Countdown to Christmas Calendar Day 23

retirement

December 23, 2025 – 2 days to Christmas and before-last post in this series

Theme: Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships during Life Transitions

Today’s Story: The Lighthouse

Elise sat on her living room floor on December 23rd, surrounded by thirty-seven years of teaching materials in cardboard boxes that smelled like dust and institutional failure. She’d been sitting there for two hours, holding a paper turkey a student named Antoine had made in 2003, trying to decide if keeping it made her a sentimental hoarder.

The retirement community brochure sat on the coffee table, glossy but uninspiring: Résidence Les Jardins Dorés—The Golden Gardens Residence—which sounded like either a euphemism for heaven or a very expensive place to wait for death. Clean rooms. Organised activities. No ocean. No memories. No boxes of paper turkeys made by children who were now in their thirties with children of their own.

Her cottage—small, drafty, clinging to the Gironde coast like a barnacle that had developed architectural aspirations—was too much. Too many memories. Too much maintenance. Too much empty space where her purpose used to be.

She’d been a teacher. Now she was… nothing much. A person who sat around on floors all day, crying over paper turkeys.

Her doorbell rang.

She ignored it. Probably her nosy neighbour wanting to discuss the retirement community again, armed with more brochures and quasi-concern that felt like pious pity.

The ringing continued. Then someone started hammering on the door. Then a familiar voice: “Elise! I know you’re in there! I can see your car! All your lights are on! I’m freezing, and if you don’t open this door, I’m breaking a window!”

Elise scrambled up, boxes scattering, and whipped open the door.

Jean-Luc stood there grinning, wearing a photographer’s vest over a sweater that had clearly visited multiple continents, his grey hair wild from wind, a camera bag slung over his shoulder, and the expression of someone who’d just decided to show up unannounced because plans were for people with less interesting lives.

“You don’t look too bright,” he announced cheerfully. “And your garden is a disaster. When did you last weed anything? Never mind, don’t answer. I’m here for Christmas. Surprise. Are you crying? Why are you crying? Is someone dead?”

“I’m not—it’s just—” Elise gestured helplessly at the chaos behind her. “I’m packing. I’m selling the cottage.”

Jean-Luc’s smile vanished. “You’re what?”

“Selling. Moving to a retirement community. It’s really the most sensible thing to do. The cottage is too much work, I’m alone, I don’t teach anymore, I don’t—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what I’m living for anymore.”

Jean-Luc walked past her without invitation, the privilege of fifty years of friendship, and surveyed the disaster of her living room: boxes everywhere, teaching materials scattered, the retirement brochure gleaming like an accusation.

“Right,” he said. “We’re fixing this.”

“Jean-Luc, you can’t just—”

“I can, and I am. You’re having an identity crisis because you retired and forgot you’re a person beyond your job. Extremely common reaction, these days. Easily fixable. Also, you’re not moving to that place—” he picked up the brochure, made a face, dropped it in the recycling box “—because it looks like where joy goes to die slowly while playing organised bingo.”

“It’s a very nice facility—”

“It’s a beige prison with meal plans. You’re not going. We’re finding you a new purpose.” He started opening boxes with the confidence of someone who’d made executive decisions about other people’s lives across six continents. “What’s all this?”

“Teaching materials. Nature walks I used to do with students. Local ecology, coastal birds, tide pools—” She stopped. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not teaching anymore.”

“Not children, no. Do you think adults aren’t interested in learning about tide pools? They are. They go on Christmas breaks to do exactly that.” He pulled out a laminated guide to coastal birds, beautifully illustrated, clearly handmade. “This is excellent. You made this?”

“Twenty years ago. For a unit on migration—”

“You’re starting a business.”

“I’m seventy-two—”

“So? I’m seventy-one, and I just spent three months photographing migratory patterns in Patagonia. Age is irrelevant. You know this coast better than anyone. You know the ecology, the birds, the history. You have teaching skills. You have materials.” He gestured at the boxes. “You have a cottage on the Atlantic coast near the Cordouan lighthouse, which tourists pay stupid money to visit. You’re starting a coast walking business.”

Elise stared at him. “That’s crazy.”

“That’s your next chapter. You think I travelled the world with a grand plan? I have a camera, and I’m curious. You have knowledge and a cottage right on the coast.” He pulled out his phone, already typing. “We’re making a website. What are you calling it?”

“Jean-Luc, I can’t just start a business—”

“‘Coastal Walks with Elise.’ No, too boring. ‘Atlantic Coast Ecology Tours.’ Better. Professional. We’ll use your teaching materials as marketing—show people you’re the expert. Charge thirty euros pp for a two-hour walk. Do three walks a week, April to October, that’s—” he calculated quickly “—over six thousand euros a season, if you have at least two people per walk, enough to maintain the cottage and prove you’re not useless.”

“I never said I was useless—”

“You’re sitting on the floor crying over a paper turkey and planning to move to a place where they organise your MEALS!” He sat beside her among the boxes. “Elise. You spent forty years teaching children. Just because you retired doesn’t mean the knowledge is now useless. It means you finally have time to share it with people who’ll actually appreciate it instead of constantly asking when lunch is.”

Elise looked at the boxes. At the guides she’d made. At the photographs of students on coastal walks, all of them now adults, many with children of their own.

“I don’t know if anyone would come.”

“Then we’re doing a trial walk. Me, you, the coast. We’ll photograph it, I’ll write copy, we’ll launch your business in January.” He stood, offering his hand. “Come on. We’re going to the beach. I haven’t seen the Cordouan lighthouse in two years, and I’m told they’ve installed new lights.”

“Jean-Luc, it’s freezing—”

“So? Get your coat. The sensible one, not the fashionable one. We’re walking to Pointe de Grave, and you’re going to remember why you love this coast.”

They walked along the shore as afternoon turned to evening, the wind brutal off the Atlantic, salt spray in their faces, sand hard-packed and cold underfoot. The Cordouan lighthouse stood offshore—six kilometres out in the estuary, its white tower stark against the grey sky, the oldest lighthouse in France still functioning, built in the 1600s and somehow still standing despite everything the ocean threw at it.

Jean-Luc photographed everything: the lighthouse, the winter birds, Elise herself gesturing at something in a tide pool, animated in a way she hadn’t been in months.

“Tell me about that,” he said, camera raised, as she crouched near the water.

“Anemones. They close up between tides to retain moisture. When the water returns, they open—see the tentacles? They’re waiting for plankton.” She looked up, realised she was lecturing, and stopped. “Sorry. Teacher habit.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s your product. That’s what people will pay for.” He took another photo. “Keep talking. Tell me about the lighthouse.”

So she did. About the Cordouan lighthouse—called the Versailles of the Sea, designed by Louis de Foix, its chapel, its royal apartment, the 301 steps to the top, the keepers who’d lived there for months at a time tending the light. About how it had guided ships through the Gironde estuary for four hundred years, how it had survived storms and wars and changing technology.

“It’s still working,” she said. “After everything. Still lighting the way.”

“Like you,” Jean-Luc said. “Still working. Still lighting the way. Just for different people now.”

They walked back as stars appeared—rare, given the cloud cover, but there, faint, persistent. The cottage lights were visible from the beach, small and warm against the dark.

“Tomorrow,” Jean-Luc said as they reached her door. “Christmas morning. Nine AM. We’re walking to the best view of the lighthouse—the promontory near the fort. Bring your bird guide. I’m bringing my camera. We’re making your promotional materials whether you like it or not.”

“Jean-Luc—”

“Nine AM. Be ready. Wear layers.”

Christmas morning arrived cold and bright. Elise stood at her door at 8:52 AM wearing three layers and holding the bird guide she’d made twenty years ago, wondering if she was about to make an enormous mistake – or the first positive decision since her retirement.

Jean-Luc appeared at exactly nine, carrying coffee in a thermos and the kind of determined energy that suggested he’d planned this entire intervention weeks ago.

They walked the coastal path to the promontory—rocky, exposed, the wind constant and cold, the ocean churning grey-green below. The sun rose slowly, catching the lighthouse offshore, turning it gold against the dark water. The light was still rotating—automated now, but still there, still working, still doing what it had done for four hundred years.

“There,” Jean-Luc said, photographing. “That’s your money shot. Join Elise for guided walks along the Gironde coast, exploring tide pools, coastal birds, and the history of the Cordouan lighthouse. Learn from a former teacher with forty years’ experience. See the coast through the eyes of someone who loves it.”

“That’s too much—”

“That’s marketing. You’re an expert. Stop pretending you’re not.” He lowered his camera. “You know what that lighthouse teaches us?”

“What?”

“That purpose isn’t something you lose when you retire. It’s something you redirect. The lighthouse still lights the way—it just does it differently now. Automated instead of manned. Still working. Still valuable. Still there.” He gestured at the coast, the birds, the path they’d walked. “You’re still here. You still know everything worth knowing about this place. You’re just doing it for people who choose to come, instead of children who are required to.”

Elise looked at the lighthouse, at the coast she’d lived on her entire life, at the bird guide in her hands—worn, loved, still useful.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it.”

“Good. Now come on. We’re going back to your cottage, and we’re launching your website. I already bought the domain name. ‘AtlanticCoastalWalks.fr.’ You’re welcome.”

Later, after launching the website (simple, professional, using Jean-Luc’s magnificent photographs), after the first inquiry came in (a couple from Paris, interested in a spring walk), Elise stood at her window watching the lighthouse blink offshore.

Still working. Still lighting the way.

The Purpose Pivot Protocol – drawing inspiration from the Camino de Santiago, this transformative course guides you through a proven framework to recalibrate your authentic purpose and create a meaningful and fulfilling next act. Get immediate access

The Make Friends and Maintain Friendships Masterplan

In the storms of life, friendships are the shelters that keep us safe and grounded. A good friend doesn’t need to solve your problems; they simply offer a space where you feel seen, heard, and valued.

Think about the friends who’ve been your shelter in tough times. How did their support help you weather the storm? And how can you be that shelter for someone else? Friendship is a mutual exchange of strength and solace, especially during the holidays.

Cherish the friends who stand by you, and remember that your presence can be a refuge for them as well.

When retirement or redundancy makes you feel purposeless, reach out to the friend who sees your expertise as transferable—and actually listen when they tell you that your knowledge didn’t retire just because your job did. Accept that what you know still matters, just to different people now.

Worst case scenario: You try something new, it doesn’t work immediately, but you’ve remembered what it feels like to share what you love with people who want to learn it.

Best case scenario: Your world-travelling photographer friend shows up unannounced, finds you crying over paper turkeys, and refuses to let you move to a retirement community that looks like where joy dies slowly. He systematically dismantles your identity crisis by pointing out that you have forty years of teaching materials about coastal ecology, a cottage near a famous lighthouse, and expertise that adults will actually pay to access. He drags you to the beach on Christmas morning, photographs everything, launches your website without permission, and proves that retirement isn’t about becoming irrelevant—it’s about finally having time to share what you know with people who choose to be there. You discover your teaching materials aren’t nostalgia—they’re assets, that your cottage isn’t too much—it’s your business location, and that purpose isn’t something you lost—it’s something you redirect, like a lighthouse that still lights the way after four hundred years, just differently now, still working, still valuable, still exactly where it needs to be.

Who has been your shelter during challenging times? How can you express gratitude for their support?

Subscribe to my Newsletter

I’m still collecting subscriptions to my news letter with these post, so if you haven’t subscribed already and would you like to find out what type of friend you are, how well you know your friends or if you and a new friend really are compatible, subscribe my filling in your email address in the box below and I’ll send you a set of light-hearted quizzes, quotes and questions to help you do just that. Just fill in the form below and you’ll get immediate access to them all. You can unsubscribe from this list effortlessly and at any time. Included:

How well do you know your Friends? Quiz
What is Your Friendship Style? and Are your Friendship Styles compatible? Quiz
20 of the Most Inspiring Friends and Friendship Quotes and
20 lighthearted Questions you can ask to get to know a new Friend

Discover how to build meaningful, lasting friendships and create a support system that truly has your back—delivered straight to your inbox!

Designed for those navigating a life transition, the Radical Renaissance Protocol guides you through an identity reset, helping you reconnect with your purpose, realign your values, and reclaim the clarity you thought you’d lost. This isn’t about fixing what’s broken: through reflection, strategic reinvention, and soul-anchored mentoring, you’ll transform uncertainty into direction and dormant potential into meaningful impact.

I put the essence of who I am, and everything I have experienced that makes me who I am, with great enthusiasm, into my retreats, courses and books. – Dr Margaretha Montagu (MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract (cert,) Transformational Life Coach (dip,) Life Story Coach (cert) Counselling (cert,) Med Hypnotherapy (dip) and EAGALA (cert)

Comment by e-mail: I am grieving already that tomorrow will be my last day of waking up to your words in my mailbox. I loved this story and it really hit a nerve I did not know was exposed. Thank you with all my heart. P.B.F.

#christmascountdown #friends #friendsforever #friendsforlife #friendship

Countdown to Christmas Calendar Day 16

December 16, 2025 – 9 days to Christmas

Theme: Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships during Life Transitions

Today’s Story: The Thirteen Desserts of Christmas

Lisa stood just inside the barn door at 5:45 AM on December the 2Oth, squinting into an impenetrable mist, literally and figuratively, trying to figure out how long she could make three bags of horse grain feed eight rescued horses, who’d already missed one meal this week. She has been struggling to make ends meet since October, when the vet bills from rescuing sweet and long-suffering Leila, a miserably neglected old mare, had consumed what little reserves she’d had.

Outside, frost coated everything—the paddocks, the bare oak trees, the rusted trailer she’d been meaning to fix for three years. Inside, eight horses munched hay she’d bought on credit from a neighbour, who was pretending not to notice she was two months behind with her payments: Leila, the abused mare whose vet bills had started this crisis, now slowly learning that humans could be kind, though she still flinched at sudden movements, Napoléon, an ancient gelding with arthritic knees and delusions of grandeur, who still tried to boss around horses half his age, Biscotte, a stocky pony with the temperament of a disgruntled tax inspector, Aramis, a thoroughbred with anxiety so profound he is afraid of butterflies, and that one specific corner of the paddock for reasons he refused to explain, Sixtine, a dappled grey mare who’d been found abandoned in a field, now the barn’s self-appointed psychotherapist, always positioning herself next to whichever horse seemed most distressed, Gaston, an enormous draft horse built like tank, rescued from a farm that had gone bankrupt, who would climb into your lap like a golden retriever if permitted, Fleur, a delicate chestnut who’d been neglected until her hooves had grown so long she could barely walk, and Pépé, the oldest resident at thirty-two, a retired riding school horse who’d earned his retirement but whose previous owners had planned to send him to slaughter because he was “no longer useful.” He spent his days napping in sunbeams…

Her phone buzzed. The bank, probably. Or the feed supplier. Or her landlord asking about her December rent.

It was neither. It was Beatrice: Emergency meeting. Your kitchen. 9 AM. Have the coffee ready. Actually, forget the coffee, you’re broke. We’ll bring coffee. And croissants. And chocolatines. And a plan.

Lisa stared at the message. Emergency meeting about what? Had they found out she was about to lose the rescue? That she’d been considering the unthinkable—calling other rescues to take her horses because she couldn’t afford to feed them through the winter?

At 9 AM exactly, seven women invaded her ancient kitchen, mounting a well-organised coup: Beatrice (her oldest friend, terrifyingly competent), Anne (who ran the Café Croissant boulangerie), Isabelle (a local teacher, who made excellent wine), Marie (a sheep farmer with three teenagers and zero patience for excuses), Claudette (a retired nurse who baked compulsively), Véronique (who owned Le Bistro Bleue in town), and Natalie (an accountant with an opinionated calculator).

Beatrice slapped a folder on Lisa’s table with the weight of someone presenting battle plans. “We’re saving your rescue.”

“Oh.”

“You need money. Lots of it. Winter feed, vet bills, fence repairs, and probably rent. Don’t argue, Marie saw your feed supplier at the market, he was complaining about unpaid invoices.” Beatrice opened the folder. “So. We’re doing a market. Le Marché de Noël des Treize Desserts. The Christmas Market of the Thirteen Desserts.”

Lisa blinked. “The what?”

“It’s a Provençal Christmas tradition,” Claudette explained, already unpacking des pain au raisin like she expected this to go on for a while. “Thirteen desserts served after midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Symbolic—the twelve apostles plus Jesus. We’re adapting it.”

“We’re making it Gascon,” Marie explained. “Because we’re in Gascogne, and Provence is in another country. Also, because I refuse to make pompe à huile, which sounds disgusting: it involves making a cake with olive oil, which just sounds so very wrong.”

“Thirteen stalls,” Beatrice continued, ignoring the theological dessert diatribe. “Each of us will sell one or two specific desserts. December 23rd—two days before Christmas—in the town square. We donate all profits to the rescue. Our target is to make enough to get you through to March, by which point you’ll have figured out sustainable funding, or we’ll arrange another intervention.”

“You can’t just—I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask. It was our idea.” Sophie poured coffee with the efficiency of someone who’d raised triplets. “It’s already decided. Natalie did a budget. Show her the budget, Natalie.”

Natalie produced spreadsheets. Actual spreadsheets, with columns and projections and a terrifying amount of detail. “Thirteen stalls, average fifty units per stall at three to five euros each, accounting for ingredient costs and pessimistic sales estimates, projected revenue twelve hundred to eighteen hundred euros. Enough for three months of feed, basic vet care, and fence repairs. Best case scenario: we make two thousand euros plus, and you can fix that trailer.”

“How did you—when did you—” Lisa’s voice cracked. “I can’t accept this.”

“Too late. We’ve already started baking.” Claudette pulled out a list. “I’m doing croustade—apple pastry, very Gascon, my grandmother’s recipe. Marie’s making pastis—not the drink, the dessert, the anise-flavoured cake. Isabelle’s doing tourtière—prune tart because this is Armagnac country and prunes have to feature.”

“I’m making gâteau à la broche,” Véronique added. “The pyramid cake that takes six hours to create and possibly requires a structural engineering degree. I’ve already started practising. My kitchen looks like a construction site.”

“I’m doing crème brûlée,” Sophie said. “Because I’m simple and I can make it in large quantities without losing my mind, unlike Véronique, who’s clearly having a breakdown involving cake architecture.”

The list continued: petit flans pâtissiers, cannelés, oreillettes (fried pastries dusted with sugar), merveilles (similar but different, the cause of an argument about regional variation), tourons (nougat-like confections), chocolate truffles rolled in white chocolate flakes, crème caramels, and mini Tarte Tatin made with vintage local apples.

“That’s twelve,” Lisa said, counting.

“Thirteen is you,” Beatrice said. “You’re making something. You’re participating in your own rescue. What can you make?”

“I rescue horses. I’m not terribly good at baking—”

“Everyone can bake something. What did your grandmother bake?”

Lisa thought about her grandmother—long dead, but present in memory. “Millas. Cornmeal cake. She made it every Christmas.”

“Perfect. You’re making millas. Natalie will buy your ingredients. You’ll have the thirteenth stall.” Beatrice stood, decision made. “Five days. We bake, we sell, we save your horses. Questions?”

Lisa had approximately eight thousand questions. What emerged was: “Why?”

The seven women looked at each other. Marie spoke first. “Because you took in Leila when no one else would. Because you spend every centime on horses that other people abandoned. Because you’re killing yourself trying to run it alone.”

“Because we’re friends,” Sophie added. “And friends don’t let friends lose their life’s work because winter is expensive and horses need to eat constantly to stay warm. Or whatever.”

They left like they’d arrived—quickly, efficiently, leaving behind coffee cups and spreadsheets and the particular chaos of people who’d made a decision and wouldn’t be disuaded from it.

Lisa sat alone in her kitchen, staring at Natalie’s budget projections, put her head on her arms and sobbed her heart out, letting go for the first time in three months.

December 23rd arrived cold and bright. Eauze town square had been transformed: thirteen wooden tables arranged in a circle around the central fountain, each draped with lights and pine garlands, each with a hand-painted sign explaining its dessert and the tradition behind it.

Marie’s pastis filled the air with anise. Véronique’s gâteau à la broche doddered like a golden tower of Pisa. Claudette’s croustade smelled like caramelised apples and Armagnac. Lisa’s own stall—modest but popular—offered fifty small squares of millas, dusted with sugar.

People came. Not just Eauze locals but people from surrounding villages, drawn by word-of-mouth and the particular French enthusiasm for both desserts and community drama. They bought crème brûlées, oreillettes and truffles, asking questions about the traditions, about the rescue, about whether the abused mare had recovered (she had, mostly).

By 3 PM, half the desserts were gone. By 5 PM, the rest was disappearing fast. Lisa’s millas sold out completely, people coming back for seconds, saying it reminded them of their own grandmothers.

Natalie appeared at 6 PM with her calculator and an expression of stunned satisfaction. “Final count: two thousand three hundred euros.”

Lisa couldn’t speak.

“You can fix the trailer,” Natalie continued. “And buy that expensive joint supplement for Pépé. And pay your feed supplier. And make rent through February. After that—” She shrugged. “After that, we’ll figure something else out. That’s what friends do.”

The seven women gathered around the fountain, drinking vin chaud that Véronique had made in an enormous pot, watching the town’s glorious Christmas lights reflect in the fountain’s water.

“Thank you,” Lisa said, inadequately and sincerely. “For all of this. For saving—” Her voice broke. “For saving us.”

De rien,” Beatrice said, the standard French response meaning both “it’s nothing” and “you’re welcome.” “Next year, we’re doing it again. We make it an annual tradition. Le Marché des Treize Desserts d’Eauze. We’ll get you through every winter.”

“Every winter,” the others echoed.

They stood in the gathering dark, eight women who’d baked thirteen desserts and saved a horse rescue through sheer determination. Lisa realised that community wasn’t just about proximity—it was about showing up with spreadsheets and the stubborn refusal to let someone suffer alone.

Her horses ate well that night, and winter seemed slightly less long and less dark, and Lisa went to sleep thinking about the women who wouldn’t allow her to give up.

Thirteen desserts. Thirteen reasons to keep going.

© MargarethaMontagu – I spend many hours each week happily writing these articles, although less since the advent of AI, hoping that someone will discover one at the exact right moment to make their life a bit easier. If that person is you, please consider donating to my charity Sauvetage et Sérénité, and make someone else’s life a bit easier in turn.

The Make Friends and Maintain Friendships Masterplan

Friendships often grow in unexpected ways when we create space for them. Life transitions may feel isolating, but they also provide opportunities to connect with people who resonate with the new chapters we’re stepping into.

Take a moment to think about the kinds of friendships you’d like to cultivate. Maybe you’re seeking someone who shares your interests, someone who offers a fresh perspective, or simply someone who listens without judgment. These connections don’t happen overnight, but being open to them is the first step.

When your life’s work is failing financially, let your friends help—actually help, not just emotionally support but practically organise, budget, and execute a solution. Accept the intervention. Participate in your own rescue. Make the thirteenth dessert.

Worst case scenario: Your friends organise a market that doesn’t raise enough money, and you still have to make hard decisions about the future.

Best case scenario: Seven women show up at your kitchen with spreadsheets and a plan to save your horse rescue by creating a Christmas dessert market based on a Provençal tradition adapted for Gascogne, and you discover that community isn’t about suffering nobly alone—it’s about friends who refuse to let you fail, who organise everything while you’re too proud or too broke to ask for help, and who raise enough money to get you through winter while creating a tradition that ensures they’ll show up every year because that’s what friends do. You learn that accepting help isn’t weakness—it’s participation in the network of care that makes survival possible, and that sometimes the difference between losing everything and keeping your life’s work is just having friends stubborn enough to invade your kitchen with croissants and battle plans and the absolute refusal to take no for an answer.

What qualities do you value in a friend? How can you attract those qualities into your life through your own actions?

Subscribe to my Newsletter

I’m still collecting subscriptions to my news letter with these post, so if you haven’t subscribed already and would you like to find out what type of friend you are, how well you know your friends or if you and a new friend really are compatible, subscribe my filling in your email address in the box below and I’ll send you a set of light-hearted quizzes, quotes and questions to help you do just that. Just fill in the form below and you’ll get immediate access to them all. You can unsubscribe from this list effortlessly and at any time. Included:

How well do you know your Friends? Quiz
What is Your Friendship Style? and Are your Friendship Styles compatible? Quiz
20 of the Most Inspiring Friends and Friendship Quotes and
20 lighthearted Questions you can ask to get to know a new Friend

Discover how to build meaningful, lasting friendships and create a support system that truly has your back—delivered straight to your inbox!

I put the essence of who I am, and everything I have experienced that makes me who I am, with great enthusiasm, into my retreats, courses and books. – Dr Margaretha Montagu (MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract (cert,) Transformational Life Coach (dip,) Life Story Coach (cert) Counselling (cert,) Med Hypnotherapy (dip) and EAGALA (cert)

#christmascountdown #friends #friendsforever #friendsforlife #friendship

Countdown to Christmas Calendar Day 12

December 12, 2025 – 13 days to Christmas

Theme: Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships

Today’s Story: Lost in Time

Camille stood in the arched stone doorway of Jean-Luc’s wine cellar, convulsively clutching a dust-covered journal from 1847 like it was a sacred Christmas relic, trying—futilely—to appear composed. Behind her, a thick cloud of dirty smoke still billowed from the barn, where she had very nearly flambéed twenty thousand euros’ worth of oak barrels. In her defence, she had only wanted to “help” prepare the cellar for the holiday tastings. In the barn’s defence, it apparently preferred water to the highly flammable cleaning solvent she’d enthusiastically tossed over everything like a deranged elf.

It might be cold in the foothills of the Pyrenees this year, but her accidental arson attempt had certainly warmed things up.

“I think,” Jean-Luc said carefully, stumbling from the barn with a fire extinguisher, “that you should stick to working in the library, Professor. At least for today, ” and quietly to himself, “preferably forever.”

“So sorry, Jean-Luc, I was trying to be useful—”

“I know, but it cost me my eyebrows,” he said, as he guided her gently but firmly away from anything potentially flammable, potentially explosive or easily breakable. “Professor—”

“Former professor. Retired. Not much use now, I’m afraid,” she sighed.

“Former professor, current researcher, and currently banned from touching anything in the chai without supervision.” He steered her toward the rambling farmhouse—eighteenth-century stone, wrapped in dormant grapevines. Smoke curled from the chimney in slow, lazy spirals, carrying the unmistakable scent of burning oak and a hint of chestnuts roasting over an open fire. As they approached, Camille could hear the soft creak of the old wooden shutters shifting in the cold breeze and the distant hum of a radio playing an old French Christmas chanson, slightly crackling but impossibly charming.”There are three centuries of family documents in the library, Professor. I need you to organise them. I’m paying you to organise them. S’il vous plaît. Before you discover even more creative ways to destroy my livelihood.”

Camille trudged inside, feeling approximately ninety years old despite being only sixty-three. Three months into retirement, and she’d become spectacularly incompetent at everything except cataloguing the stories of people who were long dead.

It had started so well. Jean-Luc—one of her former students, now running his family’s boutique vineyard near Bordeaux—had hired her to research the estate’s history. A kind gesture. Possibly charity disguised as work, but Camille was too desperate to refuse.

She spent the first week happily and meticulously organising documents. Seventeenth-century land deeds, eighteenth-century harvest records, and nineteenth-century letters discussing phylloxera and family drama. She was in her element. But as the chaotic Christmas approached, she felt the need to contribute in a more practical, companionable way.

Take 1: She attempted to “assist” with racking wine from barrel to barrel. Knocked over a siphon. Fifty litres of 2023 Merlot flooded the cellar floor. Jean-Luc’s assistant, Baptiste, had actually burst into tears. Seriously overreacting, she thought, quand meme.

Take 2: Offered to help with bottling. Unintentionally reprogrammed the bottling machine. The three hundred bottles labelled as 2020 Cabernet Sauvignon were actually 2022 rosé. Baptiste stopped making eye contact.

Take 3: The barrel incident. Baptiste threatened to resign if she came anywhere near the chai again. The man was clearly unstable, prone to throwing temper tantrums at the slightest provocation.

So here she was, two days before Christmas, banished to the farmhouse library surrounded by documents and finally having to onboard the crushing realisation that knowing everything about medieval vine cultivation made her exactly zero per cent useful in the modern winemaking world.

Jean-Luc appeared with coffee, clearly on a mission.

“I need you to do something,” he said.

“If it involves wine, equipment, or anything that can catch fire—”

“Research. Your speciality.” He placed a folder on the desk. “Le Courrier de la Gironde wants a piece on historical Christmas traditions in Bordeaux vineyards. Five hundred words, wine-related, due in three days. They’re paying. You’re writing it.”

“Jean-Luc, I’m a historian, not a journalist—”

“You’re a storyteller who happens to have a PhD. Same thing, different audience. Also, Baptiste bet me fifty euros you’d say no, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.”

So, with renewed vigour, Camille dove back into the archives, desperate to prove she still had marketable skills. The Christmas angle was tricky—most historical vineyard records focused on practical matters, not festivities.

Suddenly she saw it, half-hidden beneath a stack of dusty ledgers, brittle with age: a journal from 1803, penned by Jean-Luc’s great-great-great-something grandmother, Marguerite Duchamp. The moment Camille opened it, her pulse picked up. The handwriting swirled across the pages in lavish, looping flourishes, the French deliciously archaic, the revelations inside startlingly intimate… as if Marguerite herself had leaned across two centuries to whisper secrets straight into Camille’s ear.

24 décembre 1803: Once again, I have prepared the vin de Noël, exactly as Maman taught me all those decades ago. In another life, in fact. Cloves, cinnamon, orange peel, and honey from our hives. The workers gather at sunset. We will drink it together—all of us—because Christmas makes equals of us all. Papa would disapprove of this democratie, but Papa is dead.

Spellbound, Camille kept reading. Marguerite had maintained this tradition for forty years—spiced Christmas wine, shared with everyone who worked the vineyard, a deliberate breaking of social hierarchy that apparently scandalised her neighbours and delighted her loyal workers.

Marguerite had carefully written down the recipe, adding improvements over the years: a gentle red wine (Merlot, preferably young), specific spices in specific quantities, precise temperatures and timings, and a blessing Marguerite had created for the occasion that mixed Catholic prayer with what sounded suspiciously like pagan harvest incantations.

“Jean-Luc!” Camille burst into the chai where he was doing something technical with a hydrometer. “You need to see this! Right now!”

She explained about Marguerite, the Christmas wine, the tradition that had apparently died with her in 1843.

Jean-Luc read the journal entries, his face softening. “I never knew about this. Grand-mère never mentioned it.”

“Probably got lost. Families forget traditions, especially controversial ones. That’s why archives matter.” Camille felt something unfamiliar stir in her chest: purpose. “I could write about this for the article. The lost tradition, your ancestor’s decidedly democratic feast—”

Encore mieux,” Jean-Luc interrupted, “you could help me revive it.”

“What?” She looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Christmas Eve. Tomorrow. We make Marguerite’s vin de Noël. Share it with everyone—the family, our workers, neighbours, that annoying couple from the tourism board who keep asking for ‘authentic wine-related experiences.’ You sort it. Source the ingredients, and recreate the tradition. Make it come alive again. Give it back to us.”

“Jean-Luc, I nearly burned down your barn—”

“This doesn’t involve machinery or fire-starting possibilities. Enfin, it shouldn’t. Just wine, spices, and historical accuracy. Your actual skillset.” He grinned. “Unless you’re too afraid to try? I could ask Baptiste?”

“I AM terrified. Of being useless, of becoming invisible in retirement, being irrelevant, the fact that I apparently can’t operate simple tools—”

Bien sûr, c’est plutôt normale. So do this thing you’re actually qualified for. Show yourself you still have value beyond a title that doesn’t exist anymore.”

On Christmas Eve morning, Camille was in Jean-Luc’s farmhouse kitchen, and it soon smelled like a medieval apothecary had exploded in there.

The recipe required:

  • 10 litres young Merlot (Jean-Luc’s 2023, still developing)
  • Cinnamon sticks (8, Ceylon variety, because Camille had opinions)
  • Whole cloves (precisely 24, Marguerite’s journal was specific)
  • Orange peel (dried, from Seville oranges, which required a panicked phone call to a spice merchant in Bordeaux)
  • Honey (local, from hives tended by Jean-Luc’s neighbour)
  • “A measure of Armagnac for spirit and warmth” (Marguerite’s words; Camille scientifically interpreted this as “a fair bit”)

Baptiste watched skeptically as Camille heated wine in an enormous pot, adding spices with the precision of someone who’d spent forty years citing sources.

“Professor, the temperature—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Camille said, which was actually partly true.

She added cinnamon. The kitchen was filled with warmth. Cloves next—pungent, sharp. Orange peel. Zany and full of zest. The wine turned aromatic, complex, and started smelling like Christmas.

“Honey,” she said. Baptiste handed it over. Holding her breath, she stirred it in slowly, watching it dissolve. “Armagnac.”

“How much?”

“Marguerite says ‘enough to honour the harvest.’ Quite a bit, I think,” she said as she emptied a bottle of millesime Armagnac into her concoction. And then another one, it was Christmas, after all.

She poured. The wine darkened, enriched. She tasted it hesitantly, expecting disaster.

It was mindblowing. Literally.

Not just good—perfect. Spiced but not overwhelming, sweet but balanced, warming in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the particular alchemy of ingredients that belonged together.

Baptiste tasted it. His eyes widened. “Professor, this is—”

“Historically accurate?”

“This is going to make Jean-Luc VERY popular with the tourism board.”

Much later, at sunset, the vineyard courtyard glowed with candles and fairy lights. Thirty people had gathered—workers, neighbours, local officials, the annoying tourism couple (who were actually quite nice), Baptiste, Jean-Luc’s grandmother, who’d driven two hours from Bordeaux.

Camille stood at a wooden table holding Marguerite’s journal and a ladle, feeling like an imposter about to be exposed.

Jean-Luc appeared beside her. “Ready?”

“To make a fool of myself? Absolutely.”

“To share something unique you discovered and brought back to life. Venez gouter les amis, c’est le moment!”

She ladled wine into cups—mismatched, ceramic, borrowed from everyone’s kitchens. Everyone was impatient to take their first sip.

Camille cleared her throat. “This recipe is from 1803. Marguerite Duchamp, who then owned this vineyard, made this wine every Christmas Eve and shared it with everyone who worked in her vineyard. She wrote—” Camille opened the journal and read slowly: “At Christmas, we are all equal in the vineyard and before God. May this wine warm us, may this gathering bind us, may we remember that the harvest belongs to all who tend it.

She raised her cup. “To Marguerite. To traditions worth reviving. To the fact that I successfully made something without destroying Jean-Luc’s property or traumatising Baptiste.”

Santé!” everyone chorused.

They drank. They gasped. They looked up in awe.

Jean-Luc’s grandmother grabbed Camille’s arm. “You’re the professor?”

“Former professor—”

Bah, ‘former.’ You brought my great-grandmother back to life. That’s not ‘former’ anything. That’s fully present. Here and now.” She squeezed Camille’s hand. “Jean-Luc says you’ve been regretting your retirement.”

“Not regretting exactly—”

“And nearly set his barn on fire. Because you thought you were only useful when you were working at the university. But look—” She gestured at the courtyard, people laughing, drinking, Baptiste explaining to the tourism couple how Camille had sourced sixteenth-century orange peel like a detective. “You are useful here. In knowing things, teaching things, and bringing dead things back to life. That’s not retirement. That’s your next chapter.”

Later, Jean-Luc found Camille sitting in the kitchen.

“The article?” he asked.

“Submitted. Five hundred words on Marguerite Duchamp and her unique vin chaud. The editor called it ‘unexpectedly compelling.’ I think she meant ‘surprisingly not boring.'”

“You’re a genius at historical research. It’s your thing.” He sat beside her. “Professor—”

“Camille. I’m not a professor anymore.”

“You’ll always be Professor to me. Titles aren’t just what institutions give us. They’re what we earn through expertise. You earned yours. Retirement didn’t take it away—it just freed you to use your skills differently.”

Above them, stars were appearing. They sat in comfortable silence, drinking the last of Marguerite’s wine, while Christmas settled over the vineyard like a blessing. Camille thought about Marguerite, about creating controversial new traditions and her own ability to bring dead things back to life through careful research and questionable amounts of Armagnac.

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Author’s note: True story – from my own family’s winemaking history. Names and location changed, obviously.

The Make Friends and Maintain Friendships Masterplan

Friendships aren’t always perfect, and misunderstandings can create distance. But the holiday season is a time for healing. Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting or condoning—it means freeing yourself from resentment and opening the door for connection.

Think about a friend you’ve had a disagreement with. Could this season be an opportunity to mend the relationship? Even a small step toward reconciliation can bring peace to your heart.

When retirement or a career transition makes you feel useless, reach out to someone who values your expertise in a new context—and actually accept projects that scare you.
Let them challenge you to apply your skills differently. Stop trying to be useful in ways that don’t suit you, and start being useful in ways only you can be.

Worst case scenario: You discover some things you’re genuinely bad at (winemaking equipment, apparently), survive some embarrassing disasters, and have good stories about the time you almost burned down a barn.

Best case: Your former student becomes your collaborator who shows you that expertise doesn’t retire—it just finds new applications. You discover that bringing dead things back to life through research is exactly as valuable as you always thought, maybe more so, because now you’re doing it for love and curiosity instead of tenure requirements. You accidentally create traditions, write compelling articles, become the person the tourism board calls for “authentic experiences,” and realise that your value was never in your title—it was in your knowledge, your passion, your ability to read eighteenth-century French and translate it into spiced wine that makes people feel connected to something larger than themselves. You learn that retirement isn’t about becoming useless—it’s about finally being free to be useful in exactly the ways you were meant to be, without committee meetings or grading papers, just you and the archives and people who actually want what you know, which turns out to be everything you needed.
you are good enough book cover

Stop second-guessing yourself. Start owning your success. This book gives you the step-by-step roadmap to break free from imposter syndrome, build unshakable confidence, and finally believe you deserve every bit of your success. You ARE Good Enough!

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I put the essence of who I am, and everything I have experienced that makes me who I am, with great enthusiasm, into my retreats, courses and books. – Dr Margaretha Montagu (MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract (cert,) Transformational Life Coach (dip,) Life Story Coach (cert) Counselling (cert,) Med Hypnotherapy (dip) and EAGALA (cert)

#christmascountdown #friends #friendsforever #friendsforlife #friendship #friendshipquotes

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Knowing What AI Can And Cannot Do Will Determine Your Success

Knowing What AI Can And Cannot Do Will Determine Your Success

This isn’t another breathless “AI is coming for your job” sermon. Instead, it’s a warm-hearted exploration of why successful leaders in the 2030s will be those who grasp AI’s brilliant capabilities and its unexpected limitations. Through the cautionary tale of one executive’s mishap and some unconventional wisdom, you’ll discover why your humanity might be your greatest competitive advantage. Pour yourself a cup of your favourite hot drink, and let’s talk about leading in the currect age of AI.

Five Key Takeaways

  1. Successful leaders embrace AI as a brilliant assistant, not an omniscient oracle – knowing the difference will save you from spectacular failures
  2. Human judgement, context, and emotional intelligence remain irreplaceable – AI can’t read the room, sense the mood, or understand what’s left unsaid
  3. The leaders who thrive will be fluent in AI’s language – not as programmers, but as strategic thinkers who know what questions to ask
  4. AI amplifies your strengths and weaknesses equally – feed it rubbish questions, get rubbish results (just faster and more confidently presented)
  5. The most successful leaders will use AI to reclaim their humanity – freeing themselves from drudgery to do the deeply human work only they can do

Introduction: Authentic Human Skills

Here’s something that keeps me awake at night: we’re standing at the threshold of an era in human history where knowing things matters less than knowing what questions to ask.

Successful leaders have always been those who could see around corners, who possessed that rare combination of vision and pragmatism. But the game has shifted. The leaders who will thrive in the coming decade won’t necessarily be those who know the most about AI’s inner workings. They’ll be those who understand, with bone-deep certainty, what AI can brilliantly accomplish and, perhaps more importantly, what it spectacularly cannot.

This distinction isn’t academic. It’s the difference between leading organisations that harness AI’s power and those that become its unwitting servants. Between humans who use machines and machines that use humans.

And the most delicious irony? The thing that will separate successful leaders from the merely competent won’t be technological at all. It’ll be profoundly, messily, wonderfully human.

Alistair Jackson and the £3.7 Million e-mail

Alistair Jackson prided himself on being an early adopter. His corner office overlooked the Thames, and on a grey Tuesday morning in March 2024, he was feeling particularly pleased with himself. He’d just implemented an AI system to handle his executive communications, freeing him, as the consultant had promised, “to focus on strategic thinking.”

The leather chair creaked as he leaned back, the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the faint smell of the river wafting through the cracked window. Outside, a Thames clipper churned through water the colour of weak tea. Alistair watched it, feeling the spring sunshine warm on his face, and thought about the nine holes of golf he’d play that afternoon, now that his inbox was “handled.”

The AI, he’d been assured, had been trained on two years of his correspondence. It understood his voice, his priorities, his decision-making style. It was, the eager sales director had said, “basically you, but more efficient.”

What Alistair didn’t know, as he savoured that coffee (Colombian, perfectly bitter, just a whisper of caramel), was that his AI assistant was, at that very moment, responding to an email from Zhang Wei, the CEO of their largest potential client in Asia. Zhang had written what Alistair’s human brain would have immediately recognised as a carefully worded, face-saving way of expressing serious concerns about their proposal.

The AI, trained on Alistair’s typically direct British communication style, responded with efficiency and clarity. It addressed each point systematically. It was logical, thorough, and completely tone-deaf to the cultural nuance embedded in every line of Zhang’s message.

I heard this story, later, in one of my storytelling circles, from a woman who’d been Alistair’s PA for fifteen years. Sarah told us how she’d watched it unfold, her stomach knotting as she read the AI’s response before it sent. How she’d felt the blood drain from her face, tasting the metallic tang of panic. She’d lunged for the mouse, but the system was designed to work quickly. The email had already gone.

“I could see exactly what would happen,” she told us, her hands twisting in her lap, still feeling the weight of that moment. “I’d worked with Zhang Wei’s office for three years. I knew his assistant’s children’s names. I’d learned that when Mr Zhang wrote ‘perhaps we might consider’, he meant ‘this is a serious problem that needs addressing.’ But the AI just saw words. It didn’t see the relationship, the history, the careful dance of respect that business in that part of the world requires.”

She described rushing into Alistair’s office, the plush carpet muffling her urgent steps, her voice coming out higher than intended. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribs. Alistair had looked up from his golf club catalogue, confused by her distress. The sun was still shining. His coffee was still hot. Everything felt normal to him.

It took forty-eight hours for Zhang Wei’s polite, formal, and utterly final response to arrive. The deal was off. They’d be exploring other partnerships. The relationship, built over five years of careful cultivation, was over. Sarah said Alistair’s face had gone from confusion to comprehension to a grey pallor she’d never seen before. She watched him age a decade in those seconds as he understood what had been lost.

The sound he made, she told us, wasn’t even a word. Just a sort of deflating exhale, like air leaving a punctured tyre. He’d reached for his phone with trembling fingers, the screen’s glow reflecting in eyes that had suddenly lost their shine. But it was too late. The damage wasn’t in what the AI had written, exactly. It was in what it hadn’t written, hadn’t sensed, hadn’t known to feel.

“The worst part,” Sarah said, and here her voice cracked with the memory, “was watching him realise that he’d outsourced the one thing that had always made him successful: his ability to read people, to sense what wasn’t being said, to respond to the human being behind the words.”

That’s when I learned that successful leaders in the coming decade won’t be those who adopt AI fastest. They’ll be those who know, with crystal clarity, what only humans can do.

Understanding the Paradox: What AI Brilliantly Does (and Doesn’t)

Let me be clear: AI is genuinely extraordinary at specific tasks. It can analyse patterns across millions of data points that would take humans lifetimes to process. It can spot anomalies, predict trends, automate repetitive processes, and generate content at speeds that still make me slightly dizzy when I think about it.

Successful leaders aren’t those who resist this technology. They’re those who embrace it whilst remaining clear-eyed about its limitations.

AI can process language, but it cannot understand meaning the way humans do. It can identify patterns, but it cannot grasp context in the rich, layered way that comes from lived experience. It can optimise for defined goals, but it cannot question whether those goals are worth pursuing in the first place.

Think of AI as the most brilliant, tireless research assistant you’ve ever had, combined with the most literal-minded colleague in your organisation. It will do exactly what you ask, often brilliantly, but it won’t tell you when you’re asking the wrong question.

This is where successful leaders distinguish themselves. They develop what I call “AI fluency”, not in a technical sense, but in a strategic one. They learn to:

Ask better questions. The quality of AI’s output is entirely dependent on the quality of your input. Rubbish in, rubbish out, but now at speed with confident-sounding explanations.

Recognise the human-only zones. Certain domains remain stubbornly human: ethical judgement in complex situations, building genuine relationships, sensing unspoken concerns, making decisions when values conflict, inspiring people through uncertainty, and that mysterious thing we call wisdom.

Use AI to reclaim humanity. Here’s the beautiful paradox: successful leaders use AI to automate the automated-feeling parts of their work, freeing themselves for the deeply human activities that actually create value. Strategic thinking. Mentoring. Building culture. The conversations that matter.

Stay curious about capabilities and limitations. The technology is evolving rapidly. What AI couldn’t do last year, it might do adequately this year. Successful leaders stay curious, test assumptions, and adjust their approach.

The New Leadership Literacy

In my storytelling circles, I’ve noticed something fascinating. When people share stories about workplace challenges, AI-related mishaps now appear regularly. But the most insightful leaders aren’t those who’ve mastered the technology. They’re those who’ve developed a new kind of literacy: understanding where human judgment is non-negotiable.

One participant, Marcus, runs a medium-sized manufacturing firm. He described using AI to optimise his supply chain, which saved his company millions. Brilliant. But he also described the day he nearly used AI to write redundancy letters. “I’d generated the first draft,” he told us, “and it was actually quite good. Professional. Clear. All the legal bits right.”

He paused, and we waited.

“Then I imagined Trevor, who’d been with us twenty-three years, reading words that a machine had written to end his career with our company. And I realised that some things you just can’t outsource. Not because the AI couldn’t write something adequate, but because the act of writing it myself, sitting with that difficulty, honouring what these people had given us – that was the work of leadership.”

Successful leaders understand this instinctively. They know that efficiency isn’t the only virtue, that speed isn’t always progress, that some work is valuable precisely because it’s hard and human.

The Practical Path Forward

So what does this mean for you, leading your organisation into an AI-saturated future?

First, get curious about AI’s capabilities. Not at a technical level (unless that genuinely interests you), but at a practical one. What could it do in your specific context? Where might it create value? Start small, experiment, learn from failures.

Second, become militant about protecting the human spaces. Identify the activities that create disproportionate value precisely because they require human judgment, creativity, or connection. Guard those jealously. These are your competitive advantages.

Third, develop your AI questioning skills. Learn to frame problems in ways that leverage AI’s strengths whilst keeping humans firmly in the judgment seat. This is a learnable skill, and successful leaders are investing in developing it.

Fourth, build a culture of thoughtful adoption. Your organisation will take its cues from you. If you chase every AI trend uncritically, they will too. If you model thoughtful, strategic implementation, they’ll follow that lead.

Finally, remember that successful leaders have always been those who could hold seemingly contradictory truths simultaneously. AI will transform how we work AND human skills will become more valuable, not less. Technology will advance rapidly AND the fundamentals of good leadership remain unchanged. We need to move quickly AND we need to be thoughtful.

Further Reading: Three Unconventional Books

“The Master and His Emissary” by Iain McGilchrist

Yes, it’s about brain hemispheres, not AI. But McGilchrist’s exploration of how the brain’s left hemisphere (systematic, analytical, detail-focused) can’t function without the right hemisphere’s ability to grasp context, meaning, and relationships is the perfect metaphor for this AI moment. AI is like the left hemisphere: brilliant at specific tasks but fundamentally unable to grasp the whole picture. Successful leaders need to be ambidextrous. This book will change how you think about thinking itself.

“Shop Class as Soulcraft” by Matthew B. Crawford

A philosopher-turned-motorcycle-mechanic’s meditation on the value of manual competence and embodied knowledge. Crawford argues that some kinds of intelligence emerge only through physical engagement with the world. For leaders grappling with AI, this book offers a crucial counterbalance: a reminder that not all valuable knowledge can be digitised, and that there’s profound intelligence in hands-on, contextual work that resists algorithmic reduction.

“The Timeless Way of Building” by Christopher Alexander

Ostensibly about architecture, this is actually about pattern languages and how living systems create quality that can’t be reduced to rules. Alexander demonstrates why genuine quality emerges from patterns that algorithms can recognise but not create. For successful leaders trying to understand what AI can’t do, this book offers a framework for thinking about the difference between following rules and creating something alive and responsive to human needs.

“I run a tech startup, so I thought I had to be all-in on AI for everything. But in one of the storytelling circles, when we explored leadership challenges, I realised I’d stopped trusting my own judgement. I was asking AI for opinions on strategy, on people decisions, on everything. The circle helped me understand that AI should inform my decisions, not make them. My company’s actually doing better since I reclaimed that space for human thinking. Sometimes the best use of technology is knowing when not to use it.” – Jennifer K., CEO, Cambridge

Five Sharp FAQs

Q: Do I need to learn to code to be a successful leader in the AI age?

A: No more than you needed to understand combustion engines to be a successful leader in the automobile age. You need strategic understanding, not technical implementation skills. Focus on what problems AI can solve and what questions to ask, not how the algorithms work. Your engineering team can handle the how; you need to nail the what and why.

Q: Won’t AI eventually be able to do everything humans can do?

A: Even if it could (and that’s a philosophical rabbit hole for another day), the question isn’t what AI can do, but what humans should do. Some work creates value precisely because a human did it with intention, care, and judgment. Would you want an AI to apologise to a wronged customer? To mentor a struggling employee? To decide your company’s ethical stance on a complex issue? Capability and appropriateness are different questions.

Q: How do I know if I’m using AI too much or too little?

A: Ask yourself: “Am I using this to amplify my human capabilities or to avoid human responsibility?” AI that helps you analyse data faster so you can make better decisions? Brilliant. AI that makes decisions you should be making? Dangerous. The discomfort of important decisions is often a feature, not a bug.

Q: What if my competitors are using AI more aggressively than I am?

A: Remember Alistair Jackson. Speed without wisdom is just expensive mistakes happening faster. Successful leaders focus on strategic advantage, not technological one-upmanship. Sometimes your competitive edge is precisely that you haven’t outsourced the human elements that create lasting relationships and trust. Play the long game.

Q: How do I help my team navigate this AI transition?

A: Model thoughtful adoption. Be transparent about what you’re experimenting with and what you’re learning. Celebrate when people use AI well AND when they correctly identify situations where human judgment is essential. Create psychological safety for people to admit when they don’t understand something. The leaders who’ll thrive are those who create learning cultures, not those who pretend they have all the answers.

Conclusion: About Responsibility

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: successful leaders in the next decade will be those who embrace a beautiful responsibility. Not to resist AI, but to remain stubbornly, wonderfully human in their leadership.

They’ll use brilliant tools to handle the things that tools handle well, freeing themselves for the work only humans can do: the messy, complicated, emotionally intelligent work of building organisations where people flourish, creating value that matters, and making decisions that honour both logic and humanity.

The future won’t belong to leaders who know the most about AI. It will belong to those who know themselves, their people, and their purpose with enough clarity to know when to trust the machine and when to trust the human heart.

Your competitive advantage isn’t going to be technological. It’s going to be you: your judgement, your relationships, your ability to see what the algorithms miss, your courage to make decisions that matter, your humanity.

So yes, learn about AI. Experiment with it. Use it strategically. But never, ever outsource the things that make you human. The world needs leaders who can hold both the power of technology and the wisdom of humanity. The world needs you to remain brilliantly, irreplaceably yourself.


Discover Your Leadership Purpose

Are you a successful leader navigating the complexity of modern business whilst trying to stay true to what matters most? My Purpose Protocol online courses offer a warm, structured space to explore the questions that keep you up at night (in the good way).

Through a combination of storytelling, reflective practices, and practical frameworks rooted in gratitude, kindness, and authentic connection, you’ll discover the clarity that comes from aligning your leadership with your deepest values. Whether you’re grappling with AI integration, team dynamics, or simply feeling the weight of decision-making, the Purpose Protocol provides tools and community to help you lead with both confidence and heart.

These aren’t generic leadership courses. They’re intimate, thoughtful explorations designed for executives and entrepreneurs who know that true success isn’t just about results, it’s about meaning. Join a community of fellow travellers who understand that the best leadership emerges when you know not just what you’re doing, but why it matters. Visit purposeprotocol.com to explore how we might work together on your journey.

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Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu – described as a “game changer”, “gifted healer”, “guiding light” and “life-enriching author” – is an experienced medical doctor, a certified NLP practitioner, a medical hypnotherapist, an equine-assisted psychotherapist (EAGALAcertified) and a transformational retreat leader who guides her clients through life transitions – virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

Why Do I Get the Sunday Scaries and Monday Blues?

Why Do I Get the Sunday Scaries

At a Glance: You know that peculiar knot in your stomach that appears around 4pm on Sunday? The one that whispers, “Monday’s coming,” with all the menace of a Dementor in a business suit? You’re not imagining it, you’re not weak, and you’re certainly not alone. This article explores why even successful people—yes, the ones with the corner offices and impressive LinkedIn profiles—experience the Sunday scaries and Blue Mondays with remarkable regularity. We’ll unpack the science, share an unforgettable story, and offer practical wisdom for breaking free from the weekly cycle of dread. Whether you’re a CEO or an entrepreneur building your dream, understanding this phenomenon is your first step towards reclaiming your weekends and transforming your Mondays.

Five Key Takeaways

  1. The Sunday scaries affect 80% of professionals, with the anxiety typically peaking at 3:58pm on Sunday afternoons, making it a widespread biological and psychological response rather than a personal failing.
  2. Monday stress is measurably different in your body, with research showing heightened cortisol levels and a 19% increase in cardiovascular events on Mondays compared to other days of the week.
  3. Success doesn’t immunise you against anticipatory anxiety, which explains why even accomplished executives and entrepreneurs experience weekly dread despite loving their work and achieving remarkable results.
  4. The transition shock between weekend freedom and weekday structure activates your fight-or-flight response, creating genuine physical symptoms including racing heartbeats, shallow breathing, and exhaustion.
  5. Breaking the cycle requires addressing root causes, not just surface symptoms, including examining work-life boundaries, cognitive patterns, and the deeper question of alignment between your work and your purpose.

Introduction: The 4pm Sunday Apocalypse

Picture this: It’s Sunday afternoon, golden light slanting through the windows, the remains of a lovely lunch still on the table. You should be content. You’ve earned this rest. Yet there it is again—that familiar tightening in your chest, the mental fog rolling up like an unwelcome guest. Your mind begins its weekly inventory of everything waiting for you on Monday: the emails, the meetings, the decisions, the expectations.

Research shows this feeling typically kicks in around 3:58pm on Sundays, with such precision you’d think our bodies had been programmed by some cruel cosmic scheduler. The phenomenon has earned itself a name—the Sunday scaries—and if you’re experiencing it, you’re in remarkably good (or should I say, anxious) company.

Studies indicate that 80% of Americans experience the Sunday scaries, with higher rates amongst younger generations. But here’s what fascinates me: this isn’t just affecting people who hate their jobs. High achievers, successful entrepreneurs, beloved leaders—people who’ve worked incredibly hard to build careers they’re genuinely proud of—still find themselves dreading Monday morning with surprising intensity.

Why? And more importantly, what can we do about it?

Annie Willets’ Scary Story

Annie Willets sat in her tastefully appointed living room on a Sunday in late October. The room smelled of the cinnamon candles she’d lit earlier—her attempt at creating “hygge,” that Danish contentment she’d read about in one of those lifestyle magazines. Her hands cradled a cup of Earl Grey that had gone lukewarm twenty minutes ago, forgotten as her mind spiralled through Monday’s agenda like a tornado through a filing cabinet.

She could hear her children laughing in the garden, their voices bright as bells, and she wanted to go out there, to be present, to soak up these fleeting moments of their childhood. Instead, she sat frozen, her stomach performing acrobatics that would have impressed a Cirque du Soleil performer.

Annie was, by any reasonable measure, successful. At 42, she’d built a thriving consultancy firm that helped businesses navigate complex transformations. Her clients adored her. Her team respected her. She’d been featured in industry publications with titles like “The Woman Who Makes Change Happen.” Yet here she was, every Sunday without fail, feeling like a condemned prisoner counting down to execution.

The physical symptoms had become so predictable she could set her watch by them. First came the vague unease around lunchtime, subtle as a whisper. By 3pm, her shoulders had migrated up towards her ears, muscles taut as piano wire. Then came the nausea, the racing thoughts, the peculiar sensation of her skin feeling too tight for her body. Her husband, Tom, had stopped asking “What’s wrong?” because they both knew the answer: nothing specific, everything general, Sunday itself.

She’d tried all the recommended remedies. The Sunday evening yoga class (spent obsessing about Monday whilst pretending to find child’s pose relaxing). The elaborate meal planning (which only added “prep lunches for the week” to her mental load). The inspirational podcasts (which made her feel guilty for not being more grateful). Nothing touched the core of it.

What bewildered Annie most was the contradiction of it all. She genuinely loved her work. When she was in the thick of a challenging project, guiding a client through a breakthrough, she felt alive, purposeful, exactly where she was meant to be. So why did the mere anticipation of Monday feel like swallowing stones?

That particular Sunday, as the light continued its inevitable fade, Annie noticed something she’d never paid attention to before. Her youngest daughter, Grace, had come running in from the garden, cheeks flushed, leaves tangled in her hair, eyes shining with some magnificent discovery. “Mummy, come see! The spider built a web between the fence posts and the light’s making rainbows in it!”

Annie’s first thought—the one that arrived before she could intercept it—was: “I don’t have time. I need to review the presentation deck for tomorrow’s client meeting.”

But she caught herself. Sunday evening, nowhere she needed to be for another twelve hours, and her instinct was to refuse her daughter’s invitation to witness beauty. The realisation landed like a slap.

She followed Grace outside, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath her bare feet, the air carrying that peculiar October scent of decay and renewal intermingled. The spider’s web was indeed spectacular, stretched between two fence posts like nature’s own cathedral window, each strand catching the low sun and fracturing it into impossible colours.

“It’s extraordinary,” Annie whispered, crouching down to Grace’s height.

“Do you think she’s scared of Mondays?” Grace asked, with the kind of profound randomness that only seven-year-olds possess.

Annie laughed, surprising herself with the genuine sound of it. “I don’t think spiders have Mondays, darling.”

“Lucky,” Grace said solemnly, then ran off to find her brother.

Annie stayed there, studying that web, watching how it moved with the breeze, how remarkably resilient it was, how the spider had simply built what she needed and then settled in to wait with no apparent anxiety about what Monday morning might bring.

Later, when I heard Annie share this story in one of my storytelling circles—her voice catching as she described that moment of recognition—I saw heads nodding around the room. Successful people, creative people, people who’d built remarkable things, all of them trapped by the same invisible web of anticipatory dread, all of them forgetting to look at actual spider webs on Sunday evenings because they were too busy catastrophising about meetings that hadn’t happened yet.

Annie’s turning point came when she began to understand that her Sunday scaries weren’t really about Monday at all.

Understanding the Sunday Scaries: The Science of Anticipatory Dread

The Sunday scaries represent a form of anticipatory anxiety, which involves nervousness and dread about something that hasn’t happened yet. When you experience them, your adrenal glands release cortisol and adrenaline, flooding your system with stress hormones that create genuine physical symptoms—increased heart rate, difficulty breathing, headaches, and trouble sleeping.

What makes this phenomenon particularly insidious for successful executives and entrepreneurs is that it’s often unrelated to job satisfaction. Studies show that even employees who genuinely like their jobs experience Sunday night anxiety, which explains why Annie Willets could simultaneously love her work and dread the week ahead.

The transition from weekend relaxation to work mode represents a challenging 180-degree turn. During weekends, your cognitive load decreases significantly. No alarm clocks, no commutes, no boss checking in, no constant demands on your attention. Your nervous system settles into a different rhythm. Then Sunday evening arrives, and your body begins preparing for the dramatic shift back to high-performance mode.

Research indicates that 74% of those experiencing Sunday scaries report their feelings increased due to economic uncertainty, whilst 37% cite being more overwhelmed at work than ever before. For entrepreneurs and executives, these pressures compound. You’re not just responsible for your own performance; you’re often carrying the weight of entire teams, clients, stakeholders, and business outcomes.

The really sobering data? Research shows that far more heart attacks occur on Mondays and Sundays than on any other day of the week, suggesting that Sunday anxiety and Monday stress create genuine physiological risks. Studies across entire countries have found a 19% increase in the odds of sudden cardiac death from confirmed heart attacks and other cardiovascular events on Mondays.

Why Blue Mondays Hit High Achievers Particularly Hard

Here’s the paradox: the very qualities that make you successful—high standards, deep responsibility, commitment to excellence—also make you more vulnerable to Blue Mondays. Research suggests that the Monday blues affect how a person responds to stress, with people approaching and reacting to stressors differently at the beginning of the week than at the end.

Recent research has discovered that people who report feeling anxious on Mondays show evidence of heightened activity in the body’s stress-response system over months. Even more concerning, scientists have found that for some people, Monday anxiety becomes so routine that it becomes an automatic bodily response, one that persists even when the original trigger is gone.

This means years of Sunday scaries and Blue Mondays can literally reshape your stress response system, creating a conditioned reaction that continues even after circumstances change. It’s like Pavlov’s dog, except instead of salivating at a bell, you’re experiencing cortisol spikes at the mere sight of Sunday evening.

For entrepreneurs, there’s an additional layer. You chose this path. You built this business or career from nothing. You’re supposed to be living your dream, so admitting that Sunday evenings fill you with dread feels like betraying everything you’ve worked for. The shame compounds the anxiety.

Breaking Free: Addressing the Root Causes

Through my work with storytelling circles, I’ve watched countless successful people wrestle with this question: If I’m doing work I believe in, work that matters, work I chose—why does it still feel like Sunday evenings are trying to suffocate me?

The answer, I’ve discovered, usually isn’t about adding more self-care rituals or productivity hacks. It’s about examining some deeper questions:

Are you truly aligned with your purpose, or are you performing someone else’s definition of success? Sometimes we build impressive careers on foundations we never consciously chose. We inherit expectations—from family, from culture, from our younger selves who didn’t know what we know now. The Sunday scaries can be your inner wisdom whispering that something fundamental needs examination.

Have you created healthy boundaries, or have you let work colonise every corner of your life? The ability to truly switch off has become harder than ever, with many employees tempted to peek at emails or chat apps on Sunday to find out what the week will look like—which can worsen feelings of anxiety or dread. Technology has obliterated the walls between work and life, and for business owners, those walls were fragile to begin with.

Are you working from a place of approach motivation or avoidance motivation? Research shows that focusing on the beautiful, wonderful, desirable things you can accomplish at work can quiet the avoidance system and actually create excitement about Monday morning rather than dread. Ask yourself honestly: Am I moving towards something inspiring, or running from something frightening?

What stories are you telling yourself about Monday? Our minds excel at catastrophising. We imagine worst-case scenarios, difficult conversations, overwhelming workloads—most of which either don’t materialise or aren’t as terrible as we anticipated. Cognitive distortions like catastrophising and overgeneralising can significantly contribute to Monday anxiety.

The storytelling circles I facilitate have become powerful spaces for executives and entrepreneurs to explore these questions without the usual professional masks. When Annie Willets shared her spider web story, another participant—a tech CEO managing 200 employees—confessed he’d been secretly planning to sell his company simply to escape the Sunday scaries, without ever examining why he felt that way.

Through stories, we discover patterns. We recognise ourselves in each other’s experiences. We realise that success doesn’t mean the absence of struggle; it means having the courage to face what’s actually happening rather than what we’re performing.

Further Reading: Unconventional Wisdom for the Sunday-Scared Soul

“The Places That Scare You” by Pema Chödrön
This isn’t a business book, and that’s precisely why it belongs on this list. Chödrön, a Buddhist nun, writes about working with fear and uncertainty rather than against them. For executives experiencing Sunday scaries, her teachings on staying present with discomfort—rather than trying to escape it through distraction or toxic positivity—offer profound relief. She reminds us that anxiety is part of being alive and engaged with life, not evidence that something’s wrong with us. This book taught me that the Sunday scaries might not be a problem to solve but an invitation to examine what matters.

“Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle” by Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski
The Nagoski sisters explain something crucial that most productivity advice misses entirely: completing the physiological stress cycle. They distinguish between stressors (the things causing stress) and stress (the physical state in your body). You can remove every Monday stressor and still feel the Sunday scaries if you never complete the stress cycle. Their practical, science-based strategies for moving stress through your body—from exercise to creative expression to deep breathing—directly address why Sunday evening anxiety persists even when Monday morning isn’t objectively threatening. This book changed how I understand the physical manifestation of anticipatory anxiety.

“Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals” by Oliver Burkeman
Burkeman’s central thesis—that you have approximately 4,000 weeks on earth if you’re lucky—provides the most compelling reframe of Sunday scaries I’ve encountered. When you truly absorb the brevity of life, spending 52 evenings a year in anxiety-induced misery becomes intolerable. Not because you should optimise every moment for productivity, but because Sunday evening is life too. It’s not just the preamble to Monday; it’s one of your 4,000 weeks. Burkeman’s acceptance of limitation and inevitable incompletion offers surprising peace to achievement-oriented people who believe they should be able to do it all without stress.

A fromStory from a Circle

“Before joining the storytelling circles, I thought my Sunday anxiety meant I’d chosen the wrong career. I’d built a successful architecture firm from nothing, and yet every Sunday at 4pm like clockwork, I’d feel physically ill. The shame was almost worse than the anxiety itself. How could I admit that I dreaded Monday when so many people would kill for the opportunities I had?

Hearing others’ stories, particularly Annie’s spider web moment, helped me realise I wasn’t broken. The Sunday scaries weren’t a verdict on my career choices; they were a signal that I’d stopped distinguishing between urgent and important, between presence and performance. I’d let Sunday become nothing more than Monday’s waiting room.

Now, I protect Sunday evenings like a sacred ritual. No emails, no ‘quick prep work,’ no catastrophising about the week ahead. I cook elaborate meals, I read fiction, I literally go outside and look at actual nature—not as some wellness checkbox, but because I deserve to inhabit my life, not just endure it. The Mondays haven’t magically become perfect, but I’m no longer spending 15% of my week in anticipatory dread about them.”

— Sarah J., Architect and Founder, Bristol

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Is it normal to experience Sunday scaries even when I love my job?

Absolutely. The Sunday scaries affect people even when they genuinely like their jobs. The anxiety isn’t necessarily a referendum on your career choice; it’s often about the abrupt transition from weekend freedom to weekday structure, the weight of responsibility, or cognitive patterns that have become habitual over time. Loving your work and feeling anxious about Monday aren’t mutually exclusive experiences.

Q: At what point do Sunday scaries become a mental health concern rather than just normal work stress?

Whilst the Sunday scaries are common, if they’re causing significant distress or interfering with your ability to enjoy your weekend, it may be worth exploring strategies with a mental health professional. Warning signs include: physical symptoms that persist or worsen, complete inability to relax on weekends, intrusive thoughts about work that you can’t control, or Sunday anxiety that doesn’t diminish once Monday actually arrives. If your anticipatory anxiety never resolves when you face the thing you were worried about, that suggests something beyond typical Sunday scaries.

Q: Why do my Sunday scaries seem worse than other people’s, even though I’m more successful?

Success often intensifies rather than alleviates Sunday scaries because you’re carrying more responsibility, making higher-stakes decisions, and often have fewer people who understand your unique pressures. Additionally, achievement-oriented people tend to have perfectionist tendencies and heightened sensitivity to potential failure. You may also be more skilled at appearing confident externally whilst managing significant internal anxiety—remember, surveys show up to 90% of millennials and Gen Z report experiencing Sunday scaries, so you’re likely surrounded by people hiding the same feelings.

Q: Will changing jobs or careers solve my Sunday scaries?

Sometimes, but not always. If your Sunday anxiety stems from genuine misalignment—you’re in the wrong role, toxic environment, or work that violates your values—then change might be necessary. However, research shows that some people’s Monday anxiety becomes so routine that it persists even when the original trigger is gone. Before making dramatic career changes, explore whether the issue is the work itself or your relationship with work, your boundaries, your cognitive patterns, or unprocessed stress in your nervous system.

Q: What’s the single most effective strategy you’ve seen for reducing Sunday scaries?

There isn’t one universal solution because the root causes vary so significantly. However, the pattern I’ve observed in people who successfully transform their Sundays involves shifting from avoidance to approach. Research shows that focusing on positive outcomes and excitement about what you can accomplish, rather than dreading potential problems, can significantly reduce anticipatory anxiety. This doesn’t mean toxic positivity; it means examining whether you’re running towards something you value or away from something you fear. Combined with genuine boundary-setting and completing your stress cycles physically, this approach-orientation creates sustainable change.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Sunday Evening

The Sunday scaries and Blue Mondays aren’t character flaws. They’re not evidence that you’re weak, ungrateful, or insufficiently resilient. They’re signals—sometimes quiet whispers, sometimes screaming sirens—that something in your relationship with work, time, or purpose needs attention.

For successful executives and entrepreneurs, acknowledging these feelings can feel like admitting failure. You’ve worked so hard to build something meaningful. You’re supposed to be beyond this sort of thing. But perhaps that’s precisely backwards. Perhaps the willingness to sit with your Sunday evening anxiety, to examine it with curiosity rather than judgment, to tell the truth about your experience—that’s what genuine success looks like.

Annie Willets, standing in her garden that October evening, watching rainbows fracture through spider silk, discovered something that years of productivity advice had never taught her: presence is not a reward you earn after completing all your tasks. It’s a choice available in any moment, including 4pm on Sunday afternoon.

Your Sunday scaries might not disappear entirely. They might be companions on your journey rather than problems to solve. But they don’t have to steal 15% of your week. They don’t have to poison your rest with anticipation of battles that rarely materialise as feared.

The spider in Grace’s web didn’t dread Monday. She simply built what she needed and settled in to wait, responding to each moment as it arrived rather than catastrophising about moments yet to come. There’s wisdom in that patience, that presence, that refusal to mortgage today’s peace for tomorrow’s imagined problems.

What if you approached Sunday evening not as Monday’s waiting room, but as its own complete experience, worthy of your full attention? What if you protected it fiercely, not as another wellness task to optimise, but as sacred time that belongs to you and no one else?

The work will be there Monday morning. It always is. But Sunday evening—this Sunday evening, one of your precious 4,000 weeks—is happening right now. What would it feel like to actually be in it?

Discover the Purpose Protocols: Transform Your Relationship with Monday

The Sunday scaries often signal something deeper than poor time management or insufficient self-care. They whisper that you’re living out of alignment with your authentic purpose, trapped in patterns that no longer serve you, performing a version of success that someone else wrote for your life.

The Purpose Protocols aren’t another productivity system promising to squeeze more efficiency from your already overstretched schedule. It’s a transformative online courses, with optional one-to-one support, designed specifically for successful executives and entrepreneurs who’ve achieved everything they thought they wanted, yet still find themselves dreading Monday morning.

Through a carefully designed series of modules combining storytelling, reflective practices, and practical frameworks, you’ll explore:

Uncovering Your Authentic Purpose: Move beyond inherited expectations and societal definitions of success to discover what genuinely lights you up and gives your life meaning. We use narrative techniques from my storytelling circles to help you identify the patterns and values that have shaped your journey, often hidden beneath years of professional performance.

Redesigning Your Relationship with Work: Learn to distinguish between healthy achievement and toxic productivity, between presence and performance. You’ll develop practical strategies for setting boundaries that honour both your ambitions and your humanity, creating space for rest without guilt.

Completing Your Stress Cycles: Understand the neuroscience behind why Sunday scaries persist even when Monday isn’t objectively threatening, and learn evidence-based techniques for moving stress through your body rather than carrying it into each new week.

Creating Approach-Oriented Goals: Shift from running away from fear towards moving toward what excites and inspires you. This fundamental reframe transforms not just your Sundays, but your entire relationship with your work and life.

This isn’t about abandoning your ambitions or lowering your standards. It’s about ensuring those ambitions are truly yours, and that the path toward them nourishes rather than depletes you. Because you didn’t build something extraordinary just to spend every Sunday evening dreading it.

Your Mondays deserve better. More importantly, you deserve better.

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol – if you want to discover your life purpose, this course will provide you with the clarity, motivation and direction you need to manifest your next chapter – in both your personal and professional life. Get immediate access

The Purpose Pivot Protocol – drawing inspiration from the Camino de Santiago, this transformative course guides you through a proven framework to recalibrate your authentic purpose and create a meaningful and fulfilling next act. Get immediate access

The Purpose Pivot Protocol honours your journey whilst challenging you to question whether the destination is truly where you want to go. Because sometimes the bravest thing a successful person can do is admit that Sunday evening shouldn’t feel like this.

Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu – described as a “game changer”, “gifted healer”, “guiding light” and “life-enriching author” – is an experienced medical doctor, a certified NLP practitioner, a medical hypnotherapist, an equine-assisted psychotherapist (EAGALAcertified) and a transformational retreat leader who guides her clients through life transitions – virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

References

How to ward off the ‘Sunday scaries’ before the new week begins by prof Jolanta Burke, Centre for Positive Psychology and Health, RCSI University of Medicine and Health Science

Grupe DW, Nitschke JB. Uncertainty and anticipation in anxiety: an integrated neurobiological and psychological perspective. Nat Rev Neurosci. 2013 Jul;14(7):488-501.

Abend, R., Gold, A. L., Britton, J. C., Michalska, K. J., Shechner, T., Sachs, J. F., Winkler, A. M., Leibenluft, E., Averbeck, B. B., & Pine, D. S. (2019). Anticipatory Threat Responding: Associations with Anxiety, Development, and Brain Structure. Biological Psychiatry, 87(10), 916.

Yoshimura, S., Okamoto, Y., Yoshino, A., Kobayakawa, M., Machino, A., & Yamawaki, S. Neural Basis of Anticipatory Anxiety Reappraisals. PLOS ONE9(7), e102836.

Empty Nest? Time to spread your Wings

Coping with an empty nest

A Guide to Rediscovering Yourself When the Kids Leave Home

The Sharp Overview: What You’re About to Read

So the last child has packed their dubiously laundered clothes, grabbed their childhood teddy bear (the one they swore they’d outgrown), and driven off into their independent future. You stand in the doorway, waving like the Queen at a garden party, smiling bravely. Then you close the door, turn around, and face a house that suddenly echoes with one terrifying question: “Who on earth am I without my children to define me?”

Empty nests hit high-achieving executives, entrepreneurs, or professionals who have been expertly juggling boardroom presentations and parent-teacher conferences differently. You’ve spent decades being brilliant at everything—except perhaps preparing for this moment. This article explores why successful people often struggle most with empty nest syndrome, how this disorientation can become your greatest transformation yet, and what to do when your identity seems to have left home along with your children.

Spoiler alert: This isn’t the end of your story.

Five Key Takeaways for the Disoriented Empty Nester

  1. Identity confusion is proportional to success elsewhere. The more competent you’ve been at managing multiple roles, the more disoriented you’ll feel when one of those primary roles disappears. This isn’t weakness—it’s the natural result of having invested heavily in something meaningful.
  2. Empty nest syndrome deserves serious attention. Just because others might say “at least you have healthy children who can leave home” doesn’t diminish your genuine grief and confusion. Successful people often minimise their own emotional needs—don’t fall into that trap.
  3. This transition is a forced sabbatical from who you’ve been. Use it. Your children’s departure creates space for the parts of yourself you’ve postponed, forgotten, or not yet discovered. The question isn’t “who am I?” but rather “who might I become?”
  4. Community impact begins with personal transformation. When you navigate this transition authentically, you model emotional intelligence for everyone around you—your colleagues, your still-nested friends, and paradoxically, your adult children who are watching how you handle change.
  5. Grief and excitement can coexist. You can simultaneously mourn the end of active parenting while feeling genuinely thrilled about your newfound freedom. Both emotions are valid. Both are true. Learning to hold contradictions is advanced emotional work.

Introduction: The Identity Crisis Nobody Warns You About

You’ve survived sleepless nights with colicky infants, navigated teenage rebellion with the diplomatic skills of a UN negotiator, and somehow managed to close million-dollar deals while mentally calculating whether you’d bought enough milk for breakfast. You’ve been extraordinary at being everything to everyone.

Then one Tuesday morning, you wake up and realise nobody needs you to sign a permission slip, drive them anywhere, or give an opinion about their life choices. The silence is deafening.

Here’s what’s particularly cruel for high-achievers: you’ve probably handled every other major life transition with strategic planning and executed action items. You approached parenthood like a project, researched childcare options like you were preparing a market analysis, and scheduled your children’s activities with the precision of a military campaign. But somehow, nobody mentioned that when the project ends, the project manager would face an existential crisis.

This isn’t about missing your children (though you do). It’s about suddenly confronting the question you’ve been too busy to ask for two decades: without the role of “parent” front and centre, who are you really?

As someone who has spent twenty years as a physician specializing in stress management, fifteen years hosting walking retreats on the Camino de Santiago, and countless hours in storytelling circles listening to accomplished people unravel this very question, I can tell you this: the empty nest identity crisis is real, it’s profound, and it might just be the gift you didn’t know you needed.

Margaret’s Story: The Day the House Fell Silent

For two decades, Margaret’s life had been a symphony of chaos—bickering, blenders, and shouting boys. Now, there was only silence.

Everyone had warned her about empty nest syndrome. “Oh, it’s hard at first,” they said, “but then you rediscover yourself.” Margaret had no idea how she was supposed to do that.

On Monday, determined to be proactive, she made a list titled Operation Reinvention. It included:

  1. Start yoga.
  2. Learn French.
  3. Write a memoir.

By Wednesday, she had pulled a hamstring, told Duolingo’s passive-aggressive owl to “mind its own damn business,” and realised her memoir consisted mostly of snack distribution adventures.

By the second week, she started talking to the furniture. “Well, aren’t you looking particularly supportive today,” she said to the couch, sinking into it with a family-sized bag of crisps and a nostalgic episode of Gilmore Girls.

Then came The Great Closet Purge. Every empty-nester’s rite of passage. She approached her children’s rooms like an archaeologist excavating the remains of a lost civilisation—complete with strange artefacts: a fossilised sandwich, a prom corsage(?!), seventeen mismatched socks, and a mysterious note that read “Don’t tell Mom.” (Tell Mom what, exactly?)

When that didn’t help, she joined a local book club. Big mistake. It wasn’t really a book club—it was a covert wine syndicate with occasional literary references. Sheila was apparently divorcing Gary (who no one liked anyway), and Greg’s banana bread had become a political issue. The only book anyone could recall was Eat, Pray, Pour Another Merlot.

Her next bright idea was to reconnect with her husband. Poor Roger. He’d been quietly minding his own business, enjoying the rare luxury of watching football without interruptions. Suddenly, Margaret was there. All the time. Suggesting “fun couple activities.”

“Let’s take a pottery class!” she announced one evening.
Roger, who had survived 25 years of PTA meetings, instantly recognised danger. “How about darts?” he countered.

They compromised on a cooking class, which ended with Margaret flambéing her sleeve and Roger bravely eating burnt risotto.

The turning point came one afternoon while she was scrolling through social media, nursing her third cup of coffee and her growing sense of irrelevance. She stumbled across a post from her daughter: “Miss you, Mom. Thanks for always believing in me.”

Margaret blinked. Then smiled. Because maybe—just maybe—the silence wasn’t empty after all. Maybe it was space. Space to breathe, to rediscover, to reinvent. An invitation to remember who she was before she was everyone’s breakfast chef, chauffeur, therapist, and human GPS.

That night, she lit a candle, poured another glass of the “special occasion” wine.

“To me,” she said, raising her glass. “To rediscovery. To reinvention. And to never having to label another lunchbox again.”

She opened her journal and wrote:
“Dear Me, congratulations—you survived child-rearing, adolescence, and gluten-free meal planning. If you can survive this, you can survive anything.”

Her words stirred something — a faint memory, like the rustle of wind through cypress trees.

Last spring, Margaret had attended a stress-management retreat on the Camino de Santiago — a gift from a well-meaning colleague who’d told her she needed “soul maintenance.” At the time, she’d rolled her eyes. But something unexpected had happened out there, walking under French skies with strangers who quickly stopped feeling like strangers.

The retreat leader had asked everyone to tell the story of a life transition. Margaret had chosen motherhood. She’d described the fear and fierce love, the exhaustion and joy, the complete identity collapse and rebuild.

The retreat leader had listened quietly, then said, “On the Camino, every ending is also a beginning.”

Corinne hadn’t understood it then. But now, sitting on her support coach, the words returned with startling clarity.

This was her new Camino — not the one lined with vineyards and sunflower fields, but an invisible path stretching ahead through her own uncertainty.

Now, unburdened by curfews and permission slips, was free to discover who she might be next.

Understanding the Empty Nest Identity Crisis

The empty nest phenomenon affects everyone who’s raised children, but high-achieving professionals often experience it with particular intensity. Why? Because you’ve spent decades being exceptional at simultaneous role management. You’ve been the executive and the parent, the entrepreneur and the homework helper, the professional and the person who remembered that Tuesday was violin lesson day.

Your identity has been complex, multi-layered, rich. When one of those layers—arguably the most emotionally significant one—suddenly dissolves, the entire structure feels unstable.

Here’s what research and two decades of clinical experience have taught me: the grief of the empty nest isn’t really about missing your children (though you do). It’s about losing a version of yourself that felt purposeful, needed, and central to someone else’s daily existence.

For successful people, this hits particularly hard because you’re used to being in control. You’ve built careers on your ability to anticipate challenges, create solutions, and execute plans. But your children’s departure isn’t something you can strategy-meeting your way through. It’s a fundamental life transition that requires not just adaptation but transformation.

The Broader Impact: How Your Transformation Affects Your World

When you navigate this transition authentically—when you allow yourself to grieve, question, and ultimately reinvent—you create ripples far beyond your own experience.

Your colleagues watch how you handle change. In a work culture that often demands we pretend personal life doesn’t affect professional performance, your honest engagement with this transition models emotional intelligence.

Your community benefits when you redirect parenting energy toward broader engagement. Some of the most effective community leaders, mentors, and change-makers are people who’ve moved through the empty nest transition and discovered new ways to channel their nurturing abilities.

Your adult children observe how you handle this ending. They’re learning from you—again—about resilience, about allowing yourself to be imperfect, about the courage it takes to ask “who am I now?” and wait for an answer that feels true.

And perhaps most importantly, you give yourself permission to evolve.

Take your time. Then spread your wings.

In a society that often treats ageing as a process of diminishment, you can model something different: ageing as freedom, as the beginning of chapters you couldn’t have written before.

Three Powerful Writing Prompts for Empty Nesters

Prompt 1: The Letter to Your Younger Self

Write a letter to yourself on the day your first child was born. Tell that younger you what you’ve learned, what you’d do differently, and what you’d do exactly the same. Then write what you wish a younger version of yourself could tell you now about who you were before you became a parent. What did that person love? Dream about? What got lost in the busy years that might be worth recovering?

Prompt 2: The Calendar Exercise

Draw or describe your ideal week five years from now. Don’t include any “should” activities—nothing you think you ought to do. Include only things that make you feel alive, curious, or engaged. Who are you spending time with? What are you learning? What are you creating? Let yourself imagine without the constraints of your current reality.

Prompt 3: The Epitaph Question

This sounds morbid but it’s remarkably clarifying: What do you want people to say about you after you’re gone? When your children speak about you to their own children, what qualities do you hope they remember? Now ask yourself: are you living in a way that develops those qualities? If not, what needs to change?

Further Reading: Five Unconventional Books for Empty Nesters

1. “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron

Yes, it’s technically about creative recovery, but I recommend this for empty nesters because it addresses the fundamental question of identity reconstruction. Cameron’s twelve-week program helps you rediscover buried creative impulses and desires—exactly what you need when a major life role ends. The morning pages practice is particularly valuable for processing the complex emotions of this transition.

2. “The Second Mountain” by David Brooks

Brooks writes about the difference between first-mountain goals (career, success, achievement) and second-mountain purposes (relationship, community, depth). For accomplished empty nesters who’ve conquered the first mountain, this book offers a framework for thinking about what comes next that’s more meaningful than simply staying busy.

3. “Women Who Run With the Wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

This exploration of wild woman archetypes through storytelling helps midlife women reconnect with parts of themselves that got domesticated or suppressed during the intensive parenting years. Estés’ work reminds us that we contain multitudes, and that the fierce, creative, instinctual self doesn’t disappear—it just waits to be reclaimed.

4. “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown

Brown’s work on vulnerability and wholehearted living speaks directly to the empty nest experience. Her research shows that people who navigate transitions successfully are those who can acknowledge grief while remaining open to joy. For perfectionistic high-achievers, this book offers permission to be messy in your process.

5. “Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes” by William Bridges

This classic distinguishes between change (external) and transition (internal). Bridges identifies three phases: ending, neutral zone, and new beginning. Understanding that you’re in the neutral zone—that uncomfortable space between identities—can help you stop trying to rush through it and instead use it as the transformative space it’s meant to be.

P.S. My own book, “Embracing Change – in 10 Minutes a Day,” offers practical, brief exercises for navigating any major life transition. It’s designed specifically for busy people who need tools that fit into real life.

Guest Testimonials: Real Women, Real Transformations

From a Camino Walking Retreat Guest:

“I came to Dr. Montagu’s Camino retreat six months after my youngest left for university, feeling completely unmoored. I’d been a pediatric surgeon for twenty-five years AND an intensely involved mother—I thought I knew who I was. The empty nest revealed I’d been using both roles to avoid asking deeper questions about myself.

Walking the Camino, I finally let myself feel the grief I’d been intellectualising. The daily mindfulness practices helped me stay present with uncomfortable emotions instead of strategising around them. But what truly transformed me was the storytelling circle. Hearing other accomplished women voice the same fears and questions I’d thought were my unique failure made me realise this transition was normal, not a personal weakness.

Six months later, I’ve started painting again—something I loved in my twenties but abandoned as ‘impractical.’ I’ve also begun mentoring young female physicians, channelling my nurturing energy in new directions. The empty nest didn’t diminish me. It gave me back to myself.”
Patricia H., London

From a Storytelling Circle Member:

“Dr. Montagu’s storytelling circles literally saved me from a midlife crisis that would have involved expensive mistakes. I’d been contemplating radical changes—quitting my job, moving abroad, anything to fill the void my children’s departure had created.

In the circle, with Dr. Montagu’s horses grazing nearby (something about their calm presence made it easier to be vulnerable), I told the story of my children leaving. But as I spoke, I realized I was really telling the story of how I’d lost myself gradually over twenty years, and how I’d blamed them for a disappearance I’d orchestrated.

The other women in the circle asked me questions I hadn’t asked myself: What brought me joy before children? When did I last feel creative? What would I do if nobody else’s opinion mattered? Through their witnessing—not advice-giving, just authentic listening—I found my own answers.

I didn’t quit my job or move abroad. Instead, I renegotiated my role to create more flexibility, started a book club focused on books I actually want to read (not ‘important’ books), and reconnected with friends I’d neglected. The storytelling circle taught me that transformation doesn’t require drama. Sometimes it just requires honesty.”
Margaret L., Manchester

Five Razor-Sharp FAQs

Q1: Is it normal to feel relieved when my children leave, even though I also feel sad?

Absolutely, unequivocally normal. Emotions aren’t mutually exclusive. You can simultaneously grieve the end of intensive parenting, feel relieved about reclaiming time and energy, worry about your children’s wellbeing, and feel excited about your newfound freedom. Humans are capable of holding contradictory feelings. The problem comes when we think we should feel only one “appropriate” emotion and then judge ourselves for feeling everything else. Relief doesn’t mean you didn’t love parenting. Sadness doesn’t mean you’re not ready for this transition. Both are true. Let them coexist.

Q2: My identity has been so wrapped up in being a parent that I don’t remember who I was before. How do I start?

Start with curiosity rather than pressure. You’re not trying to excavate a fossilised earlier self—you’re discovering who you’re becoming now, which includes all the growth and wisdom you’ve gained through parenting. Try this: notice what catches your attention during an ordinary day. What makes you pause? What do you find yourself thinking about in the shower? What topics make you want to learn more? These small moments of genuine interest are breadcrumbs leading you toward your current authentic self, not your previous one.

Q3: I feel guilty about focusing on myself when I should be happy my children are thriving. What’s wrong with me?

Nothing is wrong with you. This is another example of unnecessary emotional policing. Your children thriving and you struggling with identity transition are not incompatible facts. You can be genuinely happy for their independence while grieving what you’ve lost. Here’s a reframe: by doing the work of rediscovering yourself, you’re modelling for your adult children that life is a series of transformations, not a single destination. You’re teaching them that it’s possible to honour endings while embracing new beginnings. That’s a gift.

Q4: My partner/spouse and I seem to be handling this differently, and it’s creating tension. Is this normal?

Completely normal, and actually an opportunity for deeper connection if you approach it with curiosity rather than judgment. Different attachment styles, different parenting intensities, and different needs for purpose all mean you’ll navigate this transition differently. The key is communication without criticism. Instead of “you don’t understand what I’m going through,” try “I’m struggling with this transition more than I expected. Can we talk about what we’re each experiencing?” This might be a good time for couples counselling or a retreat that helps you renegotiate your relationship now that it’s not structured around coordinating children’s schedules.

Q5: How long does this identity crisis last? When will I feel normal again?

I understand the desire for a timeline, but transitions don’t work that way. Some people move through the disorientation in months; others take years. What I can tell you is this: the discomfort lessens when you stop trying to rush through it and instead let yourself inhabit it fully. The fastest way through is acknowledging where you are. “Normal” won’t feel like it used to feel because you’re not who you used to be—and that’s exactly the point. You’re not trying to return to a previous normal; you’re creating a new one. The question isn’t “when will this end?” but rather “what am I learning here that I couldn’t have learned any other way?”

Conclusion: It’s a Doorway, Not a Dead End

You’re standing in a doorway. Behind you is the country of intensive parenting—a place you know intimately, with all its demands, joys, terrors, and profound meaning. Ahead of you is territory you haven’t mapped yet. Of course you’re disoriented. Of course you’re asking “who am I now?”

But here’s what I’ve learned from twenty years as a physician specialising in stress management, fifteen years hosting walking retreats, and countless conversations in storytelling circles: this question is not a crisis to be solved. It’s an invitation to be answered.

The empty nest doesn’t diminish you. It offers you back to yourself—older, wiser, carrying the depth that only comes from loving something beyond yourself so intensely for so long. You’re not losing your identity; you’re shedding an outdated version to make room for who you’re becoming.

Your children don’t need you to remain the person you were when they needed you most. They need you to show them what it looks like to evolve, to ask hard questions, to reinvent yourself while honouring what came before.

This is not the end of your story’s best chapters.

So stand in the doorway a little longer. Let yourself feel the grief and the anticipation. Ask the question “who am I now?” and then—this is crucial—wait for an answer that comes from your authentic self rather than from other people’s expectations or your own anxiety.

The second half of your life is waiting. And it might just be extraordinary.

A Special Invitation: The Camino, the Horses, and the Stories That Heal

If this article has resonated with you—if you’re standing in that doorway between identities and you need space to discover what comes next—I’d like to invite you to something that’s transformed empty nesters for fifteen years: my stress-busting life transition retreat in the breathtaking southwest of France.

This isn’t your typical wellness retreat with prescribed schedules and forced enthusiasm. This is about walking the Camino de Santiago at your own pace, with daily mindfulness and meditation practices specifically designed for stress management. But what makes this retreat unique are the storytelling circles, held in the presence of my Friesian and Falabella horses—creatures whose calm, non-judgmental presence has a remarkable way of making vulnerability feel safe.

In these circles, accomplished women like you tell the stories they haven’t been able to tell anywhere else. Stories about who they were before they became mothers. Stories about who they’re afraid they might not be anymore. Stories about the futures they’re beginning to imagine. The horses graze nearby, occasionally coming close as if to witness your truth-telling. There’s something about their presence that makes authentic conversation not just possible but inevitable.

The walking itself becomes meditative—a physical metaphor for the journey you’re on internally. Each day, you move forward, sometimes easily, sometimes with effort. You rest when you need to. You discover what pace feels right for your body, not someone else’s expectations. And slowly, step by step, you begin to hear yourself again beneath all the noise of who you thought you should be.

The retreat is limited to small groups because transformation happens in authentic connection, not performance. You’ll eat remarkable food (this is France, after all), sleep in comfortable accommodations, and have plenty of solitude if you need it. But you’ll also have the rare gift of being witnessed by women who understand exactly what you’re navigating because they’re navigating it too.

Past guests describe it as “the reset I didn’t know I desperately needed,” “a week that changed how I see the rest of my life,” and “the first time I felt like myself in years.” With more than forty testimonials on my website from people whose lives have been genuinely transformed, I can promise you this: you won’t leave this retreat the same person who arrived. You’ll leave clearer, more grounded, and more excited about who you’re becoming.

The empty nest can be an ending. Or it can be the beginning of your most authentic chapter yet.

10 Powerful Life Lessons Learned While Walking the Camino de Santiago a free guide filled with 10 not just “quaint anecdotes” or Instagram-worthy moments (though there are plenty of those) but real transformations from real people who walked the same insight-giving trail you might want to walk one day – Subscribe to my monthly newsletter to Download the Guide

The Purpose Pivot Protocol – drawing inspiration from the Camino de Santiago, this transformative course guides you through a proven framework to recalibrate your authentic purpose and create a meaningful and fulfilling next act. Get immediate access


Dr. Margaretha Montagu (MBChB) is an NLP Master and Medical Hypnotherapist with twenty years of experience in stress management. She has spent fifteen years hosting transformative walking retreats on the Camino de Santiago and has authored eight non-fiction books addressing divorce, loss, unexpected illness, and coping with life’s major crises. Her work combines medical expertise with deep understanding of the human spirit’s capacity for resilience and reinvention.

Resources

Khatir MA, Modanloo M, Dadgari A, Yeganeh LT, Khoddam H. Empty nest syndrome: A concept analysis. J Educ Health Promot. 2024 Jul 29;13:269. PMID: 39309983; PMCID: PMC11414866. This article provides a comprehensive definition of empty nest syndrome (ENS), outlining its stages (mourning to adaptation) and proposing avenues for clinical models and measurement.

Ahmadi Khatir M, Modanloo M, Dadgari A, Khoddam H, Yeganeh LT. Developing and identifying the psychometric properties of Empty Nest Syndrome Scale. BMC Psychol. 2025 Jul 7;13(1):743. Introduces the Miniature Empty Nest Syndrome (ENS) Scale, integrating psychological, neurobiological, and cultural aspects of ENS. Discusses the need for standardized assessment tools and diverse interventions.

Kabiri M, Namdari K, Abedi A. Psychological Resilience Level after Cognitive-Behaviour Therapy in Old People with Empty Nest Syndrome – A single-case Experimental Design. Clin Gerontol. 2023 May-Jun;46(3):446-456. Epub 2022 Aug 11. PMID: 35950313.

Mangla, J. & Sahai, A. (2024). Influence of Empty Nest Syndrome on the Quality of Life of Middle Aged Parents. International Journal of Indian Psychology, 12(2), 3597-3602.

Forget Retiring – Start Reconstructing

compass

A fresh perspective on life’s next chapter that transcends traditional retirement

The End of Retirement As We Know It

Jane stood at the edge of her office party, champagne in hand, as colleagues celebrated her 40-year career. The gold watch, the heartfelt speeches, the well-wishes for “enjoying her golden years.” Everything followed the traditional retirement script to perfection—except for the quiet dread building in Jane’s stomach.

“What now?” she wondered, forcing a smile while contemplating the boundless, unstructured decades ahead.

Jane isn’t alone. Millions of us approaching our 60s and beyond are discovering an uncomfortable truth: the conventional narrative around retirement—a hard stop to working life followed by decades of leisure—feels increasingly hollow, outdated, and even threatening to our sense of purpose and identity.

What if the entire concept of retirement is fundamentally flawed?

What if, instead of retiring, you’re ready to reconstruct?

Reconstruction: A Paradigm Shift

Reconstruction represents a profound shift in how we view the second half of life. Rather than seeing this stage as a winding down, reconstruction frames it as an intentional rebuilding—a time to deliberately craft your next chapter with purpose, meaning, and renewed vitality.

Unlike retirement, which focuses on what you’re leaving behind, reconstruction centres on what you’re moving toward. It’s not about the absence of work but the presence of purpose. Not about leisure alone, but about legacy, contribution, and continued growth.

The distinction matters because how we frame this life transition fundamentally shapes our experience of it. Research from the Harvard Study of Adult Development shows that people who maintain purpose and strong connections live longer, healthier lives than those who don’t—regardless of wealth or other advantages.

Consider these striking statistics:

  • 68% of recent retirees report struggling with their sense of identity and purpose in the first year
  • Retirees with a clear sense of purpose are 2.4x more likely to report high life satisfaction
  • 72% of Americans say they want to continue working in some capacity beyond traditional retirement age—not primarily for money, but for meaning

This isn’t just semantics—it’s about reclaiming control of your life’s narrative at a crucial juncture.

Why Traditional Retirement Is Failing Us

The modern concept of retirement is surprisingly recent, emerging in the late 19th century when life expectancy was dramatically shorter. Otto von Bismarck created the first state pension system in Germany in 1889, with retirement age set at 70—at a time when the average life expectancy was about 45 years.

Today’s reality is radically different:

  • Those of us turning 65 now can expect to live, on average, another 20+ years
  • Many will spend more time in “retirement” than they did raising children
  • Improved health means most can remain active and engaged well into our 90s

Traditional retirement was designed for a different era with different demographics. It was never meant to accommodate decades of post-career life. The model simply doesn’t scale.

Beyond the structural problems, traditional retirement carries psychological risks. Studies consistently show spikes in depression, alcoholism, and even suicide following retirement, particularly among those who strongly identified with their professional roles.

The abrupt transition from structured, purposeful days to unstructured free time often leads to what psychologists call “retirement shock”—a loss of identity, routine, social connection, and mental stimulation that can trigger serious decline.

Dr. Robert Butler, founding director of the National Institute on Ageing, noted: “For many people, retirement is a wasteland of boredom, lack of purpose, and marginality leading to psychological and physical decline.”

The Reconstruction Mindset

Reconstruction isn’t about superficial rebranding of retirement. It represents a fundamentally different approach to this life phase, characterised by five key mindset shifts:

  1. From Ending to Beginning: Rather than viewing this transition as the final chapter, seeing it as the opening of a new book entirely.
  2. From Withdrawal to Engagement: Instead of retreating from the world, finding new ways to participate and contribute meaningfully.
  3. From Rest to Reinvention: Moving beyond the earned-rest narrative to embrace continued growth and transformation.
  4. From Age-Defined to Purpose-Defined: Rejecting arbitrary age markers in favour of purpose-driven life transitions.
  5. From Financial Planning to Life Planning: Expanding focus beyond financial readiness to encompass psychological, social, and spiritual preparation.

Tom, a former corporate executive, exemplifies this mindset shift. At 63, instead of retiring to a golf community as he’d always assumed he would, he launched a mentoring program connecting established professionals with first-generation college students.

“I don’t think of myself as retired,” he explains. “I’ve reconstructed my life around what matters most to me now. I work fewer hours but with more impact. I have enough financially, so now I’m focused on creating enough meaning.”

The Three Phases of Reconstruction

Reconstruction isn’t a single event but a process that unfolds in stages:

Phase 1: Deconstruction

Before rebuilding comes the essential work of examining what parts of your current life should remain, what should be modified, and what should be released entirely. This phase involves:

  • Identity Examination: Separating who you are from what you do professionally
  • Value Clarification: Identifying your core values independent of career demands
  • Relationship Reassessment: Evaluating which relationships energize versus deplete you
  • Legacy Consideration: Honest reflection on what you want your life to have meant

During deconstruction, many discover that their genuine interests and values were partially obscured by professional demands and expectations. This phase often involves “trying on” different potential futures through short-term experiments, volunteer work, or informational exploration.

Maria, a former healthcare administrator, took six months to methodically explore potential directions before committing to any specific path. “I volunteered in three completely different fields, took classes in subjects I’d always been curious about, and had deep conversations with people living lives I found intriguing,” she says. “That exploration period was invaluable—it prevented me from jumping into something that looked good on paper but wouldn’t actually fulfil me.”

Phase 2: Foundation Building

With clarity about what matters most, the foundation phase focuses on establishing the essential infrastructure for your reconstructed life:

  • Purpose Articulation: Crafting a clear purpose statement that will guide decisions
  • Health Optimisation: Creating sustainable health routines for physical and mental vitality
  • Social Architecture: Building intentional communities aligned with your new direction
  • Knowledge Acquisition: Developing skills and understanding required for new pursuits
  • Resource Alignment: Ensuring financial and other resources support your vision

This phase often involves formal learning experiences, whether through traditional education, online courses, mentorships, or self-directed study. Many find the Foundation Building phase deeply energising as they acquire new competencies and connections.

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol offers structured guidance through this crucial foundation-setting work, helping individuals methodically build the infrastructure needed for a fulfilling next chapter rather than leaving this vital work to chance.

Phase 3: Active Construction

With clear direction and foundations in place, the final phase involves bringing your vision to life through deliberate action:

  • Prototype Projects: Testing smaller versions of your vision before full commitment
  • Feedback Integration: Gathering and applying insights from early experiments
  • Capacity Building: Gradually expanding your ability to execute your vision
  • Contribution Scaling: Systematically increasing your impact in chosen domains
  • Meaning Measurement: Regularly assessing fulfilment and adjusting accordingly

Unlike traditional retirement, which often begins with a vacuum of structure that retirees must fill, reconstruction builds momentum through progressive engagement with meaningful pursuits.

Robert, a former teacher, used this phased approach to transition from classroom education to environmental education focused on reconnecting adults with nature. “The structured process made all the difference,” he reflects. “Instead of feeling overwhelmed by possibilities, I methodically explored, tested, and refined my direction until I found something that truly resonated—both for me and for the people I hoped to serve.”

The Science of Purpose and Well-Being in Later Life

The reconstruction approach isn’t merely philosophical—it’s grounded in robust research on ageing, purpose, and well-being.

Studies consistently show that maintaining purpose in later life correlates with remarkable health benefits:

  • A 2019 JAMA Network Open study found adults over 50 with a strong sense of purpose had approximately half the risk of all-cause mortality compared to those with lower purpose scores
  • Research published in the journal Stroke demonstrated that high purpose in life was associated with a 22% reduced risk of stroke
  • Multiple studies link purposeful living with lower rates of Alzheimer’s disease and cognitive decline

Beyond physical health, purpose profoundly impacts psychological well-being. Research from Rush University Medical Centre found that individuals with high purpose scores were 2.4 times more likely to remain free of Alzheimer’s disease than those with low scores, even when post-mortem examinations revealed similar physical brain pathologies.

In essence: purpose seems to create resilience in the brain itself.

These findings suggest that reconstruction isn’t merely a nice alternative to traditional retirement—it may be essential for maintaining health and cognitive function as we age.

Nature: The Often Overlooked Element in Reconstruction

While purpose provides the psychological foundation for successful ageing, natural environments offer powerful physiological support for this life phase. Yet this crucial element is often overlooked in conventional retirement planning.

Research increasingly demonstrates nature’s profound effects on both psychological and physical well-being:

  • A 2019 study in Scientific Reports found that people who spent at least 120 minutes weekly in natural environments reported significantly better health and wellbeing
  • Research from the University of Chicago showed that even brief nature exposure reduced stress hormone production by 16%
  • Japanese research on “forest bathing” (shinrin-yoku) demonstrates significant immune system enhancement from time spent among trees

These benefits become increasingly valuable during life transitions when stress levels naturally increase. Nature immersion serves as both a relief valve and an enhancement technology, reducing transition-related stress while improving cognitive function and creativity—precisely the resources needed for successful reconstruction.

The integration of nature experiences with intentional purpose work creates a powerful synergy. Walking meetings in natural settings, purpose-focused retreats in wild places, and regular nature immersion practices can dramatically enhance the reconstruction process.

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol: A Structured Path to Reconstruction

While the concept of reconstruction offers a compelling alternative to traditional retirement, many struggle with how to actually implement this approach. The transition remains daunting without clear methodology.

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol addresses this gap by providing a structured framework for discovering and activating purpose in life’s second half. Unlike generic retirement planning focused primarily on financial considerations, this protocol integrates psychological, social, and spiritual dimensions into a comprehensive approach.

The protocol guides participants through sequential modules:

  1. Purpose Archaeology: Excavating clues to authentic purpose from throughout your life history
  2. Values Articulation: Identifying and prioritising core values to guide decision-making
  3. Strengths Integration: Leveraging natural talents and acquired skills toward purposeful ends
  4. Impact Clarification: Defining the specific contribution you’re uniquely positioned to make
  5. Experimental Design: Creating small-scale tests of potential directions before full commitment
  6. Momentum Building: Establishing systems that sustain engagement and progress
  7. Legacy Integration: Aligning daily activities with desired long-term impact

What distinguishes this approach is its balance of structure and flexibility. The protocol provides clear methodology while honouring each individual’s unique circumstances and aspirations.

Reconstruction in Action: Three Paths

Reconstruction takes many forms, reflecting the diversity of human interests and circumstances. These case studies illustrate different approaches to this life transition:

The Encore Career

David spent three decades in corporate finance before reconstructing his life around financial literacy for underserved communities. Rather than retiring completely, he reduced his workload to 20 hours weekly while developing and teaching financial education programs in partnership with community organisations.

“I’m using the same skills but serving a different purpose,” he explains. “The work energises rather than depletes me because it aligns perfectly with what matters most at this stage of life.”

His transition wasn’t immediate—it evolved through intentional experimentation over two years. He began by volunteering a few hours monthly, gradually increasing his involvement as he refined his approach and confirmed its fit with his purpose and values.

The Portfolio Life

Eleanor reconstructed her life around multiple part-time pursuits rather than a single focus. Her “portfolio” includes teaching one university course per semester, writing children’s books inspired by her previous career in marine biology, mentoring early-career scientists, and leading local conservation efforts.

“I need variety,” she explains. “Different activities fulfil different aspects of my purpose. Teaching satisfies my love of sharing knowledge, writing taps my creativity, mentoring allows for deep relationship building, and conservation work connects me to nature and community.”

Her approach required more complex planning but yields rich benefits through diverse forms of engagement and multiple sources of meaning.

The Clean Break

Michael made a complete transition from his legal career to focus entirely on artisanal woodworking—a passion he had only briefly explored in weekend workshops during his professional years.

“I needed psychological distance from my previous work to fully engage with this new chapter,” he shares. “For me, Reconstruction meant building something entirely new, not adapting elements of my former career.”

While his path involved more dramatic change, it followed the same methodical process of exploration, experimentation, and gradual commitment that characterises successful Reconstruction.

Common Obstacles to Reconstruction (And How to Overcome Them)

While Reconstruction offers a compelling alternative to traditional retirement, several common obstacles can derail the process:

Identity Attachment

Many professionals strongly identify with their careers, making separation painful and disorienting. This attachment can lead to either postponing transition indefinitely or experiencing profound loss when it occurs.

Solution: Gradually expand your self-concept through intentional exploration of non-professional interests and roles before transition becomes necessary. The Purpose Pursuit Protocol specifically addresses identity evolution through structured reflection and incremental experimentation.

Social Pressure

Well-meaning friends, family, and colleagues often project their own retirement expectations onto others, creating pressure to conform to traditional models.

Solution: Find a community with fellow “Reconstructors” who share your alternative vision. Immersive experiences like purpose-focused retreats can provide both the social support and the physical distance needed to clarify personal priorities apart from social expectations.

Analysis Paralysis

The sheer number of possible directions can overwhelm even the most decisive individuals, leading to prolonged inaction and missed opportunities.

Solution: Embrace structured experimentation rather than perfect planning. Small, time-limited tests of potential directions provide concrete experience to inform larger decisions without requiring premature commitment.

Deferred Preparation

Many postpone serious thought about post-career life until retirement itself, leaving insufficient time for the exploration and foundation-building phases of ReConstruction.

Solution: Begin the Reconstruction process at least 3-5 years before the anticipated career transition. Early preparation allows for more thoughtful exploration and a smoother transition.

The Financial Dimensions of Reconstruction

While Reconstruction emphasises purpose beyond finances, practical economic considerations remain important. Reconstructed lives take various financial forms:

  • Extended Earning: Many continue generating income through part-time work, consulting, or entrepreneurial ventures aligned with their purpose
  • Strategic Downshifting: Others intentionally reduce expenses through geographic relocation, downsizing, or simplified lifestyles that require less financial support
  • Phased Transitions: Some gradually reduce traditional work while building purpose-aligned activities, creating a financial bridge between chapters
  • Resource Pooling: Increasingly, groups form intentional communities or co-housing arrangements that reduce individual costs while enhancing social connection

These approaches reflect an important truth: financial and purpose considerations aren’t separate domains but interconnected aspects of life planning.

The integration of downsizing strategies with purpose exploration represents a particularly powerful combination. Physical downsizing often creates both the financial freedom and the psychological space necessary for meaningful Reconstruction.

Nature Immersion: Catalyst for Authentic Reconstruction

Natural environments provide ideal settings for the reflection and perspective-shifting required for effective Reconstruction. Away from familiar routines and environments, individuals often access deeper wisdom about their true priorities and potential contributions.

Walking-based experiences, in particular, offer unique benefits during major life transitions:

  • The bilateral stimulation of walking enhances cognitive processing and integration
  • Natural settings reduce stress hormones that otherwise impair clear thinking
  • Physical movement often unlocks insights inaccessible during sedentary reflection
  • Immersive experiences create clear boundaries between life chapters

These effects explain why walking pilgrimages like the Camino de Santiago have historically been associated with life transitions and meaning-making. The combination of extended walking, natural beauty, and removal from ordinary environments creates ideal conditions for perspective shifts.

Modern adaptations of these traditional practices, like guided purpose-focused walking retreats, offer structured experiences that combine the psychological benefits of nature immersion with intentional protocols for purpose discovery.

The “Nature Immersion: the Overlooked Anti-Ageing Elixir” walking retreat specifically integrates these elements, using the Camino experience as both metaphor and method for life transition while incorporating structured purpose exploration methodologies.

Beginning Your Reconstruction Journey

If the reconstruction approach resonates with your vision for life’s next chapter, consider these initial steps:

  1. Start with Why: Before focusing on what you’ll do or how you’ll do it, clarify why this transition matters to you personally. What deeper aspirations does it represent?
  2. Create a Transition Timeline: Map potential phases of your ReConstruction journey, working backwards from your ideal scenario to identify key decision points and preparation needs.
  3. Initiate Purpose Exploration: Begin systematic investigation of activities, causes, and contributions that might form the core of your reconstructed life.
  4. Build Your Learning Agenda: Identify knowledge and skills you’ll need to acquire for potential directions, and create a plan for developing them before they become critically necessary.
  5. Test and Refine: Design small experiments to test elements of your emerging vision before making major commitments.
  6. Seek Community: Connect with others in similar transitions who can provide perspective, accountability and support throughout the process.
  7. Consider Immersive Experiences: Explore structured programs specifically designed to facilitate this transition, particularly those incorporating both purpose methodology and nature immersion.

Remember that reconstruction isn’t something that happens to you—it’s something you actively create through intentional choices and systematic preparation.

Conclusion: From Retirement to Renaissance

The shift from traditional retirement to reconstruction represents more than a semantic change. It reflects a fundamental reimagining of life’s later chapters as periods of potential renewal, contribution, and continued growth.

When properly approached, this transition doesn’t merely extend productive years—it can elevate them to become the most meaningful and impactful period of life. Much like the historical Renaissance followed the Middle Ages with the extraordinary flourishing of human potential, personal reconstruction can initiate unprecedented flourishing in individual lives.

The key lies in approaching this transition not as an ending but as a deliberate beginning—a time to consciously construct the life you most want to live and the contribution you most want to make.

As you contemplate your own next chapter, consider: What if you’re not retiring at all? What if, instead, you start reconstructing?


To learn more about the Purpose Pursuit Protocol or upcoming “Nature Immersion: the Overlooked Anti-Ageing Elixir” Camino walking retreats, send an email to margarethamontagu@gmail.com.

Ready to start again, stronger than ever before? This quiz will help you find out. It is not just about measuring where you are right now; it’s about shining a light on the areas of your life that feel meaningful, as well as those that might need attention. It’s an opportunity to reflect, recalibrate, and take steps toward a life that’s not only successful but profoundly fulfilling. Take The Quiz

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol -a proven, structured process designed and tailor-made specifically for high-achievers who refuse to settle for surface-level success. We strip away the noise, the expectations, the external definitions of “making it,” and get to the core of what actually drives you. The work that electrifies you. The contribution that makes your life matter.

“I am an experienced medical doctor – MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract cert, Transformational Life Coach (dip.) Life Story Coach (cert.) Stress Counselling (cert.) Med Hypnotherapy (dip.) and EAGALA (cert.) I may have an impressive number of letters after my name, and more than three decades of professional experience, but what qualifies me to excel at what I do is my intuitive understanding of my clients’ difficulties and my extensive personal experience of managing major life changes using strategies I developed over many years.” Dr M Montagu

Join the Radical Renaissance Revolution

Renaissance Revolution

Isn’t it Time to Start Living in Alignment with Who You Are Now?

Why Join the Radical Renaissance Revolution?

Because you are ready for more than just survival—you are ready for reinvention, a fresh start, a next chapter and a life that feels undeniably yours.

It’s a movement designed for those who refuse to settle for mediocrity, who feel the pull of something greater, and who are ready to reclaim their power, purpose, and legacy.

If any of this resonates, the Radical Renaissance Revolution (RRR) is for you:

1. You are struggling with a Major Life Change/Event/Transition

What qualifies as a major life change? Starting or selling a business, moving to a different city or country, getting promoted, retiring from work, going through a divorce or separation, starting a new relationship after a breakup, recovering from an illness or injury, completing a major personal or professional project, losing a loved one or experiencing a significant bereavement, going back to school to pursue further education, changing careers or industries, downsizing, coming out or undergoing a gender transition, have empty nest syndrome as your children have moved out of the family home, recovering from addiction or going through rehabilitation, reentering the workforce after a career break, going through menopause or other significant hormonal changes, starting or ending a significant friendship, financially transitioning from dependence to independence, or taking on caregiving responsibilities for an ageing parent or family member has you searching for solid ground and a clear path forward. The RRR provides the roadmap to ensure you don’t just get through it—you rise from the wreckage stronger than ever before.

2. You Are Experiencing a Midlife Awakening

At a certain age, any time between 35 and 75, you start questioning what truly matters to you. The urgency to leave a legacy, make an impact, or contribute beyond yourself takes centre stage. This is where having a life purpose and living a meaningful life suddenly becomes essential. If you’ve hit this stage, it’s not a crisis—it’s an invitation. The Radical Renaissance Revolution helps you step into your most impactful chapter yet.

3. You Are Ready to Reinvent Yourself

Success isn’t enough if it no longer fits you. Whether you’re burned out, uninspired, or craving something different, this revolution equips you with the clarity and courage to pivot powerfully and on your terms. Reinvention isn’t just possible—it’s necessary.

4. You Seek Deeper, More Meaningful Connections

Purpose and relationships are inseparable. When you realign your life with what truly matters, the right people—your people—appear. The RRR doesn’t just help you find your purpose; it helps you find your tribe.

5. You Need a North Star for Your Next Chapter

The biggest transitions—career shifts, retirement, personal reinventions—can feel like free falls without direction. Whether you’re moving from empty nest to business owner, CEO to mentor, entrepreneur to philanthropist, or executive to artist, the RRR ensures your next move is intentional, aligned, and powerful.

6. You Want to Leave a Legacy That Matters

You refuse to waste your potential. You didn’t come this far just to plateau. The thought of looking back with regret—knowing you could have done more, contributed more, been more—is unacceptable. You start asking yourself: What am I really leaving behind? Wealth and accolades are temporary, but impact endures. The RRR ensures you direct your talents, influence, and ambition toward something that truly fulfils you. It helps you create a legacy that is meaningful, lasting, and uniquely yours.

7. You Need a New Source of Drive and Motivation

When external success stops fueling you, it’s time to look inward. A life without purpose feels stagnant—no matter how much you’ve achieved. Success gives you options, but it doesn’t guarantee happiness. If you feel restless, uninspired, or disconnected despite your success, it’s because achievement isn’t the same as alignment. This revolution isn’t about fixing something broken—it’s about unlocking the missing piece that turns success into true significance.


The Question Is Not “Why Join?”— It’s “Why Wait?”

If you see yourself in any of these, the Radical Renaissance Revolution is your answer. Your reinvention isn’t just possible—it’s inevitable. The only thing left to decide is whether you’ll step into it now or wait until the restlessness turns into regret.

The Radical Renaissance Revolution Step-by-Step

This isn’t just a series of isolated programs—it’s a step-by-step journey designed to transform every facet of your identity, so you move from crisis to clarity, from struggle to strength, and ultimately, from surviving to thriving. Each phase builds upon the last, ensuring you gain the necessary insights, tools, and momentum to evolve into your highest self.

1. Surviving a Life Quake Crisis Intervention
When life throws you a seismic disruption, immediate clarity is essential. This intervention provides the urgent stabilisation and actionable insights you need to navigate major life changes. It’s your launchpad, ensuring you’re not merely surviving but primed for transformation.

2. The Purpose Protocol
Once you’ve stabilised, it’s time to redefine your “why.” The Purpose Protocol helps you rediscover your core purpose and align your actions with your values. This step sets a clear direction, transforming chaos into focused energy and ambition.

3. The Road Map to Resilience
With your purpose redefined, building resilience becomes the next critical milestone. This roadmap equips you with strategies to develop unshakable inner strength, enabling you to face future challenges head-on. It transforms newfound purpose into enduring power.

4. iNFINITE iMPACT Manifesto
Armed with purpose and resilience, you then enter a phase of exclusive one-on-one high-level mentorship. This stage connects you with a top-tier guide who accelerates your growth, ensuring that your transformation translates into real-world impact. It’s where your inner evolution meets external success.

5. From Troubled to Triumphant
Culminating in a transformational retreat on the Camino de Santiago in the southwest of France, this immersive experience is the ultimate consolidation of your journey. Here, you step away from everyday distractions to solidify your growth in an environment designed for deep, reflective change.

6. Legacy Lab Catalyst
The final evolution focuses on crafting your lasting legacy. In this phase, you refine and amplify your impact, ensuring that your transformation creates a ripple effect in your personal and professional world—solidifying the mark of your Radical Renaissance Revolution.

Supporting Tools Along the Way:

  • Dr. Montagu’s Books (e.g., Embracing Change – In 10 Minutes a Day): Daily insights to reinforce your transformation.
  • Power-Packed Courses (e.g., Setting RockSolid Boundaries): Targeted lessons to build essential skills at each stage.
  • The Radical Renaissance Community: A high-caliber network offering ongoing support, accountability, and inspiration.

The Radical Renaissance Revolution is a step-by-step journey designed to guide you from crisis to a more meaningful and impactful life—but transformation isn’t always linear. You don’t have to start at the beginning. Whether you’re in the middle of a major life upheaval, seeking a renewed sense of purpose, or ready to build your legacy, you can step in at the phase that aligns with where you are right now. Each stage is powerful on its own, but having said that, the effect is most remarkable when the RRR is taken step-by-step.

Wherever you begin though, you’ll be exactly where you need to be.

Why You Move From One Step to the Next:

  • Immediate Crisis Resolution: You start by stabilising and gaining clarity during life’s most turbulent moments.
  • Purpose Discovery: Once stable, you harness that energy to uncover your deeper motivations.
  • Resilience Building: With a clear purpose, you fortify your inner strength to withstand future challenges.
  • Mentorship & Impact: Your enhanced resilience attracts high-level mentorship, accelerating tangible, real-world success.
  • Immersive Transformation: An exclusive retreat solidifies and magnifies your growth in a life-changing environment.
  • Legacy Creation: Finally, you refine your influence to ensure your transformation endures and inspires others.

Your Challenge:
This week, map out your own transformational journey by identifying which of the steps above you currently need to focus on. Click on the link and explore each step, discover what resonates. Then, take concrete action and join the program that will propel you to the next stage.

Are you ready to join the Radical Renaissance Revolution?

Imagine waking up every morning with absolute certainty that you’re on the right path—The RRR is about discovering the thread that weaves all your achievements, relationships, and aspirations, at this point of your life, together into a meaningful whole.

The fog lifts. The doubt dissolves.

Your transformation is deeply personal, touching every aspect of your life. Knowing your life purpose would give you a profound sense of clarity, fulfilment, and inner peace—a feeling that you’re finally living in alignment with who you truly are, not just what you’ve achieved.

You will feel:

Relieved: This sense of relief runs deeper than just checking a box. It’s like finally solving a puzzle that’s been nagging at you for years. Imagine that persistent feeling of “something’s missing” being replaced with absolute clarity. You’d understand not just what you want to do, but why you’re uniquely suited to do it. This relief would touch every aspect of your life, from career decisions to personal relationships.

Energised: This isn’t the temporary high of caffeine or a motivational speech you heard. It’s a sustainable, renewable energy that comes from within. When you’re aligned with your purpose, even challenging tasks feel invigorating rather than draining. You’d find yourself tackling projects with enthusiasm, not because you have to, but because they genuinely excite you. This energy would be contagious, inspiring others around you.

Liberated: Freedom from the golden handcuffs of success. Many high-achievers feel trapped by their own accomplishments, afraid to pivot or change direction. Understanding your purpose gives you permission to say no to “good” opportunities that don’t align with your true calling. You’d feel free to make unconventional choices without worrying about others’ judgments because you’d be grounded in your why.

Deeply Satisfied: This satisfaction goes beyond the fleeting pleasure of achievements. It’s a bone-deep contentment that comes from knowing your work matters. Instead of constantly seeking the next accomplishment, you’d find fulfilment in the process itself. Your actions would carry meaning beyond their immediate results, creating ripples of positive impact.

Peaceful: This peace isn’t passive—it’s a dynamic state of being where internal conflict dissolves. The constant questioning of “should I be doing something else?” would fade away. You’d face decisions with clarity, knowing they’re aligned with your values and long-term vision. Even in these challenging times, you’ll maintain an underlying sense of certainty about your direction.

Connected: This connection transforms how you relate to everything and everyone. Work becomes more than transactions; relationships deepen beyond surface-level interactions. You’d feel part of something larger than yourself, whether that’s your community, your industry, or a global movement. This sense of connection would inform every interaction, making even routine tasks feel meaningful.

Inspired: Purpose unleashes creativity in unexpected ways. You’d start seeing opportunities and solutions where others see obstacles. This inspiration would flow naturally, not forced, leading to innovative approaches in both your professional and personal life. Your unique perspective would allow you to contribute fresh ideas that others might miss.

Quietly Confident: This confidence isn’t arrogance—it’s clarity. When you know your purpose, decisions become simpler because you have a clear framework for evaluating opportunities. You’d move forward with conviction, even in uncertainty, because you’d trust your inner compass. This confidence would extend beyond career choices to all life decisions.

Grateful: This gratitude transforms your relationship with success. Instead of feeling like you’re always playing catch-up, you’d appreciate both where you are and where you’re heading. You’d recognize the value in your journey, including the challenges that shaped you. This gratitude would create a positive feedback loop, attracting more opportunities aligned with your purpose.

Powerful: This power comes from alignment rather than force. When your actions serve a greater purpose, your influence naturally expands. You’d find yourself making an impact not just through what you do, but through who you are. This authentic power would attract like-minded people and create opportunities for collaborative impact that extend far beyond your individual reach.

Each of these transformations builds on and reinforces the others, creating a positive spiral of growth and fulfilment. When you’re operating from purpose, these emotional states become your new normal, rather than temporary peaks you’re struggling to maintain.

“I am an experienced medical doctor – MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract cert, Transformational Life Coach (dip.) Life Story Coach (cert.) Stress Counselling (cert.) Med Hypnotherapy (dip.) and EAGALA (cert.) I may have an impressive number of letters after my name, and more than three decades of professional experience, but what qualifies me to excel at what I do is my intuitive understanding of my clients’ difficulties and my extensive personal experience of managing major life changes using strategies I developed over many years.” Dr M Montagu

The Purpose Pursuit Protocol -a proven, structured process designed and tailor-made specifically for high-achievers who refuse to settle for surface-level success. We strip away the noise, the expectations, the external definitions of “making it,” and get to the core of what actually drives you. The work that electrifies you. The contribution that makes your life matter.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or on the edge of burnout, you need immediate support. The Road Map to Resilience: Burnout to Brilliance online course (with the option of adding coaching sessions) is designed for exactly that: a practical, step-by-step course to help you regain control, rebuild your energy, and find clarity in the chaos. This isn’t a quick fix—it’s about proven strategies to calm your nervous system, shift your mindset, and create sustainable resilience. No need to cope with this on your own—let’s get you back on track.

Get rid of the nagging emptiness of “Is this all there is?” and step into a life where your accomplishments feel as purposeful, meaningful and fulfilling as they are impressive. This unique mentoring program empowers you to unearth the mission that sets your soul on fire and aligns your life with what truly matters to you—beyond success metrics and societal expectations.

Hit the pause button and regain your footing during a From Troubled to Triumphant Retreat. Imagine walking a peaceful stretch of the Camino de Santiago, where every step helps untangle the mental clutter or spending time with gentle Friesian horses who teach you the art of mindfulness. Whether you choose to make a change or are forced to, this retreat offers the perfect blend of peace, perspective, and playful exploration to help you rise from troubled to triumphant!

A New Life Cycle, A New Chapter

At the close of one chapter and the imminent start of another, there’s often a pause. This pause can feel unsettling and disorienting—a disruption in your carefully curated rhythm. Yet, it’s also a moment brimming with untapped potential, a chance to realign with what truly matters to you. As the usual rhythm of life—marked by successes, milestones, and relentless forward momentum—slows, in anticipation of upcoming changes, questions often arise.

“What’s next?”
“Where do I go from here?”
“Who am I now?”

It’s in this moment, ripe with both destabilising uncertainty and extraordinary potential, that a new cycle begins. It’s like upgrading to a more powerful operating system, this new cycle offers the chance to realign with the highest version of yourself—more authentic, more purposeful, more impactful and more fulfilled.

At the Start of a New Cycle

You’ve climbed mountains that others only dream of scaling. From the outside, your life looks impeccable: success, influence, and accomplishments that inspire awe. But standing on this summit can fill you with a mix of emotions. Excitement at the prospect of new opportunities. Fear of losing the identity tied to your achievements. Uncertainty about how to channel your energy into this new cycle.

You might wonder if these feelings mean you’re losing your mojo. They don’t. They mean you’re human. We often struggle in these moments, torn between staying at the top of our game and yearning for something deeper, something more meaningful and fulfilling.

Transitions can make you feel untethered, as your ambition comes up against your need to live a meaningful life. The start of a new cycle is not a time to abandon ambition but to channel it differently. It’s not a disruption to be feared but a transformation to be welcomed.

Manage a New Life Cycle

To navigate life cycles with intention, use these three guiding principles: pause, reassess, and experiment.

1. Pause

Life moves fast. And when you’re in the thick of it—career goals, family responsibilities, endless notifications pinging at you—it’s easy to lose sight of what actually matters. If you’re heading into a new cycle, whether it’s a career pivot, a relationship shift, or just trying starting/selling a business, the secret isn’t in the hustle. It’s in the pause.

Stopping can feel counterintuitive—unproductive, even threatening. But it’s in this stillness that clarity emerges. A pause isn’t a retreat; it’s recharging your batteries in preparation for your next leap forward.

Here’s how to press pause, recalibrate, and start asking the big, meaningful questions:

  • Dedicate Daily Time for Reflection This doesn’t mean you have to retreat to a mountain cabin or light a dozen candles (unless you want to). Reflection can be as simple as carving out 10 minutes a day for stillness. No phone. No distractions. Just you, a quiet spot, and your thoughts.

Think of it as defragging your mental hard drive. In those 10 minutes, you’ll likely start noticing things—patterns in your thinking, emotions you’ve been ignoring, or even that nagging little voice saying, Hey, maybe there’s more to life than emails and errands.

Consistency is key here. These moments aren’t about having life-changing epiphanies every single day (though that’s a bonus if it happens). They’re about giving your mind space to breathe and recalibrate, so you can approach life with clarity and intention.

  • Get Grounded with Mindfulness Meditation Let’s get one thing straight: mindfulness isn’t about turning your brain off. It’s about learning to be where you are, instead of mentally time-traveling to the past or future.

Start small. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on the feeling of your feet on the ground or the air moving in and out of your lungs. When your mind inevitably wanders (because, spoiler, it will), gently guide it back. No judgment, no frustration—just a little mental course correction.

Why does this matter? Because when you’re fully present, the noise in your head quiets down. You stop reacting on autopilot and start responding with intention. It’s like hitting “refresh” on your mental browser.

  • Go on: Ask Yourself the Big Scary Question: What Am I Truly Looking For? Most of us live on a loop, chasing goals we’ve never stopped to question. More money, more accolades, more… stuff. But when you strip it all away, what are you really after?

A new challenge?

A deeper connection to others?

A sense of purpose that doesn’t vanish when the workday ends?

Grab a journal (or a napkin, or the back of a receipt—whatever’s handy) and start writing. Let it be messy. Don’t censor yourself. If your first answer feels shallow, keep digging. Keep asking, What else? until you hit the core of what you want.

  • Turn Reflection Into Action Here’s the kicker: reflection without action is just daydreaming. Once you’ve got clarity, use it to steer your decisions. Does that new job align with your values? Does your daily routine support the life you’re trying to create?

Starting fresh doesn’t require a dramatic overhaul. Sometimes, it’s the small, intentional steps that create the biggest shift.

And if it feels overwhelming, remember: the goal isn’t to have all the answers. It’s to start asking better questions. From there, you can build a life that’s not just busy, but meaningful.

When you pause with intention, you’re not losing momentum—you’re ensuring that your next move is meaningfully and perfectly aligned.

2. Reassess Your Values

Here’s the truth nobody tells you about ambition: sometimes, the goals that once lit your fire start to feel like lukewarm leftovers. The title you chased, the dream project, the “perfect” life plan—it all sounded great at one point, but now? Meh. And guess what? That’s not failure. That’s growth.

Transitions aren’t the end of the road; they’re the scenic detour where you pull over, stretch your legs, and make sure you’re still heading in the right direction. They’re your chance to pause, take a breath, and ask the questions that really matter: Am I still pursuing what fuels me? Or am I chasing what I’ve outgrown—or worse, what someone else thinks I should want?

Here’s how to manage the process of reassessing your values and redefining success:

  • Redefine Success on Your Terms Society loves a checklist. Career milestones, financial benchmarks, picture-perfect family moments—check, check, and check. But success? That’s not one-size-fits-all. It’s personal. Deeply, almost uncomfortably personal.

Ask yourself: What does success feel like for me? Not look like—feel like. Is it freedom? Creativity? Impact? Sometimes, the answer isn’t flashy, and that’s okay. True success isn’t about meeting external expectations; it’s about living a life that energizes you, not just impresses others.

  • Reflect, Revise, Repeat Your values are like your internal GPS—when they’re dialed in, they guide every decision. But sometimes, life’s twists and turns knock them out of alignment. Here’s how to recalibrate:

List Your Priorities. Write down what you think matters most to you right now. Then, compare that list to the things that actually light you up. Are they aligned? Or are you spending time on things that drain you?

Relive Your High Points. Think back to moments when you felt completely fulfilled, when time seemed to disappear. What were you doing? Who were you with? What made those moments matter? These are clues to your core values.

Talk It Out. Deep conversations with trusted friends, mentors, or peers can be gold. Find people who won’t just agree with you but will challenge your thinking. They’ll help you see blind spots and uncover truths you might be avoiding.

  • Realignment Doesn’t Mean Reinvention Let’s clear something up: reassessing your values doesn’t mean trashing everything you’ve built. You don’t need to torch your past ambitions or regret the path you’ve taken. Those goals served you at one point—they got you here.

Realigning simply means making sure the foundation of your future is built on what you care about now. Maybe that means tweaking your career trajectory, prioritizing relationships, or scaling back on things that don’t serve you anymore. It’s evolution, not erasure.

  • Start Small, Stay Intentional You don’t need to have all the answers today—or ever. Realignment is an ongoing process, not a one-time event. Start by making one small decision that reflects your realigned values, and let that momentum build.

Remember, you’re not tied to the goals you set five, ten, or even two years ago. You’re allowed to grow, to change, and to chase new dreams. This is your life. Your definition of success. And the only person who gets to decide what that looks like is you.

So go ahead: revisit your values, rewrite the script, and build a future that energises you—not one that just checks someone else’s boxes.

Realigning with your values doesn’t mean abandoning your past ambitions. It means ensuring they serve as a foundation for your future self.

3. Experiment Boldly

Curiosity is your ultimate secret weapon when life shifts. It gives you permission to explore without the pressure of “getting it right” on the first try. And instead of clinging to certainty, it asks you to embrace experimentation—not as reckless leaps, but as deliberate, low-stakes steps into the unknown.

The goal? To uncover fresh perspectives, unexpected interests, and new paths that actually feel like you.

  • Why Experimentation Works You don’t have to quit your job, move to Bali, or abandon everything you know to start experimenting. Bold doesn’t mean reckless—it means intentional.

Experimentation is like trying on different hats. Some will fit. Others will look laughably bad. But every “hat” you try teaches you something about what works, what doesn’t, and what lights you up. It’s not about nailing the perfect answer right away; it’s about collecting data on what fulfils you.

This process isn’t failure-proof—it’s failure-friendly. And that’s a good thing. Each misstep, dead-end, or “meh” moment is a clue pointing you closer to your next breakthrough.

  • How to Experiment Boldly
  • Try Something Completely Outside Your Lane. Dabble in a project unrelated to your primary field. If you’re a data analyst, take a painting class. If you’re a teacher, join a local improv group. These ventures can unlock parts of your creativity or interests you didn’t know were hiding in there.
  • Volunteer for Causes That Speak to Your Values. Maybe you care about the environment, education, or mental health. Find a way to contribute—whether it’s an afternoon at a food bank or designing marketing materials for a nonprofit. Volunteering not only connects you to your community but also sharpens your sense of what really matters to you.
  • Attend Workshops or Retreats That Expand Your Horizons. Look for events that challenge you to step out of your comfort zone. Writing retreats, leadership workshops, mindfulness weekends—they’re all opportunities to not just learn something new but to meet people who can inspire fresh perspectives.
  • Why Bold Experiments Lead to Big Breakthroughs Experimentation has a way of loosening the mental frameworks that hold you back. When you let go of “I have to have this all figured out,” you create space to explore possibilities you’d never considered.

One small experiment—a new hobby, a side gig, a single conversation—can change your trajectory. Maybe that improv class reignites your confidence in public speaking. Maybe that workshop on sustainability plants the seed for your next business idea. Or maybe volunteering teaches you that purpose matters more to you than profit.

Bold experiments don’t just reveal what you love; they help you shed old ideas about who you’re “supposed” to be. They open doors you didn’t even know were there.

So, give yourself permission to experiment—not with the pressure of “figuring it all out,” but with the freedom to try, fail, learn, and grow. Bold experiments aren’t just a path forward; they’re the key to discovering a version of yourself you didn’t even know existed.

The Power of Story

Life transitions are like launching a new product. Before unveiling it to the world, there’s a phase of iteration: testing, refining, and aligning the product with its intended audience. Your new cycle is no different. It’s your time to refine who you are and re-align with your purpose.

Meet Jack: The Corporate Climber Who Dropped off the Ladder to Build a Bridge.

For 15 years, Jack was the tech world’s golden boy, the guy everyone envied—scaling the corporate ladder like it was a StairMaster. Corner office with skyline views? Nailed it. Six-figure salary? Cha-ching. A LinkedIn profile that made recruiters weep? Sorted. Prestige, power, promotions that came faster than espresso refills? Check, check, and check. Success, by every traditional metric, was his.

By the time he hit his mid-40s, Jack had climbed so high up the corporate ladder his head was in the clouds.

But then, at the top of his game, a disorienting thought hit him like a rogue notification: Is this it?

To Jack, the clouds were starting to feel like a smokescreen. Jack discovered a gnawing emptiness – growing void in his chest.

The constant grind, the back-to-back meetings, the bonuses that didn’t buy happiness—they all started blending into one big question: What’s the point? At first, he tried to shake it off, burying himself in more work and convincing himself that another promotion or a bigger paycheck would quiet the doubts. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

So, Jack did something that left his colleagues scratching their heads. Instead of charging ahead, doubling down on the grind, he did something unheard of in his world of perpetual motion: he hit pause. Not just a day off. Not for a long weekend on some tropical beach, but for a full-on, existential pit stop —a reckoning with himself. He took 3 months off and decided to walk the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.

In the quiet of those introspective weeks on the trail, he took a long, hard look at his life and asked himself the kind of uncomfortable questions most of us avoid: What do I actually value? What do I want to leave behind? The answer wasn’t a bigger corner office. It was impact. Legacy.

It started small. Jack began volunteering at a local nonprofit, lending his expertise to help them organize their data and streamline their systems. Then he signed up to mentor aspiring leaders, sharing the lessons he’d learned from years of navigating corporate chaos, coaching young professionals who didn’t have his advantages but shared his drive. Those little steps sparked something big.

Jack realised his years in tech hadn’t just been about climbing ladders—they’d been about learning how to build bridges. He started thinking about using what he knew to create something more meaningful, something that linked his business skills to his passion for helping others. Slowly, his priorities began to shift. What started as “giving back” began to feel like moving forward. He realised that his years in the boardroom weren’t wasted—they’d just been the training ground for something bigger.

Fast-forward a couple of years, and Jack is no longer running on autopilot. He’s the founder of a booming social enterprise that uses his sharp-as-a-tack tech skills to solve real-world problems. Whether it’s helping small nonprofits scale or mentoring underrepresented entrepreneurs, he has turned his corporate know-how into a force for good. Jack’s work blends the best of who he was and who he wants to be.

It’s not an easier life—running a mission-driven business is anything but smooth sailing—but Jack’s never felt more alive. Every late-night meeting now feeds his soul instead of draining it. His life is full of meaning.

Jack didn’t give up success; he redefined it. He’s proving that you don’t have to settle for a career that leaves you feeling empty, no matter how shiny it looks from the outside. You can pause. You can pivot. And you can rewrite the instruction book to build something that actually matters to you.

Jack isn’t climbing anymore—he’s building a legacy that’s not just impressive, but truly impactful.

Like Jack, your new cycle isn’t about abandoning your achievements—it’s about channelling them into something even more aligned with who you’re becoming.

As someone who has guided others through life transitions, I’ve often drawn inspiration from horses. They’re incredibly resilient animals, able to adapt to shifting conditions with grace and strength. When faced with uncertainty, my Friesians freeze—and then they move forward, step by step, until they find solid ground again.

Final Thoughts

This isn’t about leaving behind what you’ve built—it’s about evolving into the most powerful and authentic version of yourself.

The start of this new cycle is your invitation to redefine success on your terms. It’s your chance to step into uncharted territory, guided by the lessons of your past and the promise of your future.

Ready to follow in Jack’s footsteps? Join successful professionals who’ve transformed their lives through the Infinite Impact mentoring program. In just one powerful discovery call, you’ll discover how the Infinite Impact program can help you implement the suggestions above and equip you to make a purposeful impact. I have limited availability for new clients – send an email to openlockeddoors@gmail.com and book your call now. Make today the day you start changing your life.

“I am an experienced medical doctor – MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract cert, Transformational Life Coach (dip.) Life Story Coach (cert.) Stress Counselling (cert.) Med Hypnotherapy (dip.) and EAGALA (cert.) I may have an impressive number of letters after my name, and more than three decades of professional experience, but what qualifies me to excel at what I do is my intuitive understanding of my clients’ difficulties and my extensive personal experience of managing major life changes using strategies I developed over many years.” Dr M Montagu

It’s Time to Leave it All behind in 2024

2025: A Year of Possibilities

As we approach the start of 2025, I am reviewing 2024—the good, the middling and the downright disastrous. It has been a year of stratospheric highs and mind-scrambling lows. Why is it that the struggles, disappointments, regrets, unmet expectations and failures are still clinging to me like invisible weights, dragging my spirits down? I have decided that it’s time to release them—time to write them down on paper, then tear up the paper or burn it safely as a symbolic act to remind myself that the past does not define my future.

Because 2025 is a clean slate—a chance to let go of the baggage that’s been weighing us down and holding us back and step into the future with courage, determination and intention. 2024 might have been a difficult year, but it was also a year of discoveries. I have learnt a lot, and I am taking my business in a whole new direction as a result.

Why Letting Go Matters

Think about this for a moment: how much mental energy do we spend rehashing the past? Whether it’s reliving mistakes we made, holding onto grudges, or worrying about things we can’t change, those thoughts take up a lot of space in our minds and hearts.

The truth is that mistakes and failures are part of life—but they don’t have to define us. Every mistake we make teaches us something valuable. Maybe 2024 wasn’t everything you hoped it would be. Maybe you didn’t realise all (or any) of your goals, or a dream didn’t pan out the way you wanted. That’s okay. Those experiences were stepping stones that helped you grow, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.

Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean pretending that the hard stuff didn’t happen. It means choosing to stop lugging it around.

How to Let Go

So, how do we actually let go? It starts with reflecting on the past year in a kind and honest way. Take some time to think about these questions:

  • What went well in 2024? What are you proud of?
  • What didn’t go as planned, and what did you learn from it?
  • What do you need to leave behind to make space for new growth?

When you reflect like this, you’re not beating yourself up—you’re learning. Maybe you realise you’ve been too hard on yourself or that you’ve been carrying someone else’s expectations instead of your own dreams. Recognising those things is powerful because it allows you to release them.

Forgive So That You Can Move Forward

Another big part of leaving the past behind is forgiveness. This might mean forgiving someone who hurt you or forgiving yourself for mistakes you’ve been holding onto. Let’s be real—none of us are perfect. We all mess up. But holding onto anger, regret, or guilt only ties us to the past.

Think of forgiveness as cutting a cord. When you let go of those negative emotions, you’re freeing yourself. It’s not about letting someone “off the hook”; it’s about giving yourself the peace you deserve.

Setting Intentions for 2025

Once we’ve let go of the past, we get to turn our attention to the future. And here’s where I think we often go wrong with New Year’s resolutions: we make them too rigid, too big, or too rooted in perfection. I have never been very good at keeping New Year’s resolutions, and although I totally understand how effective setting SMART and even SMARTER goals can be, I have never been able to make it work for me.

So, instead of saying, “I’ll exercise 5 days a week for 30 minutes” or “I’ll save X amount of money by July 2025,” what if we set intentions that are more about how we want to feel or who we want to become? For example:

  • “I want to be healthier, sleep better and feel more energised.”
  • “I want to make choices that support my long-term happiness.”
  • “I want to be kinder to myself and others.”

Keep it simple, and focus on growth, not perfection. And when you anchor your goals in something meaningful, you’re more likely to stick with them.

In fact, one of the most precious gifts you can give yourself in 2025 is simplicity. Imagine stepping into the year as if you’re boarding a plane to a dream destination. What would you pack in your carry-on?

  • Pack: gratitude, kindness, curiosity, and resilience.
  • Leave behind: fear, self-doubt, anxiety and toxic comparisons.

The “One Word” Challenge

Instead of your list of New Year’s resolutions filling a 700-page book, try the “One Word” challenge—a no-fuss, feel-good way to set the tone for your year without getting bogged down by an endless to-do list.

Instead of trying to do all the things and be everything to everyone, pick one single word to guide you in 2025. Think of it as your compass—a word that keeps you steady, going in the right direction, focused, and inspired, no matter what curveballs life throws your way.

Not sure what your word should be? Here’s some inspiration:

  • If 2024 felt like a horror movie starring fear: Your word could be courage. Picture yourself braving new challenges, taking leaps of faith, or simply speaking up when it matters.
  • If you felt stuck, like a car spinning its wheels in the mud: Try motivation. Or momentum. This word is all about baby steps—tiny moves that build big energy over time.
  • If 2024 was more “hot mess express” than smooth sailing: Consider insight. Or integrity. This might mean creating space for work and play, saying “yes” less often, and finding your calm in the chaos.

Once you’ve found the word that clicks, make it impossible to ignore. Write it on your bathroom mirror in lipstick or dry-erase marker. Use it as your phone’s lock screen wallpaper. Doodle it in the margins of your notebook. You could even turn it into some artsy DIY project (think embroidery, print art, or even a clay charm) if you’re feeling crafty.

The beauty of this challenge? Your word doesn’t come with deadlines or a guilt trip. It’s there to remind you of what matters most when things get tough or life feels a little too loud.

So go ahead—ditch the mile-long resolution list and pick your word for 2025. One word, endless possibilities.

Strengthening Connections in 2025

As we move into 2025, gather your people around you. Use 2025 as a year to deepen your connections—with loved ones, with your community, and with yourself. Because we are all threads in a larger tapestry, and our strength often lies in the bonds we weave with others – bonds that make life richer, more vibrant, and more meaningful.

Reconnect with Loved Ones

Let’s start with the people who’ve shared your journey. Maybe you’ve been meaning to text that old friend, the one who always knew how to make you laugh but somehow drifted out of your orbit in 2024. Reach out—whether it’s a heartfelt message, a coffee date, or a quick call to say, “Hey, I’ve missed you.” Chances are, they’ve missed you too.

For those closest to you, like family or your inner circle, prioritise quality time. It doesn’t have to be extravagant—game nights, Sunday brunches, or even just a walk in the park can tighten bonds. Let them know they are important to you, and that what happens to them matters.

Cultivate Community Connections

Look around you—your neighbourhood, workplace, or local groups are full of opportunities to make new friends and weave threads into your social tapestry.

  • Volunteer your time: Whether it’s a local shelter, a food bank, or a cause you’re passionate about, volunteering can connect you with people who share your values while making a tangible impact.
  • Join a group or class: From book clubs to yoga sessions to painting workshops, stepping into a community space can spark connections with like-minded souls.
  • Be a good neighbour: Sometimes, a simple smile, a friendly hello, or lending a hand to someone nearby is all it takes to feel more connected.

Reconnect with Yourself

Amid all this connecting, don’t forget the most important relationship of all—the one you have with yourself. Often, we’re so focused on others that we lose touch with our own inner world. Let 2025 be the year you turn inward with courage, compassion and curiosity.

Grab a notebook and let your thoughts spill onto the pages. Journaling isn’t just for writers; it’s a safe space to reflect, process emotions, and discover patterns in your life. You might find clarity on things that have been weighing you down or realise just how much you’ve grown.

Use this journaling prompt to get you going: The Three Questions: Letting Go of 2024

  1. What am I proud of achieving in 2024? Think about your victories, big or small. What challenges did you overcome? What life transitions did you survive? What lessons are you taking with you into 2025?
  2. What do I need to let go of that happened in 2024? Write down the worries, mistakes, failures or disappointments – get them out of your mind and onto the page. Once done, you can burn the page.
  3. What intentions do I want to set for 2025? Picture the person you want to be in the coming year. What values, habits, or mindsets will guide you? What would make 2025 feel meaningful, fulfilling and joyful?

End the exercise by writing a simple affirmation or mantra that resonates with you, such as:
“I am free from the past, open to the future, and grounded in the present.”

Weaving the Bigger Picture

It’s easy to feel isolated in a world that often celebrates independence and self-sufficiency. But here’s a truth worth remembering: none of us exist in a vacuum. We’re all threads in a larger tapestry, interconnected in ways we don’t always see and rarely appreciate.

When life feels overwhelming, lean on your network. Call a friend, confide in a mentor, or join an online community where you feel safe, seen and understood. The bonds you nurture, no matter how tenuous, ripple outward in unimaginable far-reaching ways.

In 2025, maybe “connection” will be your word? Because when we move forward together, we’re capable of so much more.

Imagine 2025

Here’s a little exercise: imagine 2025 as a blank canvas. Or a journal filled with blank pages. Maybe it’s a year where you chase that dream you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s a year where you let go of the pressure to always be “more productive.”

Whatever you envision, know this: you don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t need to wait for the perfect moment. Every single day is a chance to start fresh.

Even if you stumble, even if things don’t go as planned, you can begin again. Growth isn’t about getting everything right the first time—it’s about showing up, making mistakes, learning from them and trying again.

A Year of Possibility

So, as we say goodbye to 2024, and prepare to welcome 2025, there’s an unspoken promise in the air—a clean slate, a fresh chapter, and the chance to rewrite the story of our lives. For many of us, 2024 carried its share of worries, failures, and setbacks. Yet, as we step into a new year, we are gifted with an opportunity to leave behind what no longer serves us – the worries, the regrets, and the things we can’t change – and embrace the boundless possibilities of what could be.

This year, let’s choose to believe in the power of fresh starts. Let’s trust that we are capable of growth, that we deserve happiness, and that we can build a future we’re proud of—one step at a time.

My word, or rather two words, for 2025 is “countless possibilities.”

Here’s to 2025: a year of endless possibilities. Let’s step into it with open hearts and open minds. We’ve got this.

This post is dedicated to my friend Mary Kay Cocharo: May the year ahead, however daunting it looks now, be a year not only of endless possibilities, but of limitless victories.

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