Knackered
Who are you when you’ve got it all?
You’ve been working towards this for years.
Harder than a pit pony on double shifts, even.
You’ve put in the hours, stayed up late and started early, pushing through the days when every part of you was crying out for a duvet and a large gin. You’ve even done the inner work, hired the coach, read the books, and listened to the podcasts, examining yourself from so many angles that you could probably qualify as your own case study.
And you’ve moved to action. Full head-on execution.
And when life knocked you sideways, you hauled yourself up, smoothed out the wrinkles and carried on, sometimes bravely, sometimes grumpily and sometimes fuelled almost entirely by tea and bloody-mindedness.
Because somewhere ahead of you was the thing you wanted.
The business that could finally stand on its own feet. The renovation that would turn dust, delays, and mysterious invoices into an actual home. The dream that had lived in your imagination for so long it had begun to feel like another country.
You had pictured it and seen yourself finally feeling like you could breathe.
Intuitively, you had known that this was the true goal. Finally, you could rest, breathe easy, no more counting, calculating, budgeting or striving.
You would feel... PEACE.
And now, incredibly, you are almost there. Business is steady and taking shape. The builders have packed away most of their noisy machinery and the dream that once looked like a tiny dot in the distance is now close enough to touch.
You whistle your way to the kitchen, smiling as you stand by the window. A lightness surrounds your body—something you haven’t felt since... when?
University? High school?
Phewwww.
For one glorious moment, everything is just perfect.
Then your mind clears its throat.
Apparently, it has a question.
“Hang on” It says. “If I stop putting in all that effort, doing the work, and holding myself together...
Who on earth will I be if I have nothing more to do?”
You stare out of the window as though the answer might be hiding somewhere between the bird feeder and the fence.
A few seconds ago, you were enjoying a perfectly pleasant cup of tea. Now your throat is tight and your mind has launched a full review of your existence, having spotted a rare moment of peace and decided this would be an excellent time to raise concerns.
How exactly are you supposed to do this ‘good life’ gig?
There was clearly a module missing.
Effort has been part of your life for so long that it feels deeply familiar. You know who you think you are when you’re striving: determined, capable and resilient. Slightly knackered, admittedly, but solidly recognisable.
Ease feels far more suspicious.
When you’ve worn the same mask for years, taking it off can leave you wondering what your face looks like. The effort began as something you did, then gradually became an identity you made up out of your own thoughts.
Yet a moment earlier, before that question appeared, everything was already perfect.
You were merely standing by the window, alive, peaceful and clearly chuffed with yourself. The moment required nothing from you because life was already happening: your heart had remembered its job, your lungs were doing theirs and even the bird seemed to be doing its thing.
So your mind, feeling disregarded and rather miffed, offers its POV: find another problem, set a fresh goal, improve something.
Anything. As long as you can worry about it.
“Have I sorted the garden shed yet? Did I pay the decorator? I wonder if I should change the shower head?”
That was all it took. A few words floated right back into your mind and, in an instant, the warm kitchen became a place of worry. Ease became dangerous, the future, once again, became uncertain, and the person holding the mug became someone with an entire life still to sort.
And then, as your mind travels back to just moments before, you see what actually changed.
You’d spent decades believing that the person doing all the ‘efforting’ was who you really were. You defined yourself entirely by the struggle: “I am a hard worker. I am the one who holds it all together.” You treated peace like a prize waiting at the very end of the journey, as if you would somehow vanish into thin air the moment the striving stopped.
Except that lightness you just touched on didn’t require a single scrap of your effort.
It was already right there, standing by the window before the question ever appeared.
You don’t lose yourself when the struggle ends.
Life never needed your permission in the first place. It’s been beating your heart and breathing your lungs all along. And somehow... it has never forgotten how.
The hard worker was never who you were. It was simply who you believed yourself to be while those thoughts looked true.
And all the while, peace had been there.
Completely untouched by your success, your list of chores, or whatever your mind happens to be muttering about in the moment.
So you take another look out.
The future doesn’t even exist yet. And you are ready to step into it. The kitchen still needs tidying. Your tea, made several existential crises ago, has gone stone cold.
You drink it anyway.
Let’s look beyond your story
If you suspect the fear of what comes after success is the very thing holding you back from reaching it, reply directly to this email or use the message button below and we’ll set up a call together. It’s my treat.
P.S. If you want a deeper understanding of how to go beyond the story, I’ve put together a 9-page guide called What No One Ever Told Us. It’s a blueprint to uncovering and understanding what is really running the show, so you can use it in your daily life and find the effortless ease already sitting underneath the story. You can check it out here: