How have I managed to have another week that has been an absolute schmozzle?
I was in Sydney this week for a business conference as part of the mastermind group I’m in. The last conference was in November, and I remember how disconnected I felt. That week, I was purging, unable to keep myself from being sick.
My body knew then that I was out of alignment. Being in a huge conference room with 350+ people, listening to a multitude of speakers sharing their expertise, wasn’t something I needed, and my body knew it. I missed most of the conference last time. While I didn’t realise then that I no longer identified as a business owner, I guess my body did.
This time, I went in with curiosity. My membership in this community is paid until September, and this was one of the last two conferences I would be attending, assuming I cancel my membership later this year.
I found myself tentatively sharing with my business community that I was experiencing a huge shift in my identity. That my dream was to create a life where I could be a creator, a full-time author, following wherever my muse took me.
I was met with varying responses. Some tried to shrink my dreams with comments like, “I’ve written ten books, and I’m no bestselling author,” looking at me like I was crazy to dream so big. Others looked confused, almost sympathetic, as if they perceived I’d lost my way. As if I had failed at growing a business and was making a quiet exit. A handful of people understood and celebrated my clarity, though they were still nervous for me, acknowledging that this shift wouldn’t be easy.
It was a lot. I knew I had to protect my energy and, more importantly, my dreams. When others don’t share your vision, they often struggle to understand where you’re trying to go because it’s not a place they’ve been before. That’s when I realised I was no longer in the right room. Most of the authors in that space had written books to point people toward a higher-value product in their business, and I get it. But I want to be around people who write because it’s who they are, because they get immense joy from putting words on a page.
I feel that every Sunday morning when I sit down to reflect and write. Writing is my therapy, my inspiration. It’s how I make sense of where I’ve been and where I want to go. It’s where I feel at home. My Sunday mornings are sacred, and I love them.
It’s how I connect with myself and with you. Writing these heart-to-hearts feels like the most authentic expression of who I am, and I honestly can’t see myself stopping. It brings me so much joy.
Because I write for myself first, and then I share it. If I had to write for an audience, trying to figure out what you’d be most interested in, I don’t think I could keep going. My writing is my art, my story, and I need to let it lead me wherever my mind wanders.
And this week, that’s exactly what I didn’t have—space for my mind to wander and create.
My week was hijacked by board-related work that completely derailed my plans. Even though I was at the conference, I spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday in and out of calls, dealing with urgent issues.
On Wednesday night, I had planned to see my friend Alex and meet her baby girl, born on New Year’s Day. But a last-minute board meeting meant I got all of 40 minutes with her and the baby.
I sat in the lobby of her apartment for an hour and forty minutes on a call, no dinner, only to jump back in a cab to my hotel.
And to top it off? I don’t even get paid for my time on these board roles.
I don’t want to make this a gender thing, but I see men holding much stronger boundaries and being far less likely to give their time freely to unpaid work, especially those who are not retired.
This week made it painfully clear that my obligation-driven self had gone too far. I spent so much of my thirties being the good girl, working hard, putting in extra hours, climbing the corporate ladder, trying to be noticed, picked, highly regarded.
The only person who didn’t pick me was me.
And now, I’ve fallen into the same trap, over-giving for free out of a sense of contribution. But if anyone should know the importance of value exchange, it’s me.
Looking back, I can see the exchange was once credibility. Being on a board made Nayla, my ego, feel important, needed, smart.
But now?
I want to work with people who are doing great work but who are also working smarter in the process. People who value life and understand that contribution goes both ways. Much to Nayla’s disappointment, I don’t need the kudos of a board title anymore.
I need space to create the future I want. I need my time to be valued. And giving it away for free is no longer something I’m comfortable doing in the name of contribution, because it’s taking more than just my time.
It’s taking my future self away from me too.
Where are you falling into the same trap?
Where are you putting others’ needs ahead of your own?
What are you giving your time to that keeps your own dreams out of reach?
I’ve realised this week that saying a BIG NO is much harder than we think. We get presented with opportunities to choose differently, but if we keep being who we’ve always been, choosing to keep others comfortable at the cost of our own discomfort, we’ll never reach the future we truly want.
This week, I told the founder of my business mastermind group that I won’t be renewing my membership. I don’t feel like I’m in the right room anymore.
Next week, I have to put on my big girl pants and have a conversation with my fellow board members to let them know I need to step down.
I feel scared and sick at the thought of letting people down. But I can’t keep choosing to let myself down.
I’m choosing me.
And I’m terrified of the fallout, but it’s necessary. The alternative is watching other people follow their dreams while a part of me dies, buried under the weight of obligations I took on as a different version of myself.
It’s time.
What BIG NO do you need to say in order to choose yourself?
Keep going and keep growing.
Love Glin x
P.S. Three wins from my week:
1. Protecting my dreams. I know not everyone will understand what I’m doing or why, and that’s okay. I’m so proud of myself for standing firm. I’m choosing to make my life count, and I’d rather fail trying than never find out what could have been.
2. The Trust Currency experiment continues. Observing whether I’m seeking certainty or allowing myself to trade in trust currency is proving to be a game-changer. When I feel fear or my mind starts to wander, I bring it back to my choice. I’m choosing to trust myself and my vision, knowing I’ll be okay.
3. Being all of me. I’ve often felt guilty for what I feel, but I now see it as a signal, not something to suppress. I know I’m no longer aligned with the business mastermind. I’m not focused on scaling a business - I’m focused on scaling a message. And that message requires me to embody it fully. It’s not enough to tell; I need to show. I was so proud of myself for being able to share that openly with my business mentor.
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