Living on Someday Island feels good. It feels really good.
What’s Someday Island? Well, it’s a place I borrowed from my friend and fantastic Life Coach Patricia, who has a true vocation for helping women find and listen to their inner voice.
I met Patricia in March 2014, when I started my new job in a brand new company. I spent just over 2 years being an employee there, but they weren’t the most straightforward.
3 weeks into my brand new job, with a brand new manager who had entrusted me with this vacant position in her team, I had to tell her that I was pregnant.
5 months later, I was saying goodbye / see-you-in-one-year to all the colleagues and friends I had just made.
Babies and builders
My third son was born, and we spent the first 6 months or so trying to adjust to life with a child in Year 1, a sweet, busy 3-year-old who loved being at home with Mamma all day, and a new (thankfully quite chilled) baby.
Then it was time to rock our lives a bit more, as with a new baby and clearly not enough on our hands, we started a big house renovation project.
The chickenpox struck in the middle of it all, and things got just a tiny bit crazy.
Returning to work
Until the dust settled again.
House project was completed, baby now one year old, and the time came for the dreaded return to work. We decided on a nanny who would help with the logistics of dropping the older two to school (and school nursery) and would then spend the day with the little brother.
I decided to return to work 3 days a week. This would allow me to spend the mornings with The Little Guy, the early afternoons with The Middle Guy and off to sports with The Big Guy after school pick up.
It all worked ok for a while. We all got used to the new routine, but I was always exhausted. Armed with a Fitbit I soon realised I was easily clocking over 10,000 steps on a work day and about 17,000 on a day at home with the children.
I was always on the back foot. Always late. Always rushing.
I’d be home from work slightly late, with The Little Guy wanting to pin me down on the sofa for milk and cuddles, The Middle Guy wanting to play sports, and The Big Guy not yet home from his after-school lessons.
The Husband would often get home, and no one had been fed. Let alone that, there was no food made either.
Bed times were always, inevitably late. Followed by a round of clearing the kitchen, tidying up and getting everyone’s things ready for the next day.
It was manic. It was mental. It just wasn’t sustainable.
In the meantime at work…
Thankfully there were people at work who I could talk to about this.
I wasn’t the same person I used to be. I couldn’t just think about work all the time. I was mentally exhausted by everything else that was going on at home and around me. I wasn’t enjoying it. I wasn’t ‘feeling it’.
One day, Someday, I’d love to be able to work from home, 5 days a week. I’d love to be able to work around the children. Be there to drop them off at school. Be there to pick them up. Be there to support their after-school activities without having to choose which child gets to do what and when because Mamma has to be in the office. An office that’s over an hour away and forces Mamma to be out of the house for 10 hours a day.
One day, Someday, I’d like to write. I was almost too embarrassed to say it out loud. But when I started saying it out loud it didn’t sound that impossible anymore. “I know I have a book in me. I just don’t know what it is yet”, I’d say.
The Universe stuck its nose in it
After my bus accident, I realised how manic life really was. Almost by chance, and with completely different intentions, I was lucky enough to have a meeting with a Life Coach at work, and things were never really quite the same since.
Things had to change.
Something had to give.
I wasn’t winning.
Perhaps on paper it looked like I was, but I didn’t feel like I was winning at all. The feeling of ‘having it together’ was slowly abandoning me.
The decision to leave
After a lot of soul-searching and looking at the situation as logically as I could, with the help of The Husband and my friends at work, it was clear that something had to give. And that something, for now, was my job.
It wasn’t easy.
Insecurity and self-doubt crept in, and it took me (a very logical thinker) a long time (about 3 months) to finally see that it was the right decision.
My inner voice was shouting at me by now. I had other ideas. I felt like my path was elsewhere.
It feels good to be on Someday Island
The road to get here was a bit bumpy. I never even finished my notice period at work (or got to say a proper goodbye to my friends) – I had an unlucky fall, broke my leg, and couldn’t walk and was forced to really slow down (or, rather, stop) and adjust for a few months.
But this blog was born as a result.
And now I’m on Someday Island.
I am at home with my children. I drop them off to school, and I pick them up. I spend time at home with The Little Guy while he’s still too small to go to school. I am here for them after school.
And when I can, I write.
It’s not at the pace that I want it to be, but nearly 5 months in, I have learnt and done a great deal. Someday Island isn’t Someday anymore. It’s now.
And the book I had in me came to me, and it’s (very) slowly but surely being written.
Please think about my story. Think about my friend Patricia’s too.
And think about YOUR Someday Island. Go for it.