The point about postponing ourselves is based on the writings of Seneca, specifically a letter he wrote to a friend in which he asked why his friend spent so much time doing things he disliked for the purpose of one day enjoying the things he liked. In essence, postponing himself or his life. It’s an interesting question, and one that has given me pause for thought. Because I, like so many others, postponed myself. I did a job I disliked to pay the bills for the things society demands I should have whilst all the while thinking that ‘one day’ I would have the opportunity to be a writer and coach full-time. I mean what is the alternative? Who blows up their life to stop doing what they dislike in order to do what they like with little or no safety net? Well, me as it turns out. And I would and would not recommend it.
In July 2023, I was made redundant from my job. I got a pay-off, of course, and while I had known this was coming for around six months (as the CEO it had been my decision basically), I had done nothing strenuous about finding another, similar, job. For the simple reason, I had hated my job in the end. That isn’t why I closed the economic agency, we had become victims of a number of government decisions essentially and hadn’t been allowed the time to claw our way out. But, while I was upset for my staff, I personally was not heartbroken. Not because I had a savings pile or investments or a wealthy husband to fall back on, far from it. But because it gave me the time to do what I had really wanted to do – write and coach. While I had my redundancy money, life was great. I was walking the dog every day and loving it, we were all eating tremendously healthily because I had the time to cook the meals and follow a particular programme, I was writing and I was revisiting my coaching training to brush up on my skills. And all the bills were being paid. Until they weren’t when I ran out of money.
It was devastating, I can tell you. Utterly and completely devastating. I was at the mercy of handouts from my parents and father-in-law, which was difficult and humiliating if I’m honest. But what I did have by the bucket-load was pride. Far, far too much of it. I wouldn’t sign on for benefits because…well, people like me just don’t. That was an admission of failure, right? I was too proud. I was also too proud to admit to others what had happened and I buried my head in the sand. Yes, I was still writing and my book was almost finished but I couldn’t work out how to get my coaching off the ground. I was promised work from a friend, lucrative work, but in the end she took it all for herself and the money I was anticipating from that just didn’t materialise. That made me spiral somewhat. During this time, I was sometimes suicidal (never said that anywhere other than in my head) and I could not see a way forward. Yes, I did apply for jobs but always unsuccessfully. I wasn’t postponing my life any longer, I was doing what I had always wanted to do, but in blowing up my life in the way I had, I certainly wasn’t enjoying it. Eventually, all the trappings of the executive salary started to fall away. The high end car had to go, I simply couldn’t afford to keep it running. My son’s private school had to go for the same reasons, and that has broken my heart. Interestingly, though, not his. All the trappings of a good salary, disappeared and I felt its loss keenly. But I still believed in what I was doing, in my writing and coaching. I just needed to understand how to move forward.
The lesson I was learning in all of this was humility. I had had a difficult financial childhood after my natural father left. My mother and I struggled which meant we drove a rubbish car and I didn’t wear the designer clothes that were all the fashion in 1980’s England, but all my friends did. I was bullied at school and I was struggling with the ramifications of my father’s utter abandonment of me. All of this instilled in my subconscious that that was never going to happen to my child. That I would have all the trappings – the large house, the nice car, the career, and never have to worry. If that meant suppressing my desires then so be it. That’s what I would do. And I did. For many years. The glimmer of who I really was raised its head at university where I loved the learning and the writing. I excelled and I was happy there. But, my subconscious reminded me, an academic life was not one of all the material things I had wanted. So, I embarked on my career. I earned great money, I did a good job and I accumulated all the ‘things’. But it was built on shifting sand because I wasn’t committed to it as much as some of my now ex-colleagues who truly made a career out of it. Who saw the path before them and followed it dedicatedly. That wasn’t me. I was like a magpie, following the shiny things. It’s that old school report saying ‘never reached her full potential’. I didn’t because I couldn’t maintain the drive, it just all seemed so ridiculous. Dealing with all those egos, smiling and nodding along to insane suggestions, playing the corporate game. Not my bag. Then the sands shifted even more because I married a man who doesn’t contribute financially at all. He works, yes, but he has always seen his salary as his and mine as providing him with luxuries. I didn’t realise that until recently because I didn’t have to. I earned enough for us both and to pay for all the ‘stuff’ that my son doesn’t even want, but which meant I ‘kept up with the Joneses’. I didn’t want my son to feel the hurt I had not thinking that I had just had the bad luck to be surrounded by some particularly vicious girls, and he wasn’t. I’m not even sure most of this was a conscious act, it was entirely subconscious except for that occasional nagging voice saying ‘what the hell are you doing?’.
I was postponing myself. I kept on thinking that ‘one day’ I would be able to launch a coaching business. I hadn’t even allowed my writing to come out of the deep freeze I had placed it in yet. I was doing everything I hated first, and what I wanted either last or not at all. I wasn’t moving myself forward, I wasn’t fulfilling my potential and I certainly wasn’t living my purpose. I kept telling myself I was, that we helped people through job creation and skills programmes and business support, but the amount of people we truly helped was, I suspect, minimal. I had the passion and the drive to help people, it was something I truly have always wanted to do. I was just pointing myself in the wrong direction for it. And through all of this, I have learned huge lessons in humility. I work as a cleaner and I know now what it is to eat the food you can afford which isn’t always the greatest for your health. I know what it is to not have the money for dinner that night and rummaging around in the cupboards to rustle something up. To have exhausted the supplies in the freezer and know that you can’t replace them easily anymore. To think that the supermarket you were embarrassed to shop in (Tesco, because all your peers were shopping in the farm shops or Waitrose) was now too expensive, and you were shopping in the bargain places. To have the clothes in the supermarkets be a luxury. Oh, I have learned humility. I also know what it’s like to be on benefits. I am tremendously grateful for them, but I am so glad I work as well because that salvages some self-esteem. It’s been less than six months on them, but I am getting back onto some form of financial footing. Though the debts are horrendous. They scare me, but I will overcome them. I will repay them, I am determined to give everyone their money back, including the large corporations who have been more sympathetic and empathetic than a lot of family members. I have learned who my friends are – and aren’t – and that is one of the most valuable lessons. I’ve always been a people pleaser, but it is satisfying to not be that person anymore.
So, what is my point? Well, I truly do not think I would be writing and starting my coaching if I hadn’t blown my life up. I would still be thinking ‘one day’. I still believe passionately in what I am doing, perhaps even more now than in 2023. I have written two books and am a quarter of the way through the third of my trilogy. I have started a YouTube channel for coaching and had some comments just last night from someone who is glad I am posting the content I am. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. I have been on an intense spiritual journey as well, and I have changed as a person. None of my old pastimes appeal to me anymore. The thought of returning to an office and working for someone else even if that is a Board fills me with horror. That part of me is gone. The thought of having the large mansion I always wanted so people would gasp when they saw my home, is gone. We currently live in a large farmhouse we cannot afford, with an acre garden we have never really used to its full potential and don’t have the energy to deal with, nor the money for the gardener. But it was a status thing for me when inviting my son’s friends and parents round. I don’t care about that anymore, for sure. I want a nice, luxurious home because I enjoy that, yes. But I’m fully aware now of the type I want and it is pretty ordinary, and most certainly does not have a large garden. And I am very happy with that. I am not even that fussy about the car I drive as long as it can cope with the rare snowfall we get given I live in a rural area and the authorities always seem to be taken by surprise by snow! My son wants to attend a particular private school because of its art department and its rugby reputation, and he will go to that school. I will make that happen, but we will not be keeping up with the Joneses. We will simply be us.
This feels like a long-winded way of saying – don’t postpone your life. Figure out what you truly want to be/do/have, and make it your priority every day to achieve that. If it means getting up earlier in the morning to take those actions towards what it is you want, do it. The alternatives are to blow up your life as I have – not recommended – though I feel that calmer waters are very close now. Or always postponing your life. We aren’t guaranteed a long life. We aren’t even guaranteed making it to retirement age, and even if we do we aren’t guaranteed great health when we get there. Can you imagine? Postponing your life for all those years only to find you can’t do all the things you wanted to do because you did postpone your life. It happened to my grandfather, he died before he even got to draw his pension and spend that quality time with my grandmother and do his garden how he wanted to.
So, don’t postpone your life. Just perhaps be a bit more sensible about that than I have been! Oh, and all my staff secured alternative employment very quickly I am hugely pleased to say.
Louisa Simpson 