Framily, Pink Boas and Peony Handwash New Blog Post

Framily, Pink Boas and Peony Handwash

There's Always a Choice

I started this week feeling weighed down by something I couldn't wait to put behind me and ended it buying peony handwash for a workshop toilet whilst getting ridiculously excited about tea lights.

Which, when you write it down, sounds utterly ridiculous. But there we are. (Again - lol)

I've also bought peony candles for the room, printed off a stack of colourful playbooks, planned nice snacks, and assembled what can only be described as a travelling collection of sequinned hats, oversized sunglasses and a giant pink boa.

I appreciate this doesn't sound much like semi-retirement. In fact, the more I think about it, the less convinced I am that semi-retirement is actually what I'm aiming for. I think what I'm really trying to retire from are the things that drain me. And there's a mahoosive difference.

Last week started with something that had been sitting heavily in the background for a while. One of those situations that takes up far more headspace than you'd like it to because your brain insists on running through every possible scenario, conversation and outcome, usually at three o'clock in the morning when you'd rather be asleep.

Now that chapter is over, the biggest feeling is relief and that’s not because everything has magically been resolved or there was a nice, neat ending. Life doesn’t really provide those unless you’re watching a romantic comedy like When Harry Met Sally or Love Actually.

I just feel lighter. You know when you've made a decision, stuck to it and can finally stop rehearsing versions in your head. That’s the kind of relief I’m on about.

I met up with my friend Sarah, we've known each other for almost fifty years which feels a bit scary when I see it written down because I'm fairly sure we're both still in our early twenties.

Sarah is one of those people who sits in that category of family without actually being family or ‘framily’ as I prefer. (You know how I like my made up words.)

My definition of framily:

·The people who don't need explanations.

·The people who don't need the backstory because they already know it.

·The people who would absolutely help you bury a body if required.

Not that I'm planning to test the theory, but it is nice to know the option is there.

We had lunch, chatted, laughed and put the world to rights. Nothing remarkable but also entirely remarkable. Because there is something very grounding about being with people who you can totally be yourself with. No performance or editing. No need to explain why you're feeling what you're feeling, they just accept you as you are.

As I've got older, I've realised how valuable that is. Perhaps that's why I'm so obsessed with creating spaces where other people feel that too, like my online memberships have always been, as was FAB Business Club in particular.

Which brings me neatly to my inaugural Sassy Shoes Experience this Saturday coming up. Or perhaps not neatly at all because I’ve also realised that my thought processes rarely run in a straight line -who knew?!?!

I went for a recce at the venue this week. It's an old industrial building, one of the units is now home to the Notts Pride Hub, and from the moment I walked in I could see it. Not physically, obviously, nobody was actually there except Leigh, the chairperson.

But I could imagine my Divas in the space.

·I could see conversations happening on the sofas.

·I could picture where we'd do different activities.

·I could imagine the energy in the room.

The whole place felt light and colourful and comfortable, not at all precious or pretentious. And that's been very important in my search for a ‘goldilocks’ venue. I really want people to feel they can relax in the space.

I came away feeling calmer once I’d seen the venue because I knew I'd made the right decision. Then, naturally, my brain immediately moved on to things like fragrance, candles and playlists. As one does. The funny thing is that I know some people won't understand why these details matter.

It's only handwash.

It's only a candle.

It's only a playlist.

Except it isn't.

I still remember attending a training session years ago that was so spectacularly underwhelming it has clearly left a permanent scar on my professional psyche. The people running it were educational professionals who proudly described themselves as outstanding. Yet as we arrived, we were ignored. There was no welcome or introductions. No effort to establish what people needed or acknowledgement that some attendees were completely new and others weren't.

There was no sense whatsoever that anybody had thought about the experience from the learner's perspective. Apparently, this experience has lodged itself somewhere in my brain and never left. Because whenever I create something, I always try and think about how people will feel.

·Will they feel welcomed?

·Will they feel included?

·Will they feel safe enough to ask questions?

·Will they feel accepted exactly where they are?

·Will they leave feeling different from when they arrived?

And this is not because I've filled their heads with information, Google can do that.

What interests me is transformation.

·The penny-drop moment.

·The shift.

·The body language change.

·The moment somebody suddenly sees themselves differently.

That's the bit that gets me every time.

It's probably why I get disproportionately excited about workshops, talks, retreats and my card decks. And all the other things I seem to keep creating despite repeatedly declaring that I'm slowing down.

Every time I announce that I'm easing off, another opportunity appears. At some point I may have to accept the evidence.

·I love facilitating.

·I love teaching.

·I love creating experiences.

·I love standing in front of a room and watching people join dots they couldn't see before.

If someone offered me a choice between spending a day wrestling with marketing strategies or spending a day facilitating a workshop, I'd choose the workshop every single time. No hesitation or deliberation.

And that's what I've been noticing all week this week - choice.

Not in some grand life-changing sense, just in the small, everyday decisions we make about where our energy goes.

Who we spend time with, what we say yes or no to, the things we carry, or what we finally put down.

Because there is always a choice, not always an easy one. Sometimes the options are more "which of these slightly rubbish alternatives can I live with best?" You’re caught between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out the least worst option but even then, there's still a choice.

And perhaps that's why I feel lighter as I write this week. Not because everything is perfect or I've suddenly unlocked the secret to life. (Although if I do, you'll be the first to know.)

I feel lighter because I:

·stopped fighting certain realities

·paid attention to what energises me

·noticed what drains me

·spent time with people who make me feel safe

·am ridiculously excited about a workshop

And I've started wondering whether my goal was never actually to do less it was just to do more of the things that feel like me. More creativity, connection, meaningful conversations, opportunities to help people see themselves differently. More giant pink boas. Definitely more giant pink boas.

It's taken me a lifetime to get here…

And if there's one thing this week has reminded me, it's that whilst we don't always get to choose what happens, we do get to choose how we respond. You weigh it up. You decide what you can live with. Then you move forward. There's always a choice.