I grew up with the phrase 'pride comes before a fall'. It would come back to me if I felt too pleased with myself and made me cautious to celebrate achievement. What if I came across as boastful? What if I was too proud? Would the fall be bigger if I was REALLY proud? This time five years ago, I was overwhelmed with this life of mine, and headed into burnout. I had a toxic workplace and felt unable to keep up with the demands at home, I was stressed and overloaded. This time one year ago I was unemployed, and the state had decided it had supported me long enough. I was unsure of where my future led, heading into trying to make coaching work at the same time as keeping Madame Papillon, a project I had been working on since 2020 and which became an official association in 2022, developing and moving forward. I was much more sure of who I was and what I wanted but I was not settled or sure of the path forward. Now, at the end of 2024, I am coming to the end of a tempo...
It took me four years to consider going back to an office job. Building up an association had been new, meaningful, and something I could do at my own pace, surrounded by friends and supporters. Once my fried brain had rebuilt itself, once my fragile nervous systems had regained some resilience, once my exercise and wellbeing routines had been established, and (let's face it) when my last savings had gone and the Belgian state was no longer willing to support me, that's when I went back. I was worried though. That final, decisive driving factor had been financial. Taking the development of the association at my own pace had meant slow but steady growth of the membership - their fees were enough to cover costs, but my work was voluntary. And it was work, not 'work'. I'd learned so much over those four years, about myself, about burnout, about Brussels beyond the bubble. I'd learned about my values and behaviour patterns, not least through my coaching training, a...
A few days ago, Molly, already in a state of some annoyance, saw Louise eating Easter chocolate, got to her feet and shouted. ‘Hey! That’s my chocolate you’re eating!’ Louise, a look of terror on her face, tried to defend herself. ‘I didn’t know! It was in the box, it’s my box!’ The two boxes were very similar. It was an easy mistake. Molly stormed about, slamming things and muttering about how she didn’t like other people touching her belongings, especially food! I put my arm around Louise and looked into her teary face. ‘You made a mistake. It’s not so terrible.’ ‘But Molly’s cross’ she said, her eyes wide and worried. I put extra effort into supporting Molly in the following couple of days. After a period of relative calm she had a couple of meltdowns and I tried different approaches, trying to be patient and understanding, but also losing my cool on occasion. It ended each time in a heart to heart cuddle on the sofa. The second time I got a note explaining what had prompted th...
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