Last Friday I had a session with Jessie, and afterwards my mind felt quieter. Slower. Like I could finally take things one step at a time again. And then… life showed up. Or maybe it wasn’t life at all. Maybe it was just my thoughts getting really blinking loud.

Lately I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. You know that horrible, tight, sinking feeling in your stomach that doesn’t quite go away? I’ve had that on and off for days. And I know exactly what it is. It’s my thinking. The stories I tell myself. The tiny mental films and future scenarios that quietly run in the background of my mind, often without me even realising. When I’m properly engaged in something, they’re not there. But the moment I’m alone with my own head, they show up. And they’re persistent.

I know I only need to focus on the next step. I know I don’t have to solve everything at once. But right now it feels like my head is swirling with a million things. It’s half term, work has ramped up, the house is a mess, and there are meetings and deadlines and expectations everywhere. And yes, I know I’m not alone in this. I know this is just life. I know this is normal. But for some reason it’s really got a grip on me. I think I’m also quietly annoyed at myself for not taking the week off to spend more time with my boys. Right now, I just can’t see how I’m supposed to fit all of it in. 

And then there’s the screen time. I keep seeing those articles pop up on my phone about how bad it is for kids. I know mine spend too much time on their computers. And just like that, my mind slips into a familiar, unhelpful spiral. You know the one. Sarah, you should be doing better for your kids. You should be making your business more efficient. What are you even doing? The self-doubt gets so loud it drowns everything else out. You haven’t done this. You haven’t done that. You’re letting people down.

The other night I wasn’t feeling great and I had this strong pull to go and see the receptionist. So after I dropped my boys’ friend home, I went round there and we ended up chatting until about 10pm, which is absolutely past my bedtime. But I think what I actually needed wasn’t advice or fixing, I just needed to be around someone I knew wouldn’t judge me, someone I could talk to properly and someone who would genuinely listen. And she really did. She makes me feel safe, and I’ve realised how rare that actually is - to feel completely safe and comfortable in someone’s presence, to be able to talk openly about what’s going on in your head without feeling judged, without needing to perform, without having to hold yourself together. She even came up with a few small, simple things I could try that might help, but more than anything she truly listened. I felt heard. Like I actually mattered. Like someone genuinely cared. And I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel quite like that before. I feel incredibly grateful that she’s in my life right now.

She also shared something she says to herself when she starts to overthink: “No… we don’t do that anymore.” And I love that, because I can see exactly what I do. I project myself into the future. I create scenarios. I imagine outcomes. I tell myself stories that don’t even exist yet, and then I feel anxious as if they’re already happening. So now, when I catch myself doing it, I say it quietly to myself, Sarah… we don’t do that anymore. And it really helps. It breaks the pattern. It reminds me that this is just my mind doing what it’s learned to do, and that I can choose something different. It gently pulls me back into the present instead of letting my head run ten steps ahead and spiral.

But there’s also this quiet part of me that understands something else. Deep down, I know I can’t stay where I am right now. I know I have to move forward from this. I know I have to grow. And that’s uncomfortable. It’s hard. It feels exposing. It feels vulnerable. But I also know, just as surely, that if I don’t walk through this part, if I try to avoid it or stay where it feels safer, I’ll end up regretting it. 

And I think a lot of fulfillment comes from growth - from stretching yourself in ways you didn’t think you could - because growth teaches you so much and quietly builds confidence. Even in moments when you are full of doubt. Especially in moments when you are full of doubt. Every small step you take, even when you don’t feel ready or brave, builds something inside you. It creates momentum. It shows you, gently and over time, that you can do this. Not in big dramatic leaps, but in small, steady, human steps, even on the days you really don’t want to.

So this is where I am right now - in the middle, in the mess, in the learning, in the discomfort. Still taking the next small step, even when it feels heavy, even when my self-doubt is loud. Because I know there is something amazing on the other side. 🩷