In first few months after coming out as a lesbian, my work as a freelance writer and writing group facilitator was something to lean on when everything stable in my life had disappeared. My husband, our home, and the certainty about our future together had been destroyed. I moved back into my parents’ house, grateful for the rent-free living, yet stifled by a routine that was not my own, and desperate for a sense of direction when both my identity and path forward seemed like anybody’s guess.

Impossibly tall tenement rooms held the void of my future in their corners. Painted-shut windows wore the mould of outdated identities

Those early months were saturated in the kind of unpredictable grief that spilled out at the seams. Long voice notes to friends, pages and pages of journaling late at night. But work was a tonic, a reason to get out of bed, and a way to create financial building blocks for the future. I was helping people – hosting writing groups multiple times a week, holding space for connection and creative confidence was something that seemed like it should be fulfilling. So I kept doing it.

But still, something in me wasn’t OK, and I knew I needed more space to process and I needed it sharpish. I scoured ads on spareroom.com and moved into a room of my own a few weeks later. The rent was the cheapest I could find, and although there was some fear around being solely responsible for my own bills, I’d been earning consistent wages through my business for six years or so, and figured it would probably all work out fine.

Opening up to grief

The rumblings of a dissatisfaction with my work were amplified in the space. Impossibly tall tenement rooms held the void of my future in their corners. Painted-shut windows wore the mould of outdated identities. I liked to lie in bed because I could still see the trees from the window as I wept and wondered what would become of me. I moved in during the summer, and watched the summer leaves, jealous of their joy, from underneath secondhand sheets in another not-quite-mine kind of a room.

Tracing familiar steps from between the bedroom and the fridge, I worked with my MacBook propped up on my lap in bed, finding comfort in the hidden-away nature of my existence. Even when I was struggling, I worked hard on my business, chasing pitches, writing articles, and hyping myself up to mentor clients. Maybe I didn’t work in the ways that I used to, but I did so in the ways that grief allowed.

As autumn approached, I found a local poetry course to take part in. The creativity felt like a hopeful avenue for healing, perhaps even a boost of motivation to work a little differently? But as the leaves turned from green, to yellow, to fiery red, the catharsis of free verse opened up long-forgotten wounds, drew circles around my biggest fears, and zoomed in on my shadows in a way that was difficult to withstand. Vulnerability in writing has always been my strength. Previously, it was the safest place for me to tell the truth, because it gave me a chance to let my thoughts bloom fully and petter out naturally. But now, the truth was painful and hard to witness.

Fear of being uninspiring

As my tenderness towards the truth increased, my income plumetted. The optimistic, inspiring social media posts that had once led my online courses to sell-out in just a few days, weren’t coming naturally. In fact, they weren’t coming at all. I resented the implicit need to alchemise my life into marketing emails, to continually feed the algorithm with scroll-stopping hooks and calls to action. Yet the more I resisted, the more I noticed my bank balance dwindling.

The task of portraying myself online to make ends meet became tedious, bordering on self-betrayal. There were no inspiring tales to tell. It seemed that all my writing was dark, complicated, and worryingly contradictory to the ‘me’ that appeared in my books, the ‘me’ that clients had been used to working with. Sharing my emotional landscape online had once felt empowering, but now, it felt like career suicide. Even if people did genuinely want to know the inner workings of my mind, I was in no place to articulate them without falling apart.

When you take off the mask that made people like you, there’s a chance you’ll be left to fend for yourself.

So, as another low balance alert pinged on my phone, I did what I’ve always done. I assumed that I was the problem. I moved further and further away from the truth about the my unnamable grief and looked for ways to maintain the facade of palatability. Instead of the confessional emails I was known for, I bought marketing templates. On good days, I recycled old posts. On bad days, I asked ChatGPT to write them. None of it worked.

Unsurprisingly, this attempt to pass as emotionally stable didn’t work. Christmas brought with it one last-ditch attempt at an online writing group that I could only facilitate in the knowledge that it would be done entirely via email, without having to appear on camera. Several people took part and said positive things, but I was mentally absent from the process. In the New Year, I moved back in with my parents, yet again, to regroup.

Letting go of the perception of success

My business was not a victim in all of this. My business could have recovered; but not with me at the helm, that was clear. So I decided to start applying for jobs, which resulted in quite a few potential employers looking at my with confusion. Like one guy who literally scratched his head when he realised I was a published author applying for a social media role at a coffee company; another asked me how much I earned from my books; another curious as to why I was applying for such a ‘junior’ position. How could I tell them that the self-assured person who achieved all the successes on my CV was dead? How to explain that my career hinged on writing about myself, but that my reflection had become so distorted that there was no other option than to try writing about coffee as a way to escape my own grief?

Working in traditional employment had always felt like self-abandonment to me, even if I couldn’t see it at the time. Being self-employed, having autonomy over my projects, my schedule, my rates, that was self-reclamation. But now, opening up another rejection email was a reminder when you take off the mask that made people like you, there’s a chance you’ll be left to fend for yourself.

After almost six months of doing nothing other than apply for jobs and attend interviews, I was finally offered a year-long contract as Features Editor. Answering that phone call was what I imagine it must be like to win the lottery, except the cheque is just a year-long opportunity to remove the mask of performed happiness without getting into mountains to debt in the process. A year off from selling a product that is wrapped up in my identity, a year off from selling myself as part of my work, a year to redefine the boundaries of where my business ends and I begin.

This isn’t to say business owners can’t create space to work and grieve simultaneously. This isn’t to say that work is essential to recovery. It’s just that grief is an unpredictable shadow that follows us all in some shape or form, and how we learn to cope with that is unique to each of us. Having control over my work life used to soothe me, but after about 6 weeks of being in regular employment again, my nervous system responded and began to settle for the first time in years.

I’m an over-sharer and will always write about myself, but this portion of my life – the liminal aftermath of shattering who I am and not knowing what comes next – has been far too tender to unravel in realtime. And working within the reliable structure of a 9-5 job with a regular pay check every month, alongside the symbolic letting go of the obligation to write about my life on a public scale formed the beginning of a kind of healing for me. Will I share the lessons learned from this period? I’m not sure, but I know that writing this piece has been therapeutic, so it seems that baby steps are forming, although I’m taking it at my own pace.

A few years ago, I was entirely convinced that being a company of one was a cornerstone of my identity, that being self-employed was an essential aspect of what it means to be ‘me’. But life can surprise us, and perhaps that version of ‘me’ is the thing I’m grieving for today. May she rest in peace.

The post Being the face of my business made it impossible to grieve appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

Hourly rates

When I first started charging an hourly rate, I didn’t think very much of myself. I’d been making sandwiches for a living for a few years and scraping by on £7 per hour and free food and coffees to make the day feel a little less dreary. So when I had to come up with a figure to charge for my services, I didn’t feel worthy of asking for very much at all. I charged £10 per hour.

Several years later I upped that to £20 per hour, and I’ve increased it yet again since then. I did some research into what other people were charging and also thought about how much I would realistically like to earn every month.

Watch this Instagram video to learn more tips on how to set your freelance rates.

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A post shared by Fiona Thomas Writer & Author (@fionalikestoblog)

Say for example you want to earn £3,000 per month. Great, now how many hours would you like to work in that month? If the answer is 120 hours (thirty hours per week), then you would need to charge £25 per hour. (Bear in mind that this is all before tax, so you would lose a certain percentage of this to the government.)

Consider your capacity

Instead of working backward thinking about hours worked, maybe consider how many days you would like to work, or how many clients you can comfortably work with, or how many products you would need to sell to make up that income.

Remember that just because the typical working week consists of five days this doesn’t necessarily mean you can dedicate five days to doing paid work. You’ll need time to do the work that doesn’t pay (in a direct sense anyway) such as sending invoices, implementing marketing campaigns, meeting with potential clients, etc.

As a rule of thumb, I would assume that at least one day a week will be required for various freelancer-related tasks and then take it from there.

Do your research

TIP: Talk to other freelancers and ask if they would give you a ballpark figure about what they charge. Do this with lots of people, not just one or two, because the chances are that they could be under or over-charging for their services! When I increased my rates recently, I asked for input in a freelancer Facebook group and people were more than happy to tell me their hourly rate.

Learn more from my book Out of Office: Ditch the 9-5 and Be Your Own Boss.

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I’m pretty chuffed to announce I’ve been shortlisted for an award (!!) for my book, Out of Office: Ditch the 9-5 and Be Your Own Boss – can I get a whoop whoop?

Taking place at a fancy virtual awards ceremony on Tuesday 25th May, The Business Book Awards 2021 celebrates thought-leadership in business. The very fact I’m shortlisted as a thought-leader is enough to quite literally rock my world, and to have Out of Office recognised as an industry-approved guide for freelancers to help you navigate the highs and lows of quitting the office for good means so much.

I’m nominated alongside some stellar books in the ‘Start up/Scale up’ category, and you can find Out of Office sitting comfortably alongside the likes of Boss It: Control Your Time, Your Income and Your Life by Carl Reader and Investor Ready: The guide for start-ups on getting investors to say YES by Julie Barber. Quite the bookshelf, if I do say so myself.

The Business Book Awards 2021 celebrates the industry-leading tomes that inspire the business world each year. Recognising books that have shaped understanding on all aspects of the business world – to name but a few: sales & marketing; HR & management; diversity, inclusion & equality; change & sustainability – it’s an honour to be amongst such wonderful company.

Joining me (in my pjs, on Zoom, most likely) and the nominated authors on the fancy awards evening in May will be an incredible judging panel that includes leaders in business and the most in-the-know in publishing. Head Judge, Alison Jones, is the founder of Practical Inspiration Publishing and author of This Book Means Business. She has 25 years of experience in the publishing and business industries, and has joined forces with a roster of other incredible leaders in the business world to judge yours truly. It’s set to be an exciting night.

See you at the virtual awards ceremony on Tuesday 25th May 2021!

Fancy writing your own business book? Listen to this episode of the Out of Office podcast.

The post Out of Office shortlisted in the Business Book Awards 2021 appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

 

Have you ever wanted to start your own business? Has working from home given you a taste for freelancing?

 

Join me and my very special guest for an evening of honest conversation where you’ll learn what to expect from the world of self-employment. To celebrate the launch of Out of Office, I’m hosting a virtual launch with the lovely Sara Tasker.

Together, we will delve into our own experiences with traditional employment versus the world of freelancing, to answer the question – should you ditch the 9-5 and be your own boss?

I’m obviously pretty gutted that we can’t have a real life book launch. I was very much looking forward to picking out an outfit, hugging all my friends and signing real books in Waterstones like I did for my first book. But I’ll be honest, there’s an undeniable perk of getting to celebrate publication day at home sat in my comfies!

 

Snap a ticket up here, for the event that takes place on Thursday 1st October at 6pm.

 

More about us:

Sara Tasker is part writer, part photographer, part coach. Her bestselling book Hashtag Authentic distills everything she’s learned from running her hugely successful Instagram account (@meandorla) and encourages everyone to live a more creative life.

Fiona Thomas is a mental health writer and two-time author. Her new book Out of Office: Ditch the 9-5 and Be Your Own Boss offers a practical guide for freelancers.

The post Join me and Sara Tasker to celebrate the launch of my new book ‘Out of Office’ appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

The post Episode 3: Finding direction when you hate your job appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

I absolutely love being a freelancer, but routine has never been one of my strengths.

I feel really proud when I get to introduce myself as a full-time writer, and I actively encourage others to pursue their dream of being self-employed because I think it can be incredibly fulfilling in a number of ways.

Truthfully though, I felt backed into a corner to become freelancer because of my mental health.

I’d been juggling depression, anxiety, waitressing and blogging for a few years and eventually it all became too much. I realised that I would have to give something up so I took a leap of faith and jumped into freelancing.

I still don’t make enough money as I would like, but I have something much more valuable to me and thats flexibility.

With that in mind-  and over a year’s worth of trial and error in the bank – I thought I would share my tips on how to create a freelancer schedule that works if you have depression.

Make shorter to-do lists

Hands up if your daily to-do list spans several pages?

Take it back to basics and only write 3 things on your to-do list every day. It means you will never get overwhelmed and you’ll almost certainly get them all done, leaving time at the end of the day to pick up extra tasks

Figure out your pattern

Before you can create a schedule you need to figure out what times of day, week, month are most productive for you. Admittedly, this will take you a while to pin down. I advise that you start by tracking your moods over the course of a month and spot patterns. When are you tired? When are you bursting with ideas? When are you really driven to get more done? When are you falling asleep at your desk?

Here’s what my day tends to look like:

• 9-11am: I am not very productive in the morning so I never do creative work as soon as I get up. Instead, I do emails and chase invoices.
• 11am-3pm: I’m on a roll in the middle of the day so I normally spend that time doing deep work like writing or coming up with ideas. In the afternoon I’m no good at proof-reading so I always leave that to the next day
• 3-5pm: Working on fun stuff like eBooks, graphics, Instagram or researching new topics. I also schedule meetings and interviews in the afternoon otherwise they tend to eat into the time of the day where I’m most productive and it ruins my output for the day.

As you can see, its not really a steadfast schedule but it works for me. The most important aspect for me is flexibility. It’s loose and open to interpretation depending on how I feel that day.

Figure out what makes the most money

This might sound like a no-brainer, but take a look at your finances and figure out what made you the most money in the last few months. Now make that a priority. For me, it’s magazine writing. This means that when I sit down to come up with feature ideas I have a few publications in mind that I want to work with which makes the process more efficient.

Identify what drains you

For me, it’s public speaking and travelling. Luckily I don’t need to do to much of this, but every now and again I get an opportunity to go to a great event in London or to promote my book in front of a group of people.

Even though the experience has an impact on my mental health, I still want to pursue these things because they are good for networking, sales or they just sound like good fun. Nowadays I make sure that when I say yes to these things I space them out on my calendar.

For example, I try to only travel to London once a month and always schedule in a day at home straight after to allow myself to hide under the duvet for a few hours and work from bed if needs be. I also try to only to one speaking engagement or podcast recording per week, as it normally means blocking off a whole day.

Plan for down days

If you wake up feeling really mentally unwell, then the chances are you’re not going to be very productive that day. That’s OK, and something you need to learn to plan for and forgive yourself for.

How I get around this is by using those days to do things that don’t require much brain power. Normally, creative work is out the window but that doesn’t mean I can’t use the time to do administrative tasks like chasing late payments or sending out emails to prospective clients. Nothing too taxing, literally just an email saying hello and requesting a meeting.

This might not fall into the concept of ‘creating a schedule’ but I truly believe that part of managing your time as a freelancer with depression involves anticipating a dip in your mood. Remember, moods are unpredictable but working from home means that you can deal with it!

Out of Office: Ditch the 9-5 and Be Your Own Boss is available now!

 

The post How to create a freelance routine when you have depression appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

But you know what? I’ve done all of those things, and while I can’t guarantee my cappuccinos were ever frothy enough to win any prizes, I was never truly an impostor.

It was all in my head.

Here’s what I wish I’d know…..

1. It’s real and totally normal

It’s a psychological pattern in which you doubt your accomplishments and have a persistent, internalised fear of being exposed.

2. It gets worse the higher up the ladder you climb

It always amazes me to think that even billionaires feel like impostors sometimes. Every Oscar-winner has probably felt like a fraudster as they make their acceptance speech, having the most exciting moment of their career live on stage in front of the world.

Part of impostor syndrome is that it’s actually rife amongst seasoned experts. Scientists and writers at the top of their game are all likely to experience it even though the world sees them as extremely knowledgable in their field.

3. It’s not just women who get it

While early research assumed impostor syndrome was most common amongst high-achieving women, it’s now widely acknowledged as an issue experienced by both sexes. Tom Hanks gets it!

4. It can contribute to low self-esteem

I didn’t realise that every small piece of criticism I got was feeding into my impostor syndrome. I could get hundreds of positive comments from my boss and then one small negative thing would stick with me for weeks or even months, grinding down my self esteem. This made me feel like a failure and like I was a really bad employee and just a rubbish person in general.

5. It makes you work hard

The more I succumbed to impostor syndrome the more intent I became on proving myself wrong. I was so scared that I was going to be disciplined or fired that I worked really hard to prove to the world that I was a good manager.

6. Sometimes a little too hard

Yes, impostor syndrome definitely contributed to me busting a gut and saying yes to way more things than I could actually handle. I thought that saying ‘no’ was proof that I was unqualified so I bit off more than I could chew which led to burnout and ultimately a mental breakdown.

7. Sometimes it’s a sign you need to move on

I’ve learned recently is that it’s OK to quit. If you constantly feel like a failure and you think that it’s related to your job then maybe it’s not right for you. There is a time in life for getting out of your comfort zone but there’s also a time when you need to be right there in it, just coasting along and enjoying other things.

8. But most of the time it’s a sign that you’re embarking on something exciting

Feeling a mix of fear and excitement at work is quite special. It can propel you forwards. I’ve recently started doing a lot of speaking engagements and I’m choosing to look at it as a learning opportunity. I may not be qualified but the more I do it the better I’ll get at it!

9. There are simple ways to counteract it

I’ve learned two really simple and effective ways to cope with impostor syndrome, so much so that I managed to make a huge career change from working in catering to becoming a freelance writer and published author in just a few years without any relevant qualifications. I talk about it in my book Out of Office; Ditch the 9-5 and Be Your Own Boss.

10. Sometimes it’s helpful

Don’t believe me? Cosmopolitan editor Farrah Storr puts is like this:

“Those that ask questions are those that get ahead,” says Farrah. Impostor syndrome is nothing but a “control valve that alerts us when we are in our discomfort zone”. And what happens in that dreaded zone? Personal growth. Accelerated growth to be exact.

Have you experienced impostor syndrome? How did you deal with it?

The post 10 things I wish I’d known about imposter syndrome appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

“Do you want a sick line?” the doctor asked me, and as she did so I breathed a sigh of relief.

I had been considering speaking to a doctor for weeks at this point; repeatedly lifting the phone to my ear, dialling the number and then slamming it down in protest, adamant that I’d be laughed out of the doctor’s office and told to stop being so dramatic.

I can’t remember exactly what tipped me over the edge and forced me to make the appointment, as a lot of it went by in a blur. I vaguely remember hiding in toilets at work, losing my temper with a team member over something incredibly insignificant and crying uncontrollably on the bus home every night.

Not exactly the behaviour you’d expect from a manager who is overseeing 4 supervisors, 20 team members and running several retail outlets and 2 departments simultaneously.

I knew I was stressed. My workload had increased dramatically over the 6 months leading up to this and I was feeling troubled following the death of a grandparent. I knew I wasn’t coping very well. I remember looking at my ‘to-do’ list and thinking that it was too overwhelming.

My brain couldn’t process the list into actions, and it was like I was trying to read hieroglyphics. There seemed like no good place to start. I didn’t want to start. I needed a break, but asking for it felt like a sign of weakness. I’d always got promoted on the basis of saying yes to more work and more responsibility. For a proud career woman like me, saying I couldn’t handle it felt shameful.

When the doctor heard my symptoms she very kindly suggested I take a few weeks off to recuperate and prescribed be some beta blockers as she thought I was having some anxiety issues. Being given that ‘permission’ by an authority figure was just what I had been looking for. I felt reassured.

There was certainly no talk of depression.

I left that day happy in the knowledge that I just needed some time to relax, gather my thoughts and was certain I’d get back to my career in no time at all with the support of my boss to help ease the workload. Just a short break.

 

After a week, having given my mind and body the rest it had been silently screaming for I was suddenly overcome with the feeling of hopelessness. Darkness. The kind that feels like a dense, damp storm cloud enveloping your whole body to the point of suffocation.

From the doctor’s waiting room I stared out at the beautiful summer sky but all I could see was my desolate, pointless existence. Nothing mattered any more. The beta blockers were quickly swapped out for something new and a fresh sick line was scribbled, revealing the worst.

Patient is suffering from depression.

After 3 months off work I had exhausted the generous amount of sick pay allocated to me and I had to make a decision. I had tried going back to work a day here and there; the HR department were very accommodating and let me try a ‘phased return’ but doing my job seemed incomprehensible. How was I supposed to lead a team?

How could I adhere to health and safety standards, deliver award-winning customer service, and control a department budget when I could barely find the energy to take a shower everyday? How could I sit in meetings and listen to company objectives when in my head I was contemplating the very worst, every moment of every day? How could I performance manage staff when I couldn’t see the point in doing my own job?

I felt backed into a corner – not by my employer – but by my illness. My job required a certain level of attention that I physically was not capable of offering. So, I quit. I had spent 5 years in the industry; on my feet for 50+ hours a week, doing all the shitty jobs, late nights, early mornings, working for pennies, and finally I had landed the highest earning job of my career. I was in a desk job with sociable hours, stability and lifelong prospects. Then I lost it all. Through no fault of my own, all of a sudden had no ability to do the job I had worked so hard to secure. Even now – 4 years later – I feel totally incapable when it comes to the tasks I used to complete with ease. There is an entire skill set on my CV that I may as well just delete. I have the experience, but I believe I’ve lost the capacity.

I’m not trying to encourage people to quit their jobs as soon as they’re diagnosed with depression.  Not everyone will be affected the same way that I was. A lot of people find their job is the one constant in their lives during a depressive period, and it gives them comfort to focus on something other than their own mind. I just want to be completely honest about my experience and what I personally had to do to get better.

I feel angry that I had to lose my career to save my mental health. I feel like I had this enormous setback in life where all my hard work had been for nothing. This stupid illness came along and it took over my life. The honest truth is that it still does. I’m almost certain it’ll control me for the rest of my life. Is this the way it should be? Should we feel forced to be unemployed, unable to contribute to society because of our brain chemicals? Absolutely not, but it’s the situation many of us find ourselves in. Feeling overwhelmed? Take a look at my self-care tips for when you’re feeling depressed.

Today, I have no confidence in my ability as a manager. I’ve worked in middle management roles during my recovery (which is ongoing, by the way) and although I can do it, I seem to have a finite amount of energy for jobs involving leadership. It eventually takes its toll on me and I either have to quit, reduce my hours or hand over some responsibility to others. So unfortunately at the moment, I only feel capable of doing a job which as no responsibility and pays minimum wage. Some people would find this humiliating, and I did too at first. The alternative is to earn more money and compromise my future and I’m just not willing to go down that road again. Its simply not an option.

There’s a certain freedom that comes with working in a less pressured work environment. My job no longer defines who I am, but that’s a good thing. I’ve learned that it’s OK not to have the career I thought I once deserved. What I actually deserve is a healthy, happy, fulfilled existence.

My career did give me that for a while, but I couldn’t continue. Now I’m on the road to discover what else I can do, what else I can create, experience and give to others in order to get some sort of satisfaction whilst maintaining a balanced head. Having a less stressful job has given me the energy to explore the creative talents that I always thought I would pursue after university, but never did.

Creating content for my blog is one thing that I really look forward to doing. This thing came to exist because of me. Does it pay the bills? No. But I’ve learned stimulating my brain is incredibly important to my own well being; so if waitressing everyday allows me the opportunity to share my thoughts on here the rest of the time, then I think their are worse things I could be doing, don’t you?

The post Why I had to lose my career to save my mental health appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

f you find something you love, you should absolutely aim to do that thing everyday even if it’s just a hobby. If you’re lucky, your passion for that hobby might turn into a job without even trying.

Stop doing what you hate

It was really important for me to take time off from my day job to realise that I didn’t want to do it anymore. I know most people don’t love what they do, but I seriously didn’t enjoy the responsibility and stress that came with my job as a manager. It took its toll on my relationships, mental and physical health, and made me unhappy in so many ways that it went way beyond the usual ‘my job sucks’ kinda situation.

Unfortunately I was so sick from work I had to take a lot of unpaid time off, but I urge others to take some holidays in general to have time for reflection. It’s too easy to take a week off to fly to a hot country, drink too much and then fall back down to earth with a bang when you return to work.

Set aside some time to write down what you want from a job, or even just a hobby; anything that you think will give a sense of purpose to your days. Think about the things you enjoy when you’re off work. What do you look forward to? What could you see yourself doing? What could you do everyday that wouldn’t feel like a job, but instead something you jump out of bed for and have to do?

I know that writing is perfect for me because my ideas keep me up at night. I get so engrossed that I forget to eat and when I’m typing away getting up to go to the bathroom is an inconvenience! If you can’t think of anything that gets you excited, that’s OK too. My advice is to first stop wasting energy on something you know you hate, because it leaves you very little left in the tank to pursue what does make you happy.

Take a class

The most common reason I hear for not chasing your dream is “I’m not talented enough” or “I don’t know how”. If this sounds like you then I strongly advise you take a class to find out just how talented you really are. Over the years I’ve gladly taken part in at any extra training provided in my workplace in the form of first aid and management courses. In the evenings I’ve done several writing courses as well as a gym instructor course and an introduction to counselling.

I’ve struggled more than anyone to try and pin down what it is I want to do with my life, and even though many of these training exercises haven’t led to new career paths they’ve enriched my life, given me added skills and if nothing else helped me cross another potential option off the list.

Just cause you’re good at it doesn’t mean it’s right for you

I remember vividly the day I quit my first coffee shop management job. My area manager wished me all the best, and as I told her I wasn’t cut out for leadership she loudly proclaimed “But you’re so good at it!” much to my embarrassment and brief feeling of regret.

I think that was when I realised that I had spent 2 years doing a job I despised purely because I was so flattered that other people thought I was good enough to do it. With every promotion I felt fear and a sense of worth in equal measure. Obviously the small pay rise offered a tempting reward but I honestly think the sense of accomplishment was what kept me chasing the next new title on my name badge.

But after the congratulations had been passed around, the real work began and I was left feeling empty and more stressed than before. The point is, it’s all about balance. We’ve all got to make enough money to live comfortably, but sometimes doing 50 hours a week to earn a good wage makes life uncomfortable in other ways.

Sometimes working for less money doing something you enjoy offers a more fulfilling lifestyle overall; it’s not particularly well-paid but its not horribly soul-destroying either. Balance!

What steps have you taken to find your passion?

The post Finding your passion appeared first on Fiona Fletcher Reid.

I’ve been focusing on the little things that occur on a daily basis – making a nice dinner, rearranging the new flat, exploring my local gym – instead of worrying about the fact that we’ve moved 300 miles away from home. No biggie, right?

In fact, distance is only as far as you make it. Since moving I’ve actually reconnected with so many people who have private messaged me to say good luck, or even offered to come visit us. I’ve spoken to most people more than I usually would because I’m so aware of the geographical space between us, and I instinctively want to make the communication lines stronger.

The other thing that has helped me maintain my sanity (for 90% of the time) has been to surround myself with comforting things. I don’t mean physical things like cuddly toys but more like activities that give me comfort, things that help calm my insecurities and make me feel in control of my now non-existent routine.

I ordered an online grocery shop to arrive the day after we moved in, because I have wierd issues with food (for evidence read any food related post on this blog) and like to have healthy, satiating options available to me at all times. This is some deep-rooted fear of starving to death by the way, brought on by restricted eating for the last decade of my life.

Obviously I ordered some treats in there to help with my emotional eating too (I’m looking at you peanut butter) but overall I just wanted to fill our new home with familiar foods that I could use to rustle up a fulfilling plateful, whilst minimising my anxiety around meal times.

I try to make going to the gym a daily habit – for my mood as well as my waistline – so I wanted to ensure I could do that as soon as we moved in. Luckily there is a budget gym just around the corner from that flat and I was already a member so I just changed my location online and I could use it straight away.

I’ve never been able to find a gym with a regular yoga class, so when I saw my local offering four classes a week I jumped – don’t worry I stretched beforehand – at the chance. I was up for the 7am class on Wednesday morning and it felt great to be back practising a good habit for both mind and body. Did you know that early morning exercise actually gives you the legal right to spend the entire day telling everyone what you did and being a smug little twat about it?

So my attempts at damage control seemed to be working pretty well and I’d only uttered “I’m FINE!” in the style of Ross from Friends one or two times under my breath and it had gone unnoticed. All was well. That was, until we need furniture.

Yes people, the most terrifying thing about moving away from home has been having to purchase new Ikea flat-pack furniture and trying to build it before my husband got home from work in some sort of attempt to prove I can be useful. I’m currently unemployed, and after a two day stint at constructing and ruining two sets of drawers I’ve tainted any dream I had of becoming a joiner. There were tears, and many curse words were spoken but I guess I’m still here.

I didn’t fail, I just made a bit of an arse of it.

And on that note, let’s raise a glass to making terrifying life-changing decisions! What’s the worst that can happen?

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