that’s why I do what I do.