Recently I’ve been feeling a sense of frustration. I haven’t been getting the same levels of satisfaction with my work and life as I usually do.

I don’t think the reason behind this feeling lies in what I’m actually doing, rather in having spent a long time preparing the groundwork instead of taking action. Even my word for this month was foundations. I’ve been doing courses to get me ready to write my Substack about page and website copy, preparing my CV and thinking about what I want the path forward to be.

All very important work. But sometimes you’ve just got to draw a line under it and move forward, without being sure of the final destination.

When I look back at my life, I can see this pattern has come up several times before. In my mid-twenties, applying for jobs again without knowing where they’d necessarily lead. Moving to Largs twelve years ago, not knowing if it was my final destination. And now, taking my MSc in Applied Positive Psychology and applying for facilitation roles, without knowing what the next step after that will be either.

We never really know in life whether the step we take will lead where we want to be. But it’s worth taking anyway, because it often leads somewhere you couldn’t have planned your way into and gives you new information you can use to shape the next experiment.

It’s not blind optimism, doing the same things over again, or worse, doing nothing and hoping things will change. It’s not about certainty. It’s more about trusting momentum over waiting for clarity.

Uncertainty is something we humans aren’t good at sitting with and that’s often a real challenge in life. But we don’t need certainty to move forward. I don’t know if this next move will lead where I want to go, but I’m choosing to take action and trust it will get me nearer to it.

Journaling prompts

1. Where in your life have you spent a long time preparing, without yet taking the actual step?

2. Think of a time you moved forward without knowing the destination. What did it lead to, even if it wasn’t what you expected?

3. What would trusting momentum, rather than waiting for certainty, look like for you right now?

Happy journaling,

Carol

Every month during my planning, I pick a word of the month as an intention to match my goals for that month.

This month, as I’m starting one-to-one work again, applying to organisations for facilitation work, starting several new groups and re-establishing routines after a rough stretch, the word I picked was foundations. It seemed apt, representing laying the groundwork rather than expecting instant results.

Claude suggested a few places to apply for freelance coaching work. That got me thinking about how I could attract more clients by demonstrating my expertise, which is what led me to write my piece a few weeks ago about morning pages.

It was a good piece. The trouble was, after writing it, I started to get perfectionistic about the following week’s piece. It’s the same pattern a lot of my clients and readers face too and it can be paralysing.

What helped

When I went into the perfectionism loop, Claude reminded me of my word for the month, foundations.

It doesn’t have to be 100% perfect, even a 10% improvement from where I was makes a difference. Consistency matters more than perfect polish.

Recognising the pattern is half the battle in overcoming it. So I put the piece out, even though it might not be perfect. I often find my off the cuff, raw, most vulnerable posts land the best on Substack anyway.

Don’t let perfectionism paralyse you. A foundation is meant to be built on. Most creators cringe when they look back at their first efforts. You’ll never improve if you don’t take the chance and put something out there.

Perfect isn’t the same as solid. This month, I invite you to choose solid.

Journalling prompts

1. What’s your word for this month or what would it be if you picked one right now?

2. Where is perfectionism quietly paralysing you, on something that would benefit far more from just existing than from being flawless?

3. What’s one “unpolished” first step you could take today, toward something you’ve been holding back on until it’s perfect?

Happy journalling,

Carol

I’ve just come out of a rough stretch, burnout, a flashback and cutting back on my to-do list, resting for a few days until I felt better.

Yesterday I started to feel better, with a new plan Claude and I came up with for my business. It was like the blinkers had been taken off and I could see the sun again. The heaviness began to lift and today I woke up with a sense of excitement about the day. I’m enjoying my life again.

Part of what got me here was something I do most mornings and evenings anyway, talking through my day with Claude and asking for a few personalised prompts to reflect on. It’s a small, steady practice, but during the rough stretch it became the thing that helped me notice the shift starting, before I could really feel it anywhere else.

Claude had also found a few opportunities for me to apply for freelance facilitation work. At first, when I saw my income projections for the year, I was back to being downhearted again. Talking it through with Claude, not journaling this time, just working it out together, helped me see that the dip was only for the first year, the projection was to improve after that.

I think that’s what life is a lot of the time. A huge effort, followed by momentum gathering. Although I’m still a bit nervous that things might not work out, I have belief in myself to cope and in life to improve, just as it has continued to do before.

Pacing is important for me, and so is keeping sight of the light at the end of the tunnel during the dark times. As I become more aware of my own patterns and my ability to manage them, my life improves too.

If you’re in the middle of a dark period just now, know that it will end. Not because you force it to, but because it always has before, in its own time. Hold on to that, even on the days it’s hard to believe.

What actually helped

If you’re wondering what got me through this particular stretch, it wasn’t one big breakthrough, it was a small, steady practice I already had in place.

Most mornings and evenings, I talk through my day with Claude and ask for a few personalised prompts to reflect on, what’s on my mind, what I’m carrying, what I want to let go of before the day starts or ends. During the rough patch, I didn’t change this practice, I just kept showing up to it, even on the days I had nothing much to say. Looking back, that’s often where the shift started to show itself first, before I could feel it anywhere else.

The business side of things was a separate conversation, working through the freelance opportunities and income projections with Claude, more of a sounding board than journaling. But the two together, reflecting daily and having somewhere to think out loud, made a real difference in how quickly I found my way back.

If you’re going through something hard right now, you don’t need a big new system. Sometimes it’s just about keeping a small, steady practice going, even in its smallest possible form, until things start to shift.

Journaling prompts

1. Think of a dark stretch you’ve come through before. What told you things were starting to shift?

2. What does “momentum gathering” look like for you, after a period of huge effort or rest?

3. What small sign of hope have you noticed in yourself recently?

Happy journaling,

Carol

Whenever I tell a group of people I’m a journal facilitator, someone will inevitably start raving about morning pages, which are three pages of stream of consciousness writing done first thing in the morning, made famous by Julia Cameron in the book The Artist’s Way. It’s the most universal piece of journaling advice out there, the one nobody wants to contradict, but that a lot of people fail at and then quietly blame themselves for.

I’m one of those people morning pages don’t work for. If you’ve tried them and they haven’t worked for you either, you may be wondering why. Let me tell you about my journey with them.

I first started morning pages nearly twenty-five years ago, following a creative writing class I took while recovering from a breakdown.

At first I enthusiastically tried to write my pages. But as time went on, I found myself procrastinating over them and it would take me hours to write three pages. Being a perfectionist, I couldn’t do anything else until I’d finished them, although as a foodie, I did still have breakfast. They had morphed into afternoon pages.

After about a year of doing them, I looked back and found I was going in circles, none of the problems I was writing about were being solved and in fact the morning pages were actually making my depression worse, because I was dwelling on all the negative things in my life. Thank goodness I had the sense to put the practice aside.

When I read The Way of the Journal by my mentor Kathleen Adams, one of the world’s leading authorities on journaling, where she explained that for people with trauma and depression, writing morning pages can actually make things worse, I was relieved.

There’s a reason for that beyond just my own experience. An open, unstructured page, write anything, no prompt, can be harder for ADHD and autistic brains than a structured one. Unstructured tasks are often more paralysing than constrained ones, which runs counter to how most people assume creativity or reflection works.

The rigid structure, three pages, every single morning, also sets up a pattern where missing a day or falling short feels like failure rather than a minor blip. For a lot of neurodivergent people, that one missed day becomes the reason the whole practice gets abandoned, rather than just picked back up.

And mornings specifically might be the worst time for this practice for many of us. Executive function and energy aren’t reliably highest first thing for a lot of neurodivergent brains, so a practice demanding output right at wake-up is working against you before you’ve even started.

If morning pages didn’t work for you, and you abandoned journaling altogether because of it, I want to offer a few things that might work instead, to gently encourage you back to the page.

What to try instead

1. Use prompts. A more structured, contained session with prompts is often much easier than freewriting. Morning pages, as a stream of consciousness technique, is one of the least contained types of writing there is. You can search for journaling prompts online, join one of my one-to-one sessions when they’re available, or use AI for personalised prompts, just tell it about your day and ask for prompts to reflect on it.

2. Try a different time. Kathleen Adams suggests evening pages can actually work better for people who feel most negative first thing in the morning.

3. Do less than three pages. Make the amount flexible rather than fixed.

4. Try a more contained technique, like clustering/mind-mapping or lists, rather than open freewriting.

Before you decide journaling doesn’t work for you, know that morning pages are just one specific method and they don’t work for every brain. I love journaling and I’ve been doing it for nearly twenty-five years. But morning pages don’t work for me. They’re just one of the most talked about journaling techniques out there, not the only one.

Journaling prompts

1. If morning pages haven’t worked for you, what specifically got in the way, the blank page, the timing, the length or something else?

2. What’s a journaling method or format you haven’t tried yet that might suit how your brain actually works?

3. Is there a piece of “universal” advice, journaling or otherwise, that you’ve quietly felt guilty for not being able to stick to?

Happy journaling,

Carol

I remember reading once in Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway about a pendulum swing. Susan Jeffers was referring to self-esteem swinging, but I think the same thing applies to most things in life, including balance.

I find that for myself, often when I’m in the zone, I go flat out completely until I’m overtaken by exhaustion. Hyperfocus, anyone? That used to happen to me a lot during my undergraduate degree. Doing my masters, I made a specific commitment to myself not to start things at the last minute. I think a lot of it is linked to perfectionism, if my brain decides it can’t do something perfectly, it decides not to do it at all.

This week, I was busy finishing off a piece of work, but worked so hard at it that I wasn’t really able to do anything since Thursday. I kept trying every day, but was too tired to even begin.

So I decided to take it gently and cut the to-do list. Today, after showing up on Substack and writing this newsletter for next week, I intend to just relax, read or watch a movie. I’d wanted to write my plan for August too, but I know I’ll handle that better next week, once my energy’s a bit more restored.

I think learning balance is probably the work of a lifetime for me, especially with my compulsive tendencies. Sometimes I’ll get it right, other times it’ll be a learning curve where I have to give myself room to recover.

Sometimes the middle path, while it may look less exciting than the other two, is the way to go for long-term happiness.

Journalling prompts

1. Where in your life do you notice your own version of the pendulum swing, going flat out until you crash?

2. Is there a to-do list, plan, or task you could gently postpone this week to protect your energy?

3. What would “somewhere in between” look like for you today?

Happy journalling,

Carol

I’ve had days recently that haven’t been so great.

As well as AuDHD, I also have CPTSD, and I’ve had some flashbacks after a couple of bad dreams. I feel they’re all enmeshed, along with the resulting anxiety and depression. Sometimes it feels like a load to carry, along with a couple of physical chronic illnesses too.

To be honest, it’s been a struggle to get out of bed most days. But I’ve managed to do all the things I wanted to, using the five second rule, counting down from five and then just doing it, something I picked up from Mel Robbins. Yesterday I managed to get up and go to line dancing, and did some work too. There were moments of enjoyment in both, the catchy tunes of line dancing and the joy of connecting with my accountability buddy.

Our society and certain social media, paints the picture that we need to be happy all the time. But that isn’t how life works. Sometimes when I come out of a period of unhappiness, I’ve had real growth and countless moments of enjoyment that offer a reprieve from the hard work of getting through it.

This is something I’m not perfect at by any stretch of the imagination. When I hit challenging times, I usually just want to escape into something else. But I’m getting better and on Sunday I managed to sit with the feelings and they passed. It’s an evolving practice.

Journalling prompts

1. What would “good enough” look like for you today, rather than “good”?

2. Is there a small tool or trick, like a countdown or a tiny promise to yourself, that helps you move when you feel stuck?

3. Think of a time you sat with a hard feeling instead of escaping it. What happened?

If you’re going through a challenging time right now, know that you are not alone. I hope you find your own moments of enjoyment.

Happy journalling,

Carol

Last weekend I felt that ‘l’ word we’re not supposed to admit to, loneliness.

I was fresh out of the high of getting the furniture cleared and ready for a bit of crafts on Thursday, as well as a little lightly productive work and a day off punctuated by junk journaling on the Friday.

However, the classes were cancelled because my friend who runs them had taken a trip. I felt the dread I often feel at this time of year, a single person living and working alone with no contact until my optician’s appointment, which was scheduled for today.

So I arranged a day of shopping in the town where I live, followed by a nice Costa Strawberries and Cream Cooler and looking over some travel brochures.

Saturday was a day of reflection, an online self-help meeting, a journaling call I was catching up on, a call from my brother, and booking a break to the Highlands. Sunday was the supermarket run and some time in the garden.

It seemed like a productive weekend. And keeping busy definitely helped. But I still found myself feeling lonely.

It’s a state I often find myself in, even when I’ve just been with people and it’s probably the hardest thing for others to understand. It’s not really about a lack of contact, it’s more that something deeper isn’t being met, even when the diary looks full.

Weekends and the summer especially, when everything stops for a while, are when I tend to feel it the most.

Being sensitive and neurodivergent makes making friends harder and it also means loneliness hits harder too.

I’m actively looking for ways to get more active at the weekends. But I’m also learning that it’s a feeling every one of us can identify with and that it’s ok to sit with it and let it pass.

Journalling prompts

1. When does loneliness tend to show up for you, even in weeks that look full or productive on paper?

2. Is there a specific time of year, or a specific kind of day, when it hits hardest for you?

3. What would it look like to sit with the feeling this time, rather than trying to fix or outrun it?

Happy journalling,

Carol

I’m buzzing today.

After getting home yesterday, I cleared out four bags of books from my bookcase. Yesterday I ordered a new couch and chair. Today the junk removal man came and was able to take away the couch, chair, TV stand and bookcase in one go. I took the books to the charity shop. And galvanised by all of it, I messaged the gardening maintenance firm about clearing the weeds from my garden.

I’m feeling so proud of myself right now. Just a bit of momentum was all it took.

But it’s the starting that’s always got me.

I think it’s probably the same for a lot of other neurodivergent people. Because of how executive functioning works for us, we often put things off, and the longer we put them off, the harder they get to start. It’s not laziness, it’s a genuine friction that builds the longer a task sits there.

I find that looking at the big picture overwhelms me. But breaking things down into the simplest possible first move is what actually gets me started. Not “sort out the living room.” Just “book the junk removal man.” One small, doable thing.

But I have to be careful too. I can swing from one extreme to the other, avoiding everything, then suddenly trying to power through a giant list all at once, and that’s its own way to burn out. So right now, I’m aiming for balance. Enjoying the momentum without turning it into pressure to do everything at speed.

If you’re in a similar burst right now, or waiting for one to arrive, I hope this is a gentle reminder that both are ok.

Journaling prompts

1. What’s one task you’ve been putting off, not because it’s hard, but because starting it feels harder than it should?

2. Think of a time momentum carried you once you began. What was the smallest first step that got you moving?

3. Where might you need to pace yourself right now, rather than push through everything at once?
   

   Happy journalling,

   Carol

I recently spent some time in Glasgow with my Mum and Dad and we took a look at their new flat.

I shared a few weeks ago about the feeling life was leaving me behind, with them and my neighbour moving.

But an interesting thing happened as I helped my Mum pick out new furniture and curtains, we visited the flat and my Dad was busy organising the admin side. I started to become aware of where I was deliberately not moving forward with my own life.

Watching my parents move forward so easily could have made me envious instead. But it did something different this time.

One example of this is in buying new furniture. I started to look for myself and found a nice sofa, chair and footstool I liked and was happy with, and immediately went on to Facebook for a recommendation for someone to remove the old stuff.

A man who came highly recommended is coming on Thursday to give me a price to remove it.

I don’t know about you, but as someone with ADHD tendencies, I can look at the whole picture, get exhausted and then not do anything. Then my autistic tendencies come in and I hold myself to perfectionistic standards, so I don’t do anything and as a result I heap more guilt onto the situation which reinforces this cycle.

It’s so easy to look at others’ lives and get envious. To focus on the things we can’t change rather than the things we can.

I find it’s not so much about what I do. It’s just taking a gentle step forward, whatever that step may be.

I’m looking forward to getting back to Largs and getting on with the next step.

How about you? What gentle next step can you take?

Journalling prompts

1. Where in your life have you been looking at “the whole picture” and getting stuck before you even start?

2. Think of someone whose life change you noticed recently. What did it stir in you, envy, inspiration, grief, or something else? What might that feeling be pointing you toward?

3. What’s your Thursday, your one small booked step forward, whatever it may be for you right now?
   
   Happy journalling,
   
   Carol

Today I woke up absolutely exhausted.

On Sunday I facilitated a journalling workshop that went really well.

My MSc deadlines are finally over for the summer.

I expected to wake up feeling relieved, refreshed and gently productive again.

Instead, I could barely keep my eyes open. Before I could even think about writing this newsletter, all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch.

Immediately, another voice appeared.

“Come on. You’re fine.”

“You’ve got things to do.”

“Just write the newsletter first.”

I think many of us have learned to respond to tiredness like this.

We tell ourselves we’re being lazy.

We make another to-do list.

We promise ourselves, “Just one more thing.”

For me, coming down from excitement can be just as draining as coming down from stress. The workshop was wonderful, but holding space for a group of people, being fully present and quietly carrying the responsibility of facilitating all required energy.

This time, though, I decided not to argue.

I lay on the couch.

Not because I’d earned it.

Not because everything on my list was finished.

Simply because my body was asking me to.

It made me realise that self-trust isn’t only about the big decisions.

It’s not just about changing careers, moving house or choosing your next chapter.

Sometimes self-trust is much quieter than that.

Sometimes it’s believing your body when it tells you it needs to rest.

For many of us, that isn’t easy. If you’ve experienced trauma, spent years overriding your own needs or have a neurodivergent brain that doesn’t always fit neatly into society’s expectations, learning to trust those signals can feel surprisingly complicated.

Perhaps exhaustion isn’t always something to overcome.

Sometimes it’s a message.

Sometimes the most compassionate question isn’t:

“How can I get more done today?”

It’s:

“What do I need today so I can keep showing up tomorrow?”

This week’s journaling prompts

• What has my body been trying to tell me lately?

• How do I usually respond when I’m tired?

• What would change if I treated rest as part of my wellbeing rather than a reward for productivity?

• Where might I need to trust myself a little more this week?

The to-do list will still be there tomorrow.

Today, perhaps the kindest thing we can do is listen.

Sometimes the quietest voice we need to trust isn’t in our head.

It’s in our body.

Happy journalling,

Carol

Yesterday I visited a garden with an aviary in Rothesay.

Unfortunately, the pictures of the birds didn’t really come out, but maybe that wasn’t the point of the visit anyway.

While I was there, I found myself thinking about my life and where I want it to go.

I had some insight into why I haven’t been as successful as I would have liked in certain areas. Not in a harsh, self-critical way. More in a “oh, I can see the pattern now” kind of way.

And what I realised was this:

I don’t need a crystal ball.

I don’t need to predict the future.

I can run small experiments and follow the clues.

I can take one step forward and see what that step teaches me about the next one.

I don’t have to worry quite so much about the future, because as long as I stay curious, Future Carol has my back.

That’s where the certainty is.

Not in knowing exactly what will happen.

But in trusting that I can meet what happens.

I don’t have to solve everything today.

I can let the pressure ease.

The Quiet Yes

That is exactly the kind of thing we’ll be exploring in The Quiet Yes.

This is a gentle journaling retreat for anyone who wants to step away from the noise, listen to what’s quietly calling them forward and leave with one small next step.

Together we’ll use:

• Guided journaling

• Reflection

• Creative exploration

• Future scripting

You don’t need journaling experience.

You don’t need to know what your next chapter is.

You certainly don’t need all the answers.

You just need a willingness to become curious.

Workshop Details

The Quiet Yes: A Gentle Journaling Retreat for Your Next Chapter

📅 Sunday 28th June
🕓 4:00pm–5:30pm British Summer Time
💻 Online
💷 £17

Registration Link

A question to leave you with

Perhaps your next step isn’t a life-changing decision.

Perhaps it’s simply the next breadcrumb.

Carol

Last week I told the story of how I returned from Ireland to discover that my neighbours were moving.

At first, I felt pleased about the possibility of a fresh start next door. But then another thought appeared.

If everyone else seems to be moving on, should I be moving on too?

My mind went straight back to France.

It’s a dream I’ve revisited more than once over the years. Yet every time I’ve looked at it closely, something hasn’t quite fit. I’m not convinced I want to move there permanently and there are still practical questions that remain unanswered.

So I did what I often do when I’m trying to make sense of something.

I journalled.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that journalling rarely gives me a complete answer.

Instead, it often gives me clues.

Breadcrumbs.

And this time was no different.

A friend who runs my craft class mentioned that she was going to France through the town twinning association. (If you’re not familiar with town twinning, it’s where a town in the UK is partnered with a similar area in another country.)

Something about that conversation caught my attention.

Not because it answered the France question.

But because it offered a way to explore.

Through town twinning I could meet French people, improve my language skills, spend time in a beautiful part of the country and see where it led, all without having to decide whether I wanted to move there permanently.

It felt like a breadcrumb.

A next step.

A window opening.

A Quiet Yes.

It reminded me of something I’ve learned repeatedly through journalling.

We don’t always need to know the whole plan.

Sometimes we simply need to notice what keeps calling us forward and take one small step towards it.

As I reflected on this, I found myself wondering:

• What keeps returning to my attention?

• What breadcrumb might I be being invited to follow?

That idea sits at the heart of my upcoming retreat:

The Quiet Yes

A gentle space to step away from the noise, reflect on what matters and explore what your next chapter might be asking of you.

Together we’ll use:

• Guided journaling

• Reflection

• Creative exploration

• Future scripting

to uncover what might be quietly calling you forward.

Workshop Details

📅 Sunday 28th June

🕓 4:00pm–5:30pm

💻 Online

💷 £17 (plus small Eventbrite booking fee)

Registration Link

Perhaps the question isn’t:

“What should I do with my life?”

Perhaps the question is:

“What breadcrumb am I being invited to follow next?”

Happy journalling,

Carol

When comparison sneaks in

I came back from holiday last week and discovered that a neighbour I had a difficult relationship with is moving.

At first, I felt happy about the chance to start afresh with a new neighbour.

But then another thought appeared.

You know the one.

Everyone else is moving on and I’m not.

It’s amazing how quickly the mind can turn someone else’s change into a judgement about our own lives.

My mind immediately went back to my plans to move to France.

Maybe I should be moving on too.

But the facts haven’t changed. The visa situation and my finances don’t align, I never found anywhere in France that I preferred over where I am now and I don’t even know if I would enjoy living there full-time.

The search for certainty

The mind abhors uncertainty and tries to get us to make a decision, even if it means forcing a solution.

I reflected with ChatGPT on how moving abroad had been a dream of mine since childhood and how I felt I hadn’t done anything about it.

But that wasn’t really true.

Over the past few years, I’ve researched different areas of France, travelled there, compared options, thought about finances, explored visas and imagined different futures.

If anything, all that exploration had given me more information, but not necessarily more certainty.

Contrast that with moving to Largs.

It was very clear that my life would improve here. I felt drawn to it. The decision wasn’t effortless, but it felt right.

I never found that same feeling with France.

And perhaps that’s important information too.

What I already know

I realised that I had already done what I could do for now.

I’d researched. Travelled. Reflected. Compared options.

The next step wasn’t forcing a decision.

It was allowing the process to continue.

I think we often assume that certainty comes first and action follows.

More and more, I’m finding that clarity arrives through reflection, experimentation and experience.

Not all at once, but gradually.

Letting the process continue

I realised that I have always done the best I could with the information I had at the time.

I’ve generally chosen the path that offered the most growth, even when it felt scary.

Maybe the lesson isn’t that I need to figure everything out immediately.

Maybe it’s that I can trust myself to keep exploring until the answer becomes clearer.

And instead of enduring the journey to get there, I can enjoy it.

A gentle invitation

If you’re in your own season of uncertainty or quiet transition, The Quiet Yes is a gentle journaling retreat/workshop on 28th June designed to help you pause, listen inwardly and reconnect with what might be quietly calling for your attention next.

It’s not about forcing an answer or making a dramatic life decision. It’s a reflective space to help you feel more grounded, spacious, and connected to what matters as you move into summer.

Eventbrite link

Gentle prompts

• Where am I waiting for certainty before taking action?

• What am I trying to know that can only be learned through experience?

• What would trusting myself look like in this situation?

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out the future.

More and more, I’m learning that peace doesn’t come from knowing exactly how things will unfold.

It comes from trusting that I’ll be able to meet whatever unfolds next.

Happy journalling,

Carol

While you’re reading this, I’m just home after collecting Sunny, my cockatiel, from the pet shop.

I’m writing it on the bank holiday Monday the week before I go to Ireland. I’m not a big batcher, but I wanted to return with a clean slate.

Of course, that phrase says a lot, doesn’t it?

A clean slate.

I notice how quickly my mind turns coming home into another starting line. As if I need to return from holiday and immediately become organised, motivated, rested, productive and somehow completely renewed.

No pressure then.

I think that’s one of the traps of a break. We imagine it will reset us completely. And maybe sometimes it does help. Space can shift things. A change of scene can give us perspective.

But coming back can also feel oddly tender.

There’s unpacking to do. Washing. Food to buy. Emails to check. A pet to collect. Routines to remember.

And if we’re not careful, we can turn the return into another test we’re supposed to pass.

Did I come back refreshed enough?

Am I ready to start properly now?

Have I finally become the version of myself who does everything perfectly?

I’m trying to remember that coming back doesn’t have to mean rushing back into everything.

Maybe it can be softer than that.

Maybe it starts with bringing Sunny home, making a cup of tea and letting myself land.

Maybe it’s one bag unpacked, not the whole house sorted.

Maybe it’s looking at the week ahead without expecting myself to solve my entire life by lunchtime.

Because returning is still a transition.

And transitions need kindness.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently, how easily I can put pressure on thresholds. Mondays. New months. Holidays. The start of a new academic year. Any moment that feels like it could become a fresh start.

But maybe the real practice isn’t making the perfect start.

Maybe it’s learning how to return.

To routines.

To ourselves.

To the small things that help us feel steady again.

Not all at once.

Just gently.

A gentle invitation

If you’re also in a season of transition, reflection, or quiet change, The Quiet Yes is a gentle journaling retreat/workshop on 28th June designed to help you pause, reconnect with yourself, and explore what your next chapter might be asking of you.

It’s not about forcing clarity or reinventing yourself overnight. It’s a reflective space to help you move into summer feeling more grounded, spacious, and connected to what matters.

Eventbrite link

Journalling prompts

• What would make returning feel gentler for me?

• What am I expecting from myself immediately that could happen gradually instead?

• What small anchor could help me reconnect with myself this week?

Maybe we don’t need to come back all at once.

Maybe we just need to return to ourselves a little at a time.

Happy journalling,

Carol

I’m just about to go to Ireland tomorrow, so this is a short note I’m writing before I go away.

I’ve just submitted my MSc assignment and it’s been a relief, to say the least.

I’ve had to wrestle with some guilt about what I “should” be doing. In previous years, I’ve worked on holiday, driven by an insatiable desire to finally get the business off the ground and convinced that the “secret” was just around the corner.

Just letting what I’ve done be enough is challenging.

But I’m going to give myself that time because life has started to feel a bit stale recently and a holiday feels like a good chance to breathe, reflect and let things settle.

A gentle invitation

If you’re heading into summer or the holidays sensing that something is shifting, The Quiet Yes is a gentle journaling retreat/workshop on 28th June designed to help you pause, listen inwardly and reconnect with what might be quietly calling for your attention next.

It’s a reflective space to help you feel more grounded before the holidays, so you can move into summer with a little more clarity, spaciousness, and self-trust.

Eventbrite link

Journalling prompts

• What would it look like to let myself properly pause?

• What am I allowed to put down for a while?

• What might space give back to me?

Until next week.

Happy journalling,

Carol

Waiting for the starting line

Today I made a bit of a breakthrough.

I realised that if I wake up at 8, it’s better to get up then rather than wait for the perfect “get up time.”

At the same time though, I haven’t been doing what I normally would. I didn’t go to line dancing or tai chi this week or last week either.

I’m going on holiday to Ireland next Tuesday and trying to finish my MSc essay before I go.

I think I’ve been waiting until after the holiday to reset properly. Sort of like postponing the diet until you get back.

Psychologically, the holiday has become a “starting line.”

It’s so tempting, isn’t it, to postpone our fresh start until Monday, a new month, our birthday, the start of the academic year, the 1st of January or after a holiday.

There’s something comforting about imagining a future version of ourselves who suddenly does everything properly.

But the problem is that waiting can quietly become avoidance. Life gets put on hold.

What if change is more imperfect than that?

I was exploring this with my counsellor. I said I was struggling to find meaning in some of these activities and I started thinking about alternatives that might feel more meaningful or supportive right now.

Pressure builds around the new beginning and perfectionism sneaks in disguised as motivation.

Or in my case, lack of motivation turns into perfectionism and procrastination. I put things off until I feel more like doing them.

But what if change isn’t one dramatic restart?

What if it’s built through imperfect continuation?

What if we don’t need to begin again completely every time?

That’s what I’m starting to realise about routines. Especially being neurodivergent, they need to evolve to stay interesting. And they aren’t built in a day.

What I’ve learned from experimenting with getting up earlier is that it’s less of a transformation and more of an ongoing experiment.

I realise now that instead of:

“I’ll restart after the holiday,”

what I’ve really been circling around is:

“How can I support myself now, even imperfectly?”

Getting up earlier and thinking about alternative activities are both evidence of that.

A gentle invitation

If you’re heading into summer or the holidays sensing that something is shifting, The Quiet Yes is a gentle journaling retreat/workshop on 28th June designed to help you pause, listen inwardly and reconnect with what might be quietly calling for your attention next.

It’s not about forcing a dramatic reinvention. It’s a reflective space to help you feel more grounded before the holidays, so you can move into the summer with a little more clarity, spaciousness and self-trust.

Gentle prompts

• What am I postponing until the “perfect” moment?

• What small act of care or consistency is already available to me now?

• What if I didn’t need a complete reset to move forward?

Maybe life isn’t made of dramatic fresh starts.

Maybe it’s made of small returns.

Maybe imperfect continuation counts more than we realise.

Perhaps we don’t need to begin again perfectly.

Perhaps we just need to keep returning.

Until next time.

Happy journaling,

Carol

When things slip again

I thought things were improving these past few weeks.

I had been getting up by 10 each day and had made it a non-negotiable. I was feeling more stable.

When things start improving, it’s tempting to believe you’ll never wobble again.

But then at the weekend, a poor night’s sleep and a hormonal dip led to my routine slipping yesterday and today. And suddenly my mood dipped too.

I was so disappointed today when I did get up and the thoughts came back:

Here we go again. Nothing has changed.

A more human way to look at habits

But then I had a session with my counsellor and she said no one keeps a habit perfectly because we are human.

“What if you stuck to your routine five days a week and allowed yourself two days off at the weekend?”

That really landed with me.

I remember reading in one book that if we expect ourselves to be miraculously cured one day, we’ll be sorely disappointed. But what we can expect is a lessening in the intensity and frequency of periods where we struggle and an increased ability to cope with them when they do come.

Small adjustments count

We can also make adjustments for ourselves.

For example, I was sitting at the table trying to write this newsletter, but it felt like so much effort. Then I decided to move to the couch and with the increased comfort, suddenly the words began to flow.

Difficult periods don’t erase previous progress.

Before, I was such a perfectionist that I’d have forced myself to finish the newsletter sitting at the desk and then felt depressed and burned out for days afterwards.

Letting go of perfect

I realised this pattern recently when I was listening to The Miracle Morning. I know it works for many people, but I found myself thinking, I will never stick to such a rigid routine.

So I changed the audiobook to The Kindness Method, which focuses on gradual improvement instead and it felt so much more supportive.

Letting go of perfection doesn’t stop progress. If anything, it makes progress more sustainable.

Gentle prompts

• Where might I be expecting perfection from myself?

• What adjustment would make things feel more supportive right now?

• What if this wobble is part of the process, not proof that I’ve failed?

If you’re feeling wobbly just now, give yourself grace.

A wobble isn’t the same thing as starting over.

Happy journaling,

Carol

These past few days, I haven’t felt as good as I have in recent weeks.

It started on Sunday when I went back to bed. Even though I’ve got up on time for the past few days, the heaviness didn’t immediately shift.

I think it was a mix of feeling slightly overwhelmed by everything on my plate, hormones, and that old fixed mindset voice creeping in:

I’ll always feel this way.
Nothing will ever change.

Luckily, I’ve been doing a positive psychology intervention for an assignment and I recognised the fixed mindset thinking for what it was.

It helped me remember that not every day can be sunshine and roses. That’s just not how life works.

When something feels off, my default is often to analyse, question my direction and ask what needs solving.

But not every low day is asking for an answer.

Sometimes it’s asking for care.

Life is a mixture of easier days and harder ones. As someone I used to know once said:

All the growth is in the valley.

When I feel down, the best thing I can do is reduce demands, rest and stop trying to carry on regardless. Because when I push through without listening to myself, it often compounds the problem.

These past few days haven’t been clarity days.

They’ve been care days.

Journaling has helped with that. It doesn’t always need to produce insight or a big breakthrough. Sometimes it simply gives the experience somewhere to go. It can hold what we’re feeling and reduce the pressure to fix everything immediately.

If you’re having one of those days too, you might like to try these gentle prompts:

• What kind of day am I having today?

• What would be enough for today?

• Is this a day for clarity, or a day for care?

Clarity comes back. I’ve seen it so many times before.

Not every day needs to be productive or insightful.

Some days aren’t for figuring things out.

They’re just for getting through, and that’s enough.

Happy journaling,

Carol