Morning Pages: Your Mind’s Daily Detox during Life’s Storms

morning pages

The Simple Writing Practice That Clears Mental Chaos so You Can Finally Start Your Next Chapter

What this is: A practical exploration of morning pages, the brain-clearing writing practice that helps you process the mental chaos of major life transitions. Think of it as your daily mind-detox, not your therapy session.

What this isn’t: Another fluffy journaling article telling you to “gratitude your way to happiness” or pretend everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. No toxic positivity here.

Read this if: You’re navigating a significant life change (health crisis, divorce, loss, career shift), you’re over 40/50/60, your mind won’t stop spinning, and you’re ready to stop rehashing the same thoughts in an endless loop.

5 Key Takeaways

  1. Morning pages aren’t about solutions, they’re about evacuation. Getting thoughts onto paper prevents them from bouncing around your skull all day like mental shrapnel.
  2. The practice works precisely because it’s unedited and unseen. This isn’t Instagram-worthy journaling; it’s raw, messy thought-dumping that no one will ever read.
  3. Consistency matters more than perfection. Five minutes of complaining on paper beats hours of “trying to journal properly” that never happens.
  4. Morning pages create space for what matters. Once you’ve emptied the mental rubbish bin, there’s actually room for clarity, creativity, and forward movement.
  5. This practice is especially powerful during life transitions. When your entire world is shifting, morning pages become the one stable container that can hold whatever you’re feeling.

Introduction: When Your Brain Won’t Shut Down

You wake at 3 a.m., and there it is again: the same worry, the same question, the same mental replay of yesterday’s conversation. By morning, you’re exhausted from thinking. By midday, you’re making decisions you suspect you’ll regret. By evening, you’re too drained to do anything except collapse and prepare for another night of mental gymnastics.

Sound familiar?

If you’re navigating a major life transition, whether it’s recovering from a health crisis, processing divorce, grieving a loss, putting an empty nest in order and rebuilding after your world turned upside down, your mind likely feels like a browser with 47 tabs open. Some are frozen, some are playing ineffective calming music, and you can’t find the one that has the important information you need.

The hardest part isn’t always the event itself. It’s the relentless mental noise that follows. The rumination. The what-ifs. The endless replay of how things used to be or might have been. It’s exhausting, but it’s completely normal.

What if I told you that five minutes of complaining on paper each morning could change everything? That this simple, unglamorous practice could be the difference between drowning in mental chaos and actually moving forward, slowly and steadily?

I’m Dr. Margaretha Montagu, a GP with two decades of experience in stress management, an NLP master practitioner, medical hypnotherapist, and life transition coach. During the 15 years I’ve been hosting transformational retreats on the Camino de Santiago, I’ve witnessed hundreds of people navigate major life crossroads. I’ve written eight books on divorce, loss, illness, and coping with crisis. And I can tell you this: the people who successfully start their next chapter are the ones who learn to get their disturbing thoughts out of their heads onto paper.

Let me introduce you to morning pages, and explain why this deceptively simple practice might be exactly what you need right now.

Sarah Mitchell’s Story: From Midnight Spirals to Morning Clarity

Sarah Mitchell sat in her Edinburgh kitchen at 2:47 a.m., watching rain streak the window, her laptop screen casting a blue glow across her pale face. Again. This was the fourth night this week she’d found herself here, mind churning through the same loop: the diagnosis, the treatment, the career she’d had to put on pause, the woman she used to be versus whoever she was becoming.

At 49, Sarah had been a litigation solicitor, known for her sharp mind and sharper arguments. Then came the breast cancer diagnosis, eight months of treatment that felt like eight years, and a reconstruction surgery that left her body foreign to itself. Now, six months into remission, everyone expected her to be “back to normal.” To be grateful. To move on.

But her brain had other plans.

Every morning, she’d wake with her heart already racing, thoughts spooling out before her eyes even opened: Will it come back? Can I handle the pressure of court again? What if I’m not as sharp as I was? Should I go back at all? What else could I do? But I’ve invested 20 years in this career. Am I throwing it away? Am I being ungrateful? Other people don’t even survive…

The guilt of that last thought would trigger another spiral, and by the time she dragged herself out of bed, she was already defeated by the day.

Her sister had mentioned something called “morning pages” during a phone call. “Just write whatever’s in your head,” she’d said. “Don’t think, don’t edit, just dump it all out.”

Sarah had scoffed. She was a solicitor, for heaven’s sake. She wrote for a living. She didn’t need another writing exercise. What she needed was to stop thinking so much, not write more.

But at 2:47 a.m. on a rainy Tuesday, desperate for something, anything, to change, Sarah pulled out an old notebook from a kitchen drawer. She clicked her pen. And she started writing.

I hate this. I hate that I’m awake again. I hate that my brain won’t shut down. I hate that everyone thinks I should be fine now. I hate that I don’t know who I am anymore. I hate that I can’t decide about work. I hate that I’m scared all the time. I hate that…

She wrote for exactly four minutes, her handwriting getting messier as she went. Then she stopped, closed the notebook, and went back to bed. She didn’t read what she’d written. She didn’t analyse it. She just… slept.

The next morning, something unexpected happened. When Sarah woke and the usual thought-spiral began, it felt… quieter. Less urgent. The thoughts were still there, but they weren’t screaming quite as loudly. She made coffee, opened the notebook again, and wrote for another five minutes. More complaints. More questions. More messiness.

By the end of the first week, Sarah noticed she was sleeping past 5 a.m. By week two, she realised she’d made a decision about work; she didn’t even remember consciously considering it, it had simply emerged, clear as day, after days of dumping the mental debris onto paper.

Three months later, Sarah had filled two notebooks with mostly illegible ranting. She’d never once reread a single page. But she’d also done something remarkable: she’d negotiated a part-time return to work, started training for a half-marathon (something she’d vaguely wanted to do for years but never had “mental space” for), and begun exploring mediation work instead of litigation, using her legal skills in a less adversarial way.

“The pages didn’t solve anything,” she told her sister over lunch. “They didn’t give me answers. They just… stopped my brain from eating itself alive. Once I’d vomited all the worry onto paper each morning, I could actually think clearly enough to make decisions. It’s like I was trying to work out complex legal problems while someone was simultaneously shouting all my worst fears at me. The pages turned down the volume.”

Her sister smiled. “So, not just a writing exercise for solicitors?”

Sarah laughed, properly laughed, for the first time in months. “Turns out, sometimes you need to write the mess out before you can write the way forward.”

Why Morning Pages Work: The Science Behind the Brain Dump

Morning pages, originated by author Julia Cameron in her book The Artist’s Way, involve writing three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing first thing in the morning. Tim Ferriss adapted this into a five-minute version, which he describes as “bitching and moaning on paper.” Both approaches share the same fundamental principle: getting thoughts out of your head and onto paper, unfiltered and unedited.

But why does something so simple work so profoundly, especially during major life transitions?

Think of your mind as a computer’s working memory, what tech people call RAM. When too many programs are running simultaneously, everything slows down. Your brain operates the same way. During a major life change, your cognitive load skyrockets. You’re processing grief, uncertainty, identity shifts, practical concerns, and existential questions, often all at once. Your mental RAM is maxed out.

Morning pages act as a daily system reboot. By externalising the thoughts, you’re literally freeing up cognitive resources. This isn’t metaphorical; research in cognitive psychology shows that writing about stressful experiences reduces intrusive thoughts and improves working memory. When you write something down, your brain can stop using energy to remember or rehearse it.

For those of us over 40/50 and 60 navigating transitions, this is especially crucial. Midlife doesn’t just bring major life events; it brings them against a backdrop of hormonal changes, ageing parents, grown children, career pressures, and the unsettling realisation that time is finite. Your brain is already working overtime. Morning pages prevent complete system overload.

As someone who’s spent 20 years working with patients experiencing stress-related conditions, I’ve observed a consistent pattern: the people who cope best aren’t those who “stay positive” or “don’t think about it.” They’re the ones who acknowledge the mental chaos, give it somewhere to go, and then move forward with whatever cognitive space remains.

Morning pages also work because they’re private and imperfect. Unlike journaling intended for reflection or growth, morning pages are meant to be garbage. This removes performance pressure. You’re not trying to have insights or write beautifully. You’re just emptying the bin. This matters enormously when you’re already feeling fragile, scrutinised, or like you should be “handling things better.”

Finally, morning pages create a container for ambivalence, something life transitions are full of. You can simultaneously miss your old life and be excited about a new one. You can grieve and hope. You can be angry and grateful. Morning pages hold all of it without requiring resolution. This is precisely what your mind needs during major change: permission to be messy without having to fix it all immediately.

This practice becomes not just a mental health tool, but a life transition strategy. It helps you process without getting stuck in processing. It honours the difficulty without making the difficulty your entire identity. And it creates just enough space between you and your thoughts to remember that you are not your thoughts; you’re the person witnessing them.

When one person in a family or community begins processing their transition more effectively, the ripple effects are remarkable. They show up more present. They make clearer decisions. They stop leaking unprocessed anxiety onto everyone around them. They model that it’s possible to go through something hard without falling apart or pretending everything’s fine. This permission, given through example, often liberates others to address their own transitions more honestly.

In my retreats on the Camino de Santiago, I’ve watched morning pages transform group dynamics. When participants start their day clearing their mental clutter, they arrive at our storytelling circles more open, less defensive, more genuinely curious about others’ experiences. The practice creates a foundation for deeper connection because people aren’t simultaneously trying to navigate conversation while wrestling with their internal noise.

5 Critical Mistakes to Avoid with Morning Pages

Mistake 1: Rereading What You’ve Written

The whole point is evacuation, not analysis. If you read back over your pages, you’re essentially re-ingesting the mental garbage you just expelled. It defeats the purpose entirely. Write it, close the notebook, move on. These pages aren’t your memoir; they’re your mind’s compost heap.

Mistake 2: Trying to Make Them “Productive” or “Insightful”

Morning pages aren’t for epiphanies, though they sometimes produce them as a side effect. They’re for complaining, worrying, rambling, and mentally sorting through the detritus of your life. The moment you start performing for an imagined audience or trying to force wisdom, you’ve lost the raw honesty that makes this practice effective.

Mistake 3: Waiting Until You “Have Time” or “Feel Like It”

Morning pages work through consistency, not perfection. Five minutes of scribbled nonsense every morning beats an hour of beautiful journaling once a month. The practice creates cumulative cognitive relief. Waiting for the perfect moment ensures you’ll never start, and your brain will continue its exhausting loop.

Mistake 4: Judging the Content

You’ll write petty things. Repetitive things. Things that seem trivial or embarrassing. You’ll complain about the same issue 47 days in a row. This is normal and fine. Your morning pages aren’t a reflection of your character; they’re a reflection of what your brain needs to release that particular morning. No judgment, no censoring, no editing for palatability.

Mistake 5: Expecting Immediate Transformation

Morning pages work quietly and cumulatively. You won’t finish day one feeling like a new person. You might not notice anything for two weeks. Then one day, you’ll realise you slept through the night, or made a decision that had been paralysing you, or felt genuinely present during a conversation instead of mentally rehearsing your worries. Trust the process before you see the results.

Intention Setting Exercise: Your Morning Pages Commitment

Take a moment right now to set a clear intention around this practice. You might even want to write this out:

My Morning Pages Promise to Myself:

For the next 21 days, I commit to writing morning pages for five minutes immediately upon waking. I will not reread them. I will not judge them. I will not make them profound. I will simply use them as a daily mental evacuation system, trusting that clearing space in my mind will allow clarity to emerge naturally.

I’m doing this because: [Fill in your specific reason: because my mind won’t stop spinning, because I need to make decisions about my next chapter, because I’m tired of mental exhaustion, etc.]

I’ll know this is working when: [Name one small sign: I sleep better, I feel less mentally chaotic, I make a decision I’ve been avoiding, etc.]

My backup plan if I miss a day: I’ll start again the next morning without self-criticism or abandoning the practice entirely.

Sign it. Date it. Refer back to it when motivation wavers.

Further Reading: 5 Books on Morning Pages and Life Transitions

1. The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron

This is the origin text for morning pages. Cameron developed this practice as a creativity tool, but its applications extend far beyond art. Her 12-week program includes morning pages as the foundational practice. I recommend this book because it contextualises the practice within a broader framework of creative recovery, which is often what life transitions require: recovering your ability to imagine new possibilities.

2. Writing Down Your Soul by Janet Conner

Conner takes morning pages deeper into spiritual territory, exploring how this practice can become a dialogue with your deeper self or, if you’re spiritually inclined, with the divine. For those navigating transitions that raise existential questions, this book offers a framework for using morning pages as a tool for accessing wisdom beyond your conscious mind.

3. The Morning Mind by Dr. Robert Carter Jr. and Dr. Kirti Salwe Carter

This book combines neuroscience with the practice of morning routines, including writing. It’s particularly useful if you want to understand the brain science behind why dumping thoughts onto paper first thing creates cognitive benefits throughout your day. The authors explain how morning practices literally reshape neural pathways.

4. A Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Workbook by Bob Stahl and Elisha Goldstein

While not specifically about morning pages, this workbook offers complementary practices for managing the stress and rumination that often accompany major life transitions. Morning pages combined with mindfulness practices create a powerful toolkit for navigating change without being overwhelmed by it.

5. The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer

Singer’s work on learning to observe your thoughts rather than being consumed by them pairs beautifully with morning pages. His exploration of how we create suffering through mental narrative helps contextualise why getting those narratives onto paper, where you can see them as separate from yourself, is so liberating.

P.S. If you’re specifically looking for a practical, day-by-day guide to navigating life transitions, my book Embracing Change, in 10 Minutes a Day offers bite-sized practices (including morning pages) designed for people who are overwhelmed and don’t have hours for self-development. It’s structured to meet you where you are, even on the hardest days. Available here

A Voice from the Storytelling Circle

“After losing my husband, I felt like I was drowning in my own head. Every morning was a battle to get out of bed, and the thoughts just never stopped. When I joined Dr. Montagu’s Purpose Pivot Protocol and started attending the weekly storytelling circles, she introduced us to morning pages. Honestly, I thought it was too simple to work. But within three weeks, something shifted. The pages gave my grief somewhere to go every morning, and the storytelling circle gave me a safe place to share the parts I needed witnessed. For the first time in 18 months, I felt like I wasn’t just surviving, I was actually beginning to live again. The combination of private morning pages and shared stories in the circle created this beautiful balance between solitude and connection that I desperately needed.”

โ€” Jennifer K., Purpose Pivot Protocol participant, 2024

Learn more about the Purpose Pivot Protocol online course here

5 FAQs About Morning Pages for Life Transitions

Can I type my morning pages instead of writing by hand?

You can, though handwriting is generally more effective for several reasons. Handwriting is slower, which prevents your brain from racing ahead. It also engages different neural pathways than typing, creating stronger cognitive processing. That said, if you have arthritis, mobility issues, or truly hate handwriting, typed morning pages are infinitely better than no morning pages. The practice matters more than the medium.

What if five minutes isn’t enough to get everything out?

Then write for longer, but be cautious about this becoming an avoidance strategy. The goal isn’t to resolve everything on paper; it’s to release enough pressure that you can function. Julia Cameron’s original recommendation is three pages (about 750 words), which typically takes 20-30 minutes. Experiment to find what works, but don’t let “not having enough time to finish” become a reason not to start.

Should I use morning pages instead of therapy?

Absolutely not. Morning pages are a self-care practice, not a replacement for professional support. If you’re navigating trauma, clinical depression, severe anxiety, or complex grief, you need proper therapeutic support. Morning pages can complement therapy beautifully, they give you somewhere to process between sessions, but they’re not a substitute for professional help when that’s what’s truly needed.

What if I don’t have anything to write about?

Write “I don’t have anything to write about” until something emerges. Or write about how annoying this exercise is. Or write about what you can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel right now. The content genuinely doesn’t matter. The act of moving pen across paper, even if it’s nonsense, creates the cognitive shift. Your brain will fill the space if you just keep the pen moving.

How long before I notice results?

Most people report subtle shifts within one to two weeks: slightly better sleep, marginally clearer thinking, small decisions made more easily. Significant changes, feeling genuinely less mentally chaotic, making major decisions with clarity, often emerge around the three to four week mark. This is why the 21-day commitment is so important. You need to push past the “is this working?” phase to reach the “this is working” phase.

Conclusion: The Page Knows Before You Do

Here’s what I’ve learned from two decades of working with people in transition, both in my medical practice and through transformational retreats: the answer is rarely “think harder.” It’s almost always “get the thoughts out of the way so you can see what’s left.”

Morning pages don’t solve your problems. They don’t make the grief disappear or the decisions obvious or the uncertainty comfortable. What they do is create just enough space between you and the mental chaos that you can begin to move forward, one small decision at a time.

As Tim Ferris says, “Morning pages donโ€™t need to solve your problems. They simply need to get them out of your head, where theyโ€™ll otherwise bounce around all day like a bullet ricocheting inside your skull. Could bitching and moaning on paper for 5 minutes each morning change your life? As crazy as it seems, I believe the answer is yes.”

Morning pages are that first step. The one that requires nothing except a pen, paper, and five minutes of your morning. The one that doesn’t demand you have answers or feel better or be further along than you are. Just the willingness to empty your mind onto paper and see what emerges when you’ve cleared the space.

Your next chapter is waiting, not in some distant future when you’ve “figured everything out,” but in the quiet clarity that comes when you stop letting thoughts ricochet inside your skull and start letting them out.

Walk Your Next Chapter into Being

Sometimes, the thoughts are so loud that sitting still makes them worse. Sometimes, you need to move your body to settle your mind.

If you’re ready to combine the clarity of morning pages with the ancient practice of walking meditation, join me for a 7-day Camino de Santiago Crossroads Retreat in the stunning southwest of France. These retreats are designed specifically for people navigating life transitions, the ones who know they’re at a crossroads and are ready to walk toward what’s next.

Each morning begins with morning pages in the peaceful French countryside. Then you walk sections of the legendary pilgrimage route, giving your body somewhere to put the restless energy while your mind processes. We often gather for storytelling circles with my Friesian horses, whose quiet presence creates a profound space for sharing, listening, and being witnessed in your transition.

This isn’t a hiking trip with some self-help tacked on. It’s a carefully crafted container for the messy, non-linear work of starting your next chapter. You’ll leave with clarity you couldn’t access while sitting in your usual environment, thinking the same thoughts in the same rooms.

If your mind won’t stop spinning and your next chapter feels both urgent and unclear, perhaps it’s time to walk toward it. Discover the Camino de Santiago Crossroads Retreat here


Reflection Question: What would become possible if you cleared just five minutes of mental space each morning? What decision might emerge if you stopped rehearsing it and started releasing it onto paper?

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

Foundations for Your Future Protocol – a fast-paced, high-impact, future-focused course that facilitates the construction of identity-shaping stories about your future self so that you can make the changes needed to avoid having to go through big life changes again and againโ€”without needing to process your past in depth and in detail.

Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu โ€“ described as a โ€œgame changerโ€, โ€œgifted healerโ€, โ€œguiding lightโ€ and โ€œlife-enriching authorโ€ โ€“ 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 โ€“ virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

There appears to be no peerโ€‘reviewed research that studies Julia Cameronโ€™s specific โ€œmorning pagesโ€ protocol by name, but there is a substantial body of research on closely related practices such as expressive writing, freeโ€‘writing, and daily journaling for mental health, eg. : Sohal M, Singh P, Dhillon BS, Gill HS. Efficacy of journaling in the management of mental illness: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Fam Med Community Health. 2022 Mar;10(1):e001154.

Unconscious Bias: What It Is and Why You Need to Avoid It

unconscious bias

Your brain is brilliant at making lightning-fast decisions, but sometimes it gets a bit too clever for its own good. Unconscious bias is the mental shortcut that whispers misleading stories in your ear, especially when you’re navigating major life changes. This article explores what’s happening in your remarkable brain, why it matters more than you think, and how to gently challenge those automatic assumptions before they derail your next chapter. Whether you’re reinventing yourself at sixty or wrestling with a career crossroads, understanding unconscious bias might just be the kindest gift you give yourself.

Five Key Takeaways

  1. Unconscious bias operates below your awareness, making snap judgements based on stereotypes rather than facts, particularly affecting people trying to cope with life changes.
  2. Age bias is one of the most pervasive forms of unconscious bias, often preventing talented people from pursuing new ventures after fifty.
  3. Your brain’s predictive system creates biases as energy-saving shortcuts, but these can become obstacles during life crises.
  4. Simple awareness practices can significantly reduce the impact of unconscious bias on your decision-making.
  5. Storytelling and mindful reflection help identify and challenge hidden biases in ourselves and others.

Introduction: The Invisible Hand on Your Shoulder

Here’s something nobody tells you about major life transitions: just when you need your brain to be most flexible, most open, most creative, it doubles down on old patterns like a stubborn terrier refusing to drop a bone. That’s unconscious bias at work, and it’s probably whispering unhelpful nonsense in your ear right now.

Unconscious bias, those automatic mental shortcuts we all carry, becomes particularly mischievous during life transitions such as retirement, career changes, or embarking on new ventures. These hidden prejudices operate beneath conscious awareness, influencing decisions about ourselves and others based on stereotypes rather than reality. The fascinating, slightly unsettling truth is this: the very brain that got you this far can become your biggest obstacle when you’re trying to write your next chapter.

But here’s the beautiful part, you can learn to spot these biases, question them, and choose differently. And that’s precisely what this article will help you do.

The Story of Henri’s Coffee Shop

Henri Beaumont had rehearsed his pitch seventeen times in the mirror of his seventh arrondissement apartment, each delivery more polished than the last. At sixty-seven, with silver hair that caught the autumn light streaming through his windows, he’d finally done what he’d dreamed about for forty years: left his position as a corporate insurance executive to open a speciality coffee roastery in the Marais.

The aroma of freshly ground beans filled his kitchen as he practised, his hands, still strong despite the slight tremor of nervous energy, gesturing with the passion he’d kept bottled up through decades of actuarial tables and risk assessments. His daughter had helped him create a business plan. His wife had supported his decision to cash in part of his pension. Everything was aligned, except for one crucial element: startup capital.

The bank appointment was at two o’clock on a Tuesday, the kind of crisp October afternoon when Paris feels like a watercolour painting coming to life. Henri arrived fifteen minutes early, wearing his best navy suit, the one that made him feel confident and capable. He carried a leather portfolio containing five years of financial projections, market research on the growing speciality coffee movement in Paris, and letters of intent from three restaurants interested in his beans.

The loan officer, Madame Leclerc, couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. Her handshake was firm, professional, but Henri noticed something shift in her expression the moment she registered his age on the application form. It was subtle, a micro-expression that lasted perhaps half a second, a slight tightening around the eyes, a barely perceptible pull at the corner of her mouth.

“Monsieur Beaumont,” she began, her voice taking on a tone Henri recognised instantly, the same tone people used when explaining technology to his mother, “starting a business at your stage of life is quite… ambitious.” The word ‘ambitious’ landed like a stone in still water.

Henri’s stomach clenched. He could taste the metallic tang of disappointment already forming on his tongue. The office suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. He watched her manicured fingers, painted a tasteful burgundy, flip through his proposal, barely pausing on the pages he’d agonised over for months.

“Have you considered,” she continued, not quite meeting his eyes, “that the coffee industry is extremely competitive? The physical demands of running a roastery, the long hours on your feet, the technology involved in modern coffee equipment…” She let the sentence trail off, the implication hanging in the air like cigarette smoke.

Henri felt heat rising up his neck, not from anger but from something worse: self-doubt. Was she right? The question wormed its way into his confidence. He could hear his own heartbeat, feel the slight dampness of his palms against the leather portfolio. Outside the window, he watched a young couple laughing, carrying shopping bags, their whole lives ahead of them.

But then something else rose within him, a memory of teaching his granddaughter to ride a bicycle the previous summer, running alongside her for hours without tiring. He thought of the marathon he’d completed just six months earlier, the coffee cupping sessions where his palate consistently outperformed people half his age, the software he’d mastered to model his business finances.

“Madame Leclerc,” Henri said, his voice steady, “I’ve spent forty years managing risk. I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He opened his portfolio, the crisp sound of turning pages filling the silence. “According to research from Duke University, entrepreneurs over fifty-five have significantly higher success rates than younger founders. We understand our customers better, we have established networks, and we’ve learned from decades of watching others succeed and fail.”

The air in the room shifted. Henri pulled out a photograph, the glossy paper catching the light. It showed him at origin, visiting coffee farms in Colombia, his face tanned and smiling, surrounded by farmers who’d agreed to supply his roastery. “This isn’t a retirement hobby,” he said quietly. “This is my life’s work, finally beginning.”

I share Henri’s story often in my storytelling circles, both online and at my retreats in France. It never fails to spark recognition, that collective intake of breath when people realise they’ve been on both sides of this equation: experiencing age bias and, if we’re honest, harbouring it themselves. Henri eventually secured his loan from a different institution, and his roastery opened the following spring. But the real transformation happened in that bank office, when he chose to see the unconscious bias for what it was and refuse to let it become his internal narrative.

Understanding Unconscious Bias: What’s Really Happening

Unconscious bias, also called implicit bias, refers to the attitudes and stereotypes that affect our understanding, actions, and decisions in an unconscious manner. These biases operate automatically, triggered by our brain’s tendency to categorise people and situations rapidly based on limited information.

The Science Behind the Shortcuts

Your brain processes approximately eleven million bits of information every second, yet your conscious mind can only handle about forty bits. To manage this overwhelming flood, your brain creates shortcuts, mental models that allow for quick decision-making without exhausting cognitive resources. These shortcuts, whilst efficient, often rely on stereotypes, cultural conditioning, and past experiences that may not apply to current situations.

Research published in medical and psychological journals confirms that everyone possesses unconscious biases, regardless of their conscious values or intentions. Even individuals who consciously reject prejudice can harbour implicit biases that contradict their stated beliefs. This isn’t a moral failing, it’s a feature of human cognition, albeit one that requires active management.

Why Life Transitions Amplify Bias

During major life changes, uncertainty and stress heighten, making people more likely to rely on automatic thinking patterns. When you’re navigating retirement, career change, or personal reinvention, you’re already managing significant cognitive load. Your brain, seeking to conserve energy, defaults to familiar patterns and stereotypes.

This creates a double challenge. Not only do others project biases onto you based on your age, background, or circumstances, but you also internalise biases about yourself. You might question your capability, relevance, or worthiness of new opportunities, not because the evidence supports these doubts, but because unconscious bias has become your inner critic.

Common Types of Unconscious Bias

Age bias affects people across the lifespan but becomes particularly problematic for those over fifty seeking new opportunities. Despite research showing that older entrepreneurs achieve higher success rates, they face significant barriers accessing capital, employment, and training. Assumptions about energy levels, technological competence, and adaptability often mask the genuine advantages of experience, wisdom, and established networks.

Confirmation bias leads us to seek information that confirms existing beliefs whilst dismissing contradictory evidence. If you believe you’re too old to start something new, you’ll notice every story of youthful success whilst overlooking examples of later-life achievement.

Affinity bias draws us towards people similar to ourselves, potentially limiting opportunities and perspectives during transitions. This bias can prevent valuable mentorship relationships, business partnerships, or friendships that cross demographic boundaries.

Practical Strategies for Recognising and Reducing Bias

Cultivate Mindful Awareness

The SPACEยฒ model, an evidence-based framework for managing unconscious bias, emphasises six key strategies: slowing down, perspective-taking, asking yourself questions, cultural intelligence, exemplars, and expand. Slowing down your decision-making process creates room for reflection rather than automatic response.

When facing important decisions during life transitions, pause before acting. Notice your immediate reactions and examine them with curiosity rather than judgement. Ask yourself: what assumptions am I making? What evidence supports or contradicts these assumptions? Whose perspective am I missing?

Practice Perspective-Taking

Actively seek experiences and stories that challenge your existing mental models. If you’re worried about age limiting your opportunities, research successful later-life entrepreneurs like the eighty-six-year-old editor building her brand on Fiverr or the eighty-one-year-old who secured patents for his refrigeration system. These examples aren’t outliers, they represent a significant trend of capable, creative people reimagining work after traditional retirement.

Perspective-taking also means examining how your own biases might affect others. Have you made assumptions about younger colleagues, people from different backgrounds, or those whose life paths differ from yours? Recognising your own biases reduces their power whilst building empathy.

Question Your Stories

In my storytelling circles, participants discover that the narratives they tell themselves about their capabilities and worth often contain hidden biases. These internal stories, shaped by culture, media, and past experiences, can become self-fulfilling prophecies if left unexamined.

Try this exercise: write down a belief you hold about your current life transition. Then challenge it. What evidence contradicts this belief? Who successfully navigated a similar change despite facing comparable or greater obstacles? How might you reframe this belief to serve rather than limit you?

Build Cultural Intelligence

Cultural intelligence involves developing awareness of how different backgrounds, generations, and experiences shape perspectives and assumptions. During life transitions, expanding your cultural competence opens possibilities you might otherwise miss.

Seek diverse input when making decisions. Consult people from different age groups, industries, and backgrounds. Their perspectives can reveal blind spots and opportunities invisible from your vantage point.

Find and Become Exemples

Identify role models who’ve successfully navigated transitions similar to yours. Their existence challenges stereotypical thinking and provides practical roadmaps. Equally important, recognise that your journey can inspire others facing similar crossroads.

Research confirms that exposure to counter-stereotypical exemplars reduces implicit bias over time. The more examples you encounter of people defying limiting assumptions, the weaker those assumptions become.

Further Reading

“Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People” by Mahzarin R. Banaji and Anthony G. Greenwald

This seminal work by the creators of the Implicit Association Test explores how unconscious bias operates even in people committed to fairness and equality. I chose this book because it provides scientific rigour without sacrificing accessibility, offering readers both understanding and practical tools. The authors demonstrate how implicit biases develop, how they influence behaviour, and most importantly, how awareness can begin to counteract their effects. For anyone navigating life transitions, this book offers the foundation for recognising hidden biases that might otherwise sabotage new beginnings.

“The Leader’s Guide to Unconscious Bias: How to Reframe Bias, Cultivate Connection, and Create High-Performing Teams” by Pamela Fuller

Fuller’s practical approach makes this book invaluable for anyone reinventing themselves professionally. The book emphasises that unconscious bias isn’t about blame but about understanding and growth. I selected this because it offers concrete strategies for reframing bias, building inclusive thinking, and making better decisions under uncertainty. The focus on connection and high performance makes it particularly relevant for people starting new ventures or building new professional identities during transitions.

“Thinking, Fast and Slow” by Daniel Kahneman

Whilst not exclusively about unconscious bias, Kahneman’s exploration of the two systems of thinking, fast (intuitive) and slow (deliberate), illuminates how biases form and persist. I included this book because understanding your cognitive architecture helps you recognise when you’re operating on autopilot versus making considered choices. During major life changes, knowing how your mind works becomes a superpower. Kahneman’s accessible writing transforms complex neuroscience into practical wisdom applicable to everyday decisions.

Voices

“Margaretha’s storytelling circles opened my eyes to biases I didn’t even know I had, especially about my own capabilities after redundancy. Hearing others’ stories and sharing my own helped me see that the limiting voice in my head wasn’t truth, it was conditioning. Within three months of attending the online circle, I’d launched the consulting practice I’d been ‘too old’ to start. That shift in perspective was everything.”
โ€” J.M., Storytelling Circle Participant

Five Sharp FAQs

Q: Can unconscious bias really be eliminated completely?
Probably not entirely, but that’s not the goal. The aim is awareness and management rather than elimination. Research shows that acknowledging biases and actively working to counteract them significantly reduces their influence on decisions and behaviour. Think of it like learning to notice when you’re hungry rather than eating unconsciously, you can’t eliminate hunger, but you can make better choices about how and when you respond.

Q: How can I tell if I’m experiencing bias from others or if I’m being oversensitive?
Trust your instincts whilst seeking patterns rather than focusing on isolated incidents. If multiple interactions leave you feeling dismissed, underestimated, or stereotyped, that’s data worth examining. Document specific behaviours and statements rather than vague feelings. Also consider: would this same treatment apply to someone from a different demographic? If the answer is probably not, bias is likely at play.

Q: What if recognising my own biases makes me feel guilty or ashamed?
Guilt indicates you’re human, not flawed. Everyone possesses unconscious biases because everyone’s brain uses shortcuts. The goal isn’t moral perfection but conscious evolution. Shame keeps biases hidden; curiosity transforms them. Approach your biases with the same gentle kindness you’d offer a friend learning something new.

Q: How do I challenge age bias in professional settings without seeming defensive?
Lead with evidence rather than emotion. When assumptions surface, calmly present data, examples, or your own track record. Henri’s approach in the story works well: acknowledge the concern, then reframe it with facts. Research supports that older entrepreneurs often outperform younger ones, so you’re not being defensive, you’re being accurate. Confidence grounded in evidence rarely reads as defensiveness.

Q: Can mindfulness practices genuinely reduce unconscious bias?
Yes, research increasingly supports this connection. Mindfulness strengthens the capacity to notice automatic thoughts without immediately acting on them, creating space for more deliberate responses. Regular mindfulness practice enhances self-awareness, reduces stress-driven reactivity, and increases cognitive flexibility, all factors that help manage unconscious bias. It’s not magic, but it is measurably effective.

Conclusion: Your Next Chapter, Unbiased

Understanding unconscious bias isn’t about achieving perfection or eliminating every automatic thought your brain produces. It’s about developing the awareness to notice when those thoughts are leading you astray and the courage to choose differently. During major life transitions, when everything feels uncertain and your confidence might waver, recognising and challenging bias, both in yourself and others, becomes an act of self-compassion and wisdom.

The stories you tell yourself matter profoundly. They shape not only how you see yourself but what you believe is possible. When those stories are contaminated by unconscious bias, they limit your next chapter before it even begins. But when you learn to question assumptions, seek diverse perspectives, and trust evidence over stereotypes, you reclaim authorship of your life.

Your age, your history, your unique path, these aren’t obstacles to reinvention. They’re advantages, if you refuse to let bias convince you otherwise. Every transition offers an opportunity to shed old stories and step into new possibilities. The question isn’t whether you’re capable of writing your next chapter. It’s whether you’ll let unconscious bias hold the pen.

Walk the Camino at any Age: A Retreat for Life’s Crossroads

Sometimes the most powerful way to recognise and release unconscious bias is to step away from the noise, both external and internal, and walk yourself into clarity. That’s precisely what happens on my Camino de Santiago Crossroads retreats in the sun-blessed southwest of France.

Imagine spending seven days walking through noble vineyards, wildflower meadows, and quiet ancient forests, each step creating space for the stories you’ve been carrying to surface and transform. At Esprit Meraki, my 200-year-old farmhouse nestled in lush meadows, you’ll experience a carefully crafted blend of walking meditation, mindfulness practices for stress management, and my signature storytelling circles where bias loses its grip and authentic possibility emerges.

These retreats aren’t about pushing through or proving yourself. They’re about releasing the weight of others’ expectations and your own unconscious limitations. Through daily walks on the legendary Camino, micro-meditations you can take home, and evening storytelling circles, you’ll discover which narratives serve your next chapter and which ones need to be left by the wayside.

Previous guests describe the experience as transformative, returning home with laser-sharp clarity about their path forward and the confidence to walk it regardless of what others assume. Whether you’re navigating retirement, career reinvention, or any significant life transition, the combination of movement, mindfulness, and shared stories creates the perfect environment for seeing beyond bias into what’s truly possible.

The retreats run from March through November, welcoming small groups that allow for genuine connection and personal attention. You’ll be supported, nourished, and given the time and space to reconnect with your authentic self whilst walking one of the world’s most meaningful pilgrimage routes. Click Here to discover how a week in France might just change everything.


A reflection for you: What story about yourself have you been accepting as truth that might actually be unconscious bias in disguise? What would become possible if you questioned it?

Firm Foundations for Your Future Protocol – a fast-paced, high-impact, future-focused course that facilitates the construction of identity-shaping stories about your future self so that you can make the changes needed to avoid having to go through big life changes again and againโ€”without needing to process your past in depth and in detail.

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

“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

Intellectual Humility: The Counterintuitive Superpower That Makes Smart People Even Smarter

Intellectual Humility

How admitting “I don’t know” can transform your relationships

What this is: A practical exploration of intellectual humility, the art of knowing what you don’t know, and why the happiest people are those brave enough to admit their blind spots.

What this isn’t: A call to become indecisive, self-doubting, or to abdicate your expertise. This isn’t about diminishing your accomplishments; it’s about amplifying your capacity to grow.

Read this if: You’re exhausted from always having to have all the answers. You’ve noticed your certainty sometimes costs you relationships. You’re ready to lead with wisdom rather than just intelligence. You suspect there might be freedom in the phrase “I could be wrong.”

Five Key Takeaways

  1. Intellectual humility doesn’t weaken your authority; it strengthens it. When you acknowledge gaps in your knowledge, people trust you more, not less.
  2. The smartest people in the room are often those willing to say, “Teach me.” Curiosity is the hallmark of true intelligence, not the illusion of omniscience.
  3. Being intellectually humble reduces stress and anxiety. When you stop defending every position as if your identity depends on it, you breathe easier.
  4. It transforms conflict into collaboration. Arguments become explorations. Disagreements become opportunities to learn rather than battles to win.
  5. Intellectual humility can be mastered. It’s not a personality trait you either have or don’t have, it’s a practice you can cultivate, starting today.
Use this prompt to ask AI to help you learn something new:
“Help me design a personalised learning plan for mastering [subject]. Break it down into daily learning tasks, recommended resources, and practical exercises I can do to build my skills.”

Introduction: The Paradox at the Heart of Success

I came across the term “intellectual humility” for the first time recently as I was reading an article in the Greater Good Magazine. I though it may be interesting to look into it, in more depth, considering the opinionated times we live in.

Why? Because the very traits that got you to the top, your decisiveness, your confidence, your ability to analyse complex situations and make bold calls, may now be the cage keeping you trapped in stress, frustration, and diminishing returns.

You’ve spent decades building credibility. You’re the person people turn to for answers. Your opinion carries weight in boardrooms, strategy sessions, and family decisions. You’ve earned your expertise through late nights, hard lessons, and relentless dedication. So why would you ever admit you don’t know something?

Because intellectual humility, the capacity to recognise the limits of your knowledge and remain open to new information, might be the single most valuable skill you haven’t yet fully embraced. It’s the counterintuitive secret that separates leaders who burn out from those who evolve. It’s what transforms strained relationships into genuine connections. And it’s a quality that can help you sleep better at night, even when you don’t have all the answers.

My mentoring approach, refined by personal experience over many, many years, is based on the premise that true transformation begins not with adding more knowledge, but with creating space, space to question, space to be wrong, space to grow. Over 20 years of working with executives and professionals in stress management, I’ve witnessed a pattern: the most resilient leaders aren’t those with the most answers, they’re those comfortable with the most questions.

The Story of Catherine Ainsworth

Catherine Ainsworth had perfected the art of certainty. As the Chief Operating Officer of a mid-sized pharmaceutical company, she’d built her reputation on making tough calls quickly and being right more often than not. The data was her religion, the spreadsheet her bible, and her track record spoke for itself: three consecutive years of revenue growth, a streamlined supply chain that competitors envied, and a team that, though occasionally resentful of her exacting standards, consistently delivered results.

But at 47, Catherine was exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could fix.

Eventually, the cracks began to show.

She was sitting in the executive conference room, the autumn light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes that danced above the polished mahogany table. Her CFO, Marcus, was presenting an alternative approach to the Q4 strategy, one that diverged significantly from Catherine’s proposal.

She could feel her jaw tightening, that familiar sensation of her teeth pressing together as Marcus spoke. Her fingers drummed against her leather portfolio, a staccato rhythm of impatience. The room smelled of fresh coffee and the faint vanilla scent of someone’s perfume, but Catherine tasted only the metallic edge of defensiveness on her tongue.

“The problem with that approach,” she interrupted, her voice clipped and precise, “is that it ignores the supply chain vulnerabilities we identified in Q2. We’ve already analysed this.”

Marcus paused, his shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly. Around the table, eyes shifted downward to notes that suddenly required intense scrutiny. The silence stretched like taffy, uncomfortable and sticky. Catherine could hear the hum of the air conditioning, the soft tap of someone’s pen against paper, the sound of her own pulse in her ears.

She won that meeting, as she usually did. But as she returned to her office, the victory felt hollow. Through her glass walls, she could see her team, heads bent over their desks, and she realised with a jolt how rarely anyone challenged her anymore. How often meetings ended with nods of agreement that felt more like resignation than genuine consensus.

That evening, Catherine sat in her BMW in the underground car park, unable to summon the energy to drive home. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and she felt the leather’s grain pressing into her palms. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly green hue. She could smell engine oil and concrete, that particular scent of enclosed spaces where cars live instead of people.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her daughter: “Mom, are you coming to my recital or are you too busy being right about everything?”

Catherine’s breath caught. The words stung precisely because they were true. When had “being right” become her primary mode of existing? When had her need for certainty transformed from an asset into a wall, one that kept her apart from her team, her family, herself?

She thought about her marriage, dissolved three years earlier. “You can’t just listen, can you?” her ex-husband had said during one of their final arguments. “You always have to correct, to improve, to show me the better way. Sometimes I just need you to be uncertain with me.”

Sitting in that car park, the engine cooling with soft metallic ticks, Catherine felt something crack open inside her. Not breaking, exactly. More like the first fissure in a chrysalis. She didn’t have the words for it yet, but she was touching the edge of intellectual humility, the recognition that her relentless certainty had become both her shield and her prison.

The next morning, Catherine did something unprecedented. She walked into the executive suite and asked Marcus to coffee. “Tell me more about your Q4 proposal,” she said, and then, with words that felt foreign but somehow liberating in her mouth: “I think I might have dismissed it too quickly. I’d like to understand what I’m missing.”

Marcus’s expression shifted from wariness to something resembling hope. And Catherine felt, for the first time in months, the lightness that comes with putting down a burden you didn’t realise you were carrying.

Over the following weeks, as she began practising what she’d later learn to call intellectual humility, Catherine noticed something remarkable. Her team started speaking up more. Meetings became laboratories for ideas rather than stages for her expertise. Her blood pressure, which had been creeping upward for years, began to normalise. She slept better. She laughed more.

And her daughter started texting more often, messages that began with “I’ve been thinking about what you said” rather than complaints about what she hadn’t heard.

Catherine’s journey was just beginning, but she’d discovered that intellectual humility isn’t weakness dressed up as virtue. It’s the courage to grow, even when you’ve already arrived.

What Is Intellectual Humility, and Why Does It Matter?

The Definition: More Than Just Admitting You’re Wrong

Intellectual humility is the recognition that your beliefs, knowledge, and perspectives are inherently limited and potentially flawed. It’s the capacity to hold your convictions lightly enough to examine them honestly, to welcome contradictory evidence without defensiveness, and to change your mind when the facts warrant it.

But here’s what makes it truly powerful: intellectual humility isn’t self-deprecation. It’s not about thinking less of yourself, it’s about thinking of yourself less often. It’s the difference between “I might be wrong” (humility) and “I’m probably wrong about everything” (lack of confidence). One opens doors; the other closes them.

Research in psychology and organisational behaviour reveals that intellectually humble people actually make better leaders, maintain stronger relationships, learn faster, and experience less anxiety. They’re not paralysed by doubt, they’re liberated by curiosity. In my work with executives during our Camino de Santiago stress management retreats, I’ve observed this transformation repeatedly: when people give themselves permission to not know, they paradoxically become more effective at navigating complexity.

The Neuroscience of Certainty and Why We Cling to It

Our brains are prediction machines, constantly creating models of reality and then defending those models as if our survival depends on it. In our evolutionary past, it often did. Uncertainty triggered the amygdala, our brain’s threat-detection system, because not knowing where the predator lurked could mean death.

Today, intellectual threats activate the same neural pathways. When someone challenges your deeply held belief, your brain processes it similarly to a physical threat. Your heart rate increases, stress hormones flood your system, and your prefrontal cortex, responsible for nuanced thinking, goes partially offline. You literally become less intelligent when your certainty is challenged. See Porter T, Elnakouri A, Meyers EA, Shibayama T, Jayawickreme E, Grossmann I. Predictors and consequences of intellectual humility. Nat Rev Psychol. 2022;1(9):524-536.

This is why intellectual humility is both difficult and essential. It requires overriding your brain’s protective instincts in service of growth. It demands that you befriend uncertainty rather than banish it. Through two decades of clinical practice and fifteen years hosting transformative retreats where guests walk the Camino de Santiago, I’ve witnessed how powerful this shift can be when people learn to sit with “I don’t know” without panic. See also Bฤ…k W, Wรณjtowicz B, Kutnik J. Intellectual humility: an old problem in a new psychological perspective. Current Issues in Personality Psychology. 2022;10(2):85โ€“97.

The Professional Benefits: Why Humble Leaders Outperform

Study after study confirms what seems counterintuitive: leaders who display intellectual humility create more innovative, engaged, and profitable organisations. Why? Because they:

Build psychological safety. When the leader can say “I was wrong” or “I need help understanding this,” team members feel safe to take risks, admit mistakes, and propose unconventional ideas.

Make better decisions. By actively seeking disconfirming evidence and diverse perspectives, intellectually humble leaders avoid costly confirmation bias and groupthink.

Adapt faster. In rapidly changing environments, the ability to update your mental models quickly is more valuable than being right initially.

Inspire loyalty. People don’t trust perfection, they trust authenticity. A leader who admits limitations appears more credible, not less.

Reduce team stress. When perfectionism isn’t the standard, everyone breathes easier. Teams led by intellectually humble managers report lower burnout and higher job satisfaction.

In my Road Map to Resilience online course, we explore how intellectual humility serves as a foundation for career transitions and leadership evolution. It’s not about abandoning your expertise, it’s about holding it with an open hand.

If youโ€™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 isnโ€™t a quick fixโ€”itโ€™s about proven strategies to calm your nervous system, shift your mindset, and create sustainable resilience. No need to cope with this on your ownโ€”letโ€™s get you back on track.

How Intellectual Humility Transforms Those Around You

The Ripple Effect in Relationships

When you embrace intellectual humility, something remarkable happens in your relationships. Arguments lose their edge. Your partner’s different perspective becomes interesting rather than threatening. Your children feel heard rather than corrected. Your colleagues become collaborators rather than competitors.

This isn’t just about keeping the peace, it’s about accessing collective wisdom. Every person in your life has knowledge you lack, experiences that could inform your blind spots, and insights that could shift your trajectory. But they’ll only share them if they believe you’re genuinely open to being influenced.

I’ve written eight books about divorce, loss, unexpected illness, and coping with crises, and one pattern emerges consistently: relationships fracture not because people disagree, but because they defend their convictions as if life itself is at stake. Intellectual humility reverses this. It says, “Your perspective matters more than my need to be right.”

The Community Impact: Leadership That Lifts

When you model intellectual humility, you give others permission to do the same. You create cultures, whether in your organisation, your family, or your community, where learning is valued over looking smart, where curiosity trumps certainty, where “I changed my mind” is celebrated as growth rather than criticised as inconsistency.

This matters beyond your immediate circle. In a world fractured by polarisation and rigid ideologies, intellectual humility is a form of radical hope. It suggests that bridge-building is possible, that we can hold strong values without demonising those who disagree, that complexity can be navigated without pretending everything is simple.

The people who attend my retreats often describe a profound shift: from seeing themselves as islands of competence to recognising they’re part of an ecosystem of wisdom. With over 30 testimonials on my website speaking to these transformations, the pattern is clear: intellectual humility doesn’t just change you, it changes the people around you.

How to Cultivating Intellectual Humility – three Options

A Writing Prompt

Set aside 20 minutes in a quiet space. Consider a belief you hold with strong conviction, something you feel certain about in your professional or personal life. Now write:

Part 1: Describe this belief in detail. Why do you hold it? What evidence supports it? How has it served you?

Part 2: Now, imagine you’re wrong. Not slightly mistaken, but fundamentally incorrect about this belief. Write from that perspective. What would the evidence for the opposite view look like? What would you need to revise about your understanding?

Part 3: Reflect on what this exercise felt like. Did you resist? Did you discover nuances you hadn’t considered? What might you be missing by holding this belief too tightly?

This practice, inspired by the reflective work we do during Inner Camino storytelling circles, isn’t about abandoning your convictions. It’s about loosening your grip enough to examine them honestly.

A Gratitude and Intention-Setting Exercise

Each morning for the next week, practice this brief ritual:

Gratitude: Identify one thing you learned yesterday that challenged or expanded your previous understanding. It might be small (“I learned my colleague’s scepticism comes from a past project failure I knew nothing about”) or significant (“I realised my approach to work-life balance isn’t the only valid one”). Express gratitude for that learning.

Intention: Set an intention for intellectual humility today. It might be: “I will ask three questions before offering my opinion in meetings,” or “I will respond to criticism with ‘Tell me more’ instead of defending myself,” or “I will notice when I feel defensive and breathe before responding.”

An AI Prompt

Use this prompt to ask AI to help you examine your convictions:
“Act as an expert on [your conviction], explain the most important concepts, and provide real-world examples to illustrate each. Then, give me a step-by-step guide to master this topic in the next 30 days.”

Further Reading: Five Books on Intellectual Humility

1. “Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know” by Adam Grant

Grant, an organisational psychologist at Wharton, makes a compelling case for the joy of being wrong. His research-backed insights into how successful people update their beliefs make this essential reading. I chose this book because it bridges rigorous science with practical application, perfect for evidence-driven professionals.

2. “The Scout Mindset: Why Some People See Things Clearly and Others Don’t” by Julia Galef

Galef distinguishes between “soldier mindset” (defending your beliefs) and “scout mindset” (mapping the terrain accurately). This book offers concrete techniques for developing intellectual humility without sacrificing conviction. It’s particularly valuable for leaders who need to make decisive calls while remaining open to new information.

3. “Humble Inquiry: The Gentle Art of Asking Instead of Telling” by Edgar Schein

Schein, a pioneer in organisational culture, demonstrates how asking the right questions builds relationships and solves problems more effectively than having all the answers. This book transformed how I facilitate the storytelling circles during our retreats, showing how curiosity creates connection.

4. “Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error” by Kathryn Schulz

Schulz explores the experience of being wrong with humour and philosophical depth. She argues that our capacity for error is inseparable from our capacity for genius. I included this because it reframes “wrongness” as not just acceptable but essential to the human experience.

5. “The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety” by Alan Watts

Watts, the philosopher who bridged Eastern and Western thought, explores how our pursuit of security and certainty creates the very anxiety we’re trying to escape. This contemplative book pairs beautifully with the physical practice of walking, which is why I often recommend it to retreat participants.

P.S. For a practical, accessible guide to navigating life transitions with humble curiosity, explore my book Embracing Change, in 10 minutes a day. It offers daily practices for building psychological flexibility, including exercises that cultivate intellectual humility during uncertain times.

From the Inner Camino Community: Real Stories of Transformation

Testimonial from a Camino de Santiago Retreat Guest:

“I arrived at Dr Montagu’s Camino de Santiago walking retreat convinced I had my life figured out. I was a successful consultant, used to being the smartest person in the room. But during our evening storytelling circle with the Friesian horses present, something shifted. When Margaretha gently asked, ‘What if your certainty is costing you connections?’ I felt defensive. Then I felt tears. By the end of the week, walking those ancient paths and sharing vulnerably with strangers who became friends, I discovered that admitting ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t weakness, it was freedom. My relationships at home have transformed. My teenage son actually talks to me now because I’ve stopped lecturing and started listening.” โ€” Richard M., Management Consultant, London

Testimonial from a Virtual Storytelling Circle Member:

“Joining Dr Montagu’s virtual storytelling circle was a leap of faith during a difficult career transition. I’d always been the one with the plan, the answers, the five-year strategy. But redundancy at 52 shattered that identity. In the circle, I learned to hold my story lightly, to listen without immediately problem-solving, to say ‘I’m still figuring this out’ without shame. The other members modelled intellectual humility in the most beautiful ways, sharing their own uncertainties, their revised beliefs, their works in progress. Being part of this community taught me that wisdom isn’t having all the answers, it’s being brave enough to sit with the questions. I’m now in a new role that I never would have considered before because I was finally open to paths I hadn’t predetermined.” โ€” Jennifer L., Former Financial Director, Manchester

Frequently Asked Questions About Intellectual Humility

Doesn’t intellectual humility make you appear weak or indecisive as a leader?

Quite the opposite. Research shows that leaders who display intellectual humility are perceived as more competent and trustworthy, not less. There’s a crucial distinction between intellectual humility (“I might be missing something, let’s examine all angles”) and chronic indecisiveness (“I can’t make up my mind”). Strong leaders make decisions, but they do so after genuinely considering alternative viewpoints. When you admit what you don’t know, people trust what you say you do know.

How do I balance intellectual humility with the need to project confidence in high-stakes situations?

Confidence and humility aren’t opposites, they’re dance partners. You can be absolutely confident in your values, your commitment to finding the best solution, and your ability to navigate complexity, while remaining humble about whether your current understanding is complete. In high-stakes situations, saying “Based on current information, here’s my recommendation” is both confident and humble. It demonstrates decisiveness while acknowledging that you’ll adjust if better data emerges.

Won’t people take advantage of me if I admit I don’t know things?

This concern usually reflects past environments where vulnerability was punished. In healthy systems, intellectual humility builds respect rather than inviting exploitation. People who might take advantage of genuine openness are revealing their own character, not exposing a flaw in your approach. Moreover, pretending to know what you don’t creates far greater vulnerability, when you’re eventually found out, which is inevitable, you lose credibility permanently.

How can I develop intellectual humility when my entire career has been built on being the expert?

Your expertise remains valuable, intellectual humility doesn’t erase it. Instead, it expands your expertise by making you coachable and adaptive. Start small: in low-stakes situations, practice saying “I hadn’t considered that angle” or “Tell me more about your thinking.” Notice that the world doesn’t end. In fact, you’ll likely find that people engage more deeply with you. Your expertise becomes more impactful when it’s offered as a contribution rather than a declaration.

Is there such a thing as too much intellectual humility?

Yes, though it’s rare. Intellectual humility becomes problematic when it slides into self-doubt or prevents you from acting on well-founded knowledge. If you find yourself paralysed by uncertainty or dismissing your own expertise automatically, you’ve overcorrected. Healthy intellectual humility says, “I’m confident in what I know, and I’m open to learning more.” It’s the integration of confidence and curiosity, not the abdication of judgment.

Conclusion: The Courage to Admit We Do Not Know

In a world that rewards certainty, choosing intellectual humility is an act of courage. It’s the recognition that your growth matters more than your image, that connection matters more than being right, that wisdom is found not in having all the answers but in asking better questions.

As David Foster Wallace observed, “The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.” Intellectual humility is the willingness to be finished with, to let truth refine you rather than defend yourself against it. It’s uncomfortable work. It requires dismantling the fortress of certainty you’ve built brick by brick over decades. But on the other side of that dismantling is something more valuable than being right: the freedom to keep growing.

You’ve achieved remarkable things with your intelligence, your decisiveness, your expertise. Imagine what becomes possible when you add humility to that already impressive foundation. Imagine leading teams where people bring you their wildest ideas because they know you’ll truly consider them. Imagine relationships where disagreement becomes opportunity rather than threat. Imagine sleeping soundly, knowing you don’t have to have all the answers because you’re part of a community of seekers, all fumbling toward truth together.

The path of intellectual humility doesn’t diminish you. It liberates you. And that liberation ripples outward, touching everyone you lead, love, and serve.

The question isn’t whether you know enough. The question is: Do you understand the need to keep on learning?

Your Invitation: Walk the Camino, Transform Your Relationship with Certainty

Imagine seven days where the only thing you need to know for certain is which foot to place next on an ancient pilgrim path. Where the rhythm of walking, the beauty of the French countryside in Gascony, and the companionship of fellow seekers creates space for the kind of transformation that’s impossible to schedule into your already-packed calendar.

My Camino de Santiago Crossroads walking retreats in the south-west of France offer something increasingly rare: permission to not have it all figured out. Each day, you walk through stunning landscapes, practising mindfulness and meditation techniques designed specifically for people who carry the weight of responsibility like a second skin. The walking itself becomes a metaphor for intellectual humility; you can’t rush the path, you can’t control the terrain, you can only show up present for each step.

Evenings are spent in our storytelling circles, sometimes in the peaceful presence of my Friesian horses, who have an uncanny ability to reflect back our authentic selves without judgment. Here, we become simply human, sharing vulnerabilities, asking questions that have no easy answers, practising the art of listening without needing to fix or solve. Participants consistently describe these circles as the most transformative element of the retreat, the place where intellectual humility shifts from concept to lived experience.

This isn’t a holiday, though the setting in the south-west of France is undeniably beautiful. This is intentional time away from the demands of your high-performance life to reconnect with the curiosity and openness that first fuelled your success before certainty became your default mode. It’s where you remember that “I don’t know” can be the beginning of wisdom rather than the admission of weakness.

With 15 years of hosting these retreats and a varied collection of testimonials speaking to their impact, I’ve witnessed again and again how the combination of walking, mindfulness practices, and authentic community creates lasting shifts in how participants lead, relate, and live. You’ll return not with all the answers, but with something better: the capacity to sit with uncertainty while still moving forward with purpose.

Spaces are intentionally limited to preserve the intimacy and depth of the experience. If you’re ready to trade the exhausting weight of certainty for the liberating practice of intellectual humility, I’d be honoured to host you.

Learn more and reserve your spot.

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

Use all suggested AI prompts with circumspection.


Dr Margaretha Montagu, MBChB, MRCGP, NLP Master Practitioner, Medical Hypnotherapist, Life Transition Coach, has spent 20 years supporting stressed professionals in finding sustainable wellbeing and 15 years guiding transformative walking retreats on the Camino de Santiago. She is the author of eight books on navigating life’s inevitable transitions and the creator of the Inner Camino approach to stress management and personal growth.

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Congratulations In the Aftermath of Forgiveness: Why You Deserve a Standing Ovation

Reclaim Your Power and Peace by Celebrating the Courage It Takes to Forgive

What this is: A deep dive into the overlooked final stage of forgiveness: the bit where you actually pat yourself on the back for completing one of life’s most gruelling emotional marathons. Think of it as permission to throw yourself a one-person ticker-tape parade.

What this isn’t: Another “forgiveness is a gift you give yourself” platitude that makes you want to throw something. This isn’t about bypassing your pain or rushing the process. We’re not here to tie everything up with a pretty bow and pretend betrayal doesn’t sting like fury.

Read this if: You’ve done the hard yards of forgiving someone (or yourself), you’re exhausted from the emotional heavy-lifting, and you’re wondering why there’s no certificate, medal, or at least a decent bottle of wine waiting for you on the other side.

5 Key Takeaways

  1. Forgiveness is a multi-stage process that deserves recognition at every milestone, especially at the very end
  2. Self-congratulation isn’t narcissism, it’s essential psychological hygiene that reinforces positive behavioural patterns
  3. The lack of external validation for forgiveness work means you must become your own cheerleader
  4. Celebrating your forgiveness journey creates neurological pathways that make future emotional work easier
  5. Acknowledging your achievement prevents resentment from creeping back in through the back door

Introduction: The Silent Achievement

Here’s something nobody tells you about forgiveness: it’s the only Herculean task you’ll ever complete without so much as a participation trophy. You can run a marathon and get a medal. Finish your degree and receive a diploma. Lose weight and people notice. But forgive someone who shattered your trust? Crickets.

We live in a culture obsessed with visible achievements, yet forgiveness, one of the most demanding emotional accomplishments a human being can undertake, happens entirely in the shadows of your psyche. No one rings a bell. No one posts congratulations on your social feed. The person you forgave might not even know you’ve done it.

Admit it: you probably haven’t congratulated yourself either.

We’re brilliant at beating ourselves up for holding grudges, but rubbish at celebrating when we finally let them go. It’s as if we expect forgiveness to be instantaneous, like flicking a light switch, rather than what it actually is: a slow, painful climb up a mountain you never asked to scale in the first place.

As someone who has spent 20 years working with stressed professionals and executives, I’ve witnessed countless successful people who can negotiate million-pound deals, manage teams of hundreds, and juggle impossible schedules, yet they struggle to acknowledge their own emotional victories. The hardest journey isn’t always the one under your feet, it’s the one within.

So let’s change that narrative. Let’s talk about why you deserve a standing ovation for the forgiveness work you’ve done, and why celebrating yourself isn’t optional, it’s essential.

The Story of Elena Rogers: When Forgiveness Feels Like Failure

Elena Rogers sat in her corner office on the 47th floor, watching the September sun paint London in shades of amber and gold. The view was spectacular. Her career was spectacular. Her life, on paper, was spectacular. But inside, she felt hollow, as though she’d been scooped out with a spoon and left to function on autopilot.

Six months earlier, Elena had forgiven her former business partner, Marcus, for the betrayal that had nearly destroyed the company they’d built together over a decade. He’d been siphoning funds, making deals behind her back, undermining her authority with clients she’d nurtured from their first nervous pitch meetings. When the truth emerged, it felt like being hit by a lorry she never saw coming.

The forgiveness hadn’t been a lightning bolt moment. It had been more like erosion, waves of acceptance gradually wearing down the jagged edges of her rage. She’d worked with a therapist. She’d written letters she never sent. She’d walked, and walked, and walked, through parks and along the Thames, trying to make sense of something that would never fully make sense.

And then one morning, she woke up and realised the burning sensation in her chest had faded. She could think about Marcus without her jaw clenching. She could remember the good years without the memories being immediately contaminated by the betrayal. She had, impossibly, forgiven him.

But instead of relief, Elena felt… deflated. Shouldn’t there be fireworks? Shouldn’t she feel transformed, lighter, free? Instead, she just felt tired. Bone-tired. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your marrow and then sets up camp.

She mentioned it, almost embarrassedly, to her sister during their weekly phone call. “I’ve forgiven Marcus,” she said, the words tasting strange in her mouth.

“That’s good,” her sister replied absently, clearly distracted by her toddler’s demands in the background. “What are you doing for Dad’s birthday?”

That was it. The conversation moved on. No acknowledgement of the Everest she’d just climbed. No recognition of the emotional surgery she’d performed on herself without anaesthesia. Elena felt a fresh wave of something, not anger exactly, but disappointment. She’d expected… more.

What Elena didn’t realise was that she was waiting for external validation for an entirely internal achievement. She was waiting for someone else to hand her the gold star she needed to give herself.

That evening, Elena poured herself a glass of wine, something she rarely did on weeknights. The city lights twinkled below her, each one a life being lived, a story unfolding. She could smell the leather of her sofa, the faint vanilla from the candle she’d lit. The wine was crisp on her tongue, cold and sharp.

She raised her glass to her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. “Well done, Elena,” she whispered. The words felt ridiculous. Melodramatic. But also, somehow, necessary. “You did something really bloody hard, and you did it alone, and you did it anyway.”

The tears came then, hot and unexpected, streaming down her face in a way they hadn’t during all those months of anger and processing. These weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of recognition. Of finally, finally, acknowledging what she’d accomplished.

She’d forgiven someone who didn’t deserve it, not for him, but for herself. She’d chosen peace over vindication. She’d done the work when every instinct screamed to stay bitter, to nurse the wound, to make sure the world knew how wronged she’d been.

And nobody had noticed. Nobody except her.

In that moment, Elena understood something profound: the celebration, the congratulations, the recognition, it all had to come from within. She was the only witness to her own transformation. She was the only one who could truly comprehend what she’d survived and how she’d emerged on the other side.

Why Don’t We Congratulate Ourselves After Forgiveness?

The absence of self-congratulation following forgiveness isn’t accidental; it’s cultural, psychological, and deeply ingrained. I’ve spent two decades exploring this phenomenon with stressed professionals, and I’ve identified several reasons why we skip our own celebration party.

The Invisibility Problem

Forgiveness leaves no physical evidence. There’s no “before and after” photo opportunity. Your colleagues can’t see that you’ve shed 20 pounds of emotional baggage. Unlike external achievements, forgiveness is an internal revolution that looks utterly unremarkable from the outside. We’re conditioned to celebrate visible milestones, not invisible victories.

The “Should” Trap

Many people operate within a framework of shoulds. “I should be able to forgive.” “I should be the bigger person.” “I should have done this months ago.” When we frame forgiveness as an obligation rather than an achievement, we strip it of its celebratory potential. It becomes just another item ticked off an endless to-do list.

The Minimisation Reflex

Successful people are often experts at moving the goalposts on themselves. The moment they achieve something difficult, they immediately focus on what’s next or what’s still imperfect. “Yes, I forgave them, but I still feel sad sometimes.” “I’ve let it go, but I’m still dealing with the consequences.” This relentless focus on what remains undone prevents us from honouring what we’ve already accomplished.

The Humility Myth

There’s a pervasive belief, particularly in British culture, that celebrating yourself is somehow unseemly or arrogant. We’ve confused healthy self-recognition with narcissism. We’ve internalised the notion that proper people don’t make a fuss, even when they’ve done something extraordinary.

The Exhaustion Factor

Frankly, by the time you’ve completed the forgiveness process, you’re knackered. The last thing you want to do is organise a celebration. You just want to collapse on the sofa with a cup of tea and pretend to watch television whilst your brain finally, blissfully, quiets down.

But here’s what 15 years of hosting stress management retreats on the Camino de Santiago has taught me: the celebration isn’t optional. It’s not the cherry on top; it’s the final, crucial stage of the forgiveness process itself.

The Stages of Forgiveness

Understanding forgiveness as a staged process helps us recognise why congratulations matter. Drawing from psychological research and my own clinical experience, here are the stages most people traverse:

Stage One: Impact and Injury

This is the immediate aftermath of betrayal, loss, or harm. You’re in shock. The wound is fresh. Your nervous system is in fight-or-flight mode. This isn’t the time for forgiveness; this is the time for acknowledgement and self-protection. You’re simply trying to survive the emotional tsunami.

Stage Two: Anger and Blame

The shock wears off and fury rushes in to fill the space. This stage is necessary and healthy. Anger is information. It tells you that your boundaries were violated, that something precious was damaged. Many people try to skip this stage because anger feels uncomfortable or “unspiritual.” Don’t. Anger is the bridge between victimhood and empowerment.

Stage Three: Bargaining and Rumination

Your mind becomes a hamster wheel of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” You replay the situation endlessly, trying to find the moment where things went wrong, the place where you could have prevented the damage. This stage is exhausting and can last far longer than the others if you’re not careful.

Stage Four: Depression and Grief

You stop fighting reality and start feeling the full weight of your loss. This is where many people struggle most because they’re not accustomed to sitting with difficult emotions. They want to do something, fix something. But this stage requires you to simply feel.

Stage Five: Acceptance

This isn’t forgiveness yet. Acceptance means you’ve stopped fighting with reality. You’ve acknowledged that what happened, happened, and you cannot change it. You’ve integrated this painful truth into your life narrative.

Stage Six: Meaning-Making

Here, you begin to explore what this experience has taught you. How have you grown? What have you learned about yourself, about others, about life? This is where post-traumatic growth begins to emerge from post-traumatic stress.

Stage Seven: Forgiveness

Finally, you reach a place where the person or situation no longer holds power over your emotional wellbeing. You’ve released the need for revenge or vindication. You’ve chosen peace over being right. This doesn’t mean forgetting or excusing the behaviour. It means you’re no longer willing to let the past poison your present.

Stage Eight: Celebration (The Forgotten Stage)

This is where most people drop the ball. Having completed one of life’s most demanding emotional journeys, they simply… move on. They miss the crucial opportunity to consolidate the learning, reinforce the new neural pathways, and honour the incredible work they’ve done.

Each of these stages deserves attention and respect. The journey through forgiveness isn’t linear; you might circle back through stages, and that’s perfectly normal. But the celebration? That’s non-negotiable.

How Forgiveness Changes Everything: The Ripple Effect

When you forgive, you don’t just free yourself from the prison of resentment, you fundamentally alter your relationship with the world. This has implications far beyond your individual wellbeing.

Research in positive psychology demonstrates that forgiveness reduces stress hormones, lowers blood pressure, improves sleep quality, and strengthens immune function. These aren’t minor benefits; for busy executives and professionals already operating at maximum capacity, these improvements can mean the difference between thriving and burning out.

But the transformation extends further. When you model forgiveness, you give others permission to do the same. Your children watch how you handle betrayal and learn emotional resilience. Your team observes how you navigate conflict and learns that mistakes don’t define people. Your community witnesses your grace and remembers that redemption is possible.

I’ve written eight non-fiction books exploring divorce, loss, illness, and coping with change, Challenges and crises because I’ve seen firsthand how one person’s journey can illuminate the path for countless others. The 30-plus testimonials on my website aren’t just about individual transformations; they’re evidence of how personal healing ripples outward, touching everyone in its path.

Consider Elena from our earlier story. Her forgiveness of Marcus didn’t just free her from bitterness; it changed how she led her team. She became more patient with mistakes, more willing to have difficult conversations, more focused on solutions than blame. Her entire leadership style evolved because she’d done the internal work of forgiveness.

Your forgiveness journey, whatever form it takes, has the potential to be equally transformative, not just for you, but for everyone you encounter. That’s worth celebrating.

A Gratitude Practice to Sustain the Forgiveness Process

Each evening for the next seven days, write down three specific things you’re grateful for related to your forgiveness journey. These might include:

  • The strength you discovered you possessed
  • The people who supported you (even if they didn’t fully understand)
  • The lessons you learned about yourself
  • The damage you didn’t do
  • The peace you now experience
  • The freedom to move forward

This practice rewires your brain to associate forgiveness with positive outcomes rather than just the painful process.

Further Reading: Four Unconventional Books on Forgiveness

  1. “The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness” by Simon Wiesenthal – A Holocaust survivor’s meditation on whether some things are unforgivable. I include this because it honours the complexity of forgiveness and doesn’t offer easy answers.
  2. “Forgive for Good” by Dr Fred Luskin – Based on scientific research at Stanford University, this book provides evidence-based techniques for forgiveness. I appreciate that it treats forgiveness as a learnable skill rather than a personality trait.
  3. “Left to Tell” by Immaculรฉe Ilibagiza – A Rwandan genocide survivor’s journey to forgive her family’s killers. This book demonstrates the extraordinary capacity of the human spirit and makes our own forgiveness challenges feel navigable by comparison.
  4. “The Dance of Anger” by Harriet Lerner – While not exclusively about forgiveness, this book brilliantly explains why we must honour our anger before we can genuinely forgive. It’s the missing piece most forgiveness books ignore.

P.S. My book, “Embracing Change, in 10 minutes a day,” offers practical daily practices that support the forgiveness process by helping you navigate life transitions with greater ease and self-compassion.

Testimonial: Sarah’s Journey on the Camino

“I came to Dr Montagu’s Camino de Santiago walking retreat carrying three years of bitterness towards my ex-husband like a rucksack full of rocks. I thought I’d forgiven him, moved on, done the work. But during a storytelling circle with her Friesian horses, something cracked open. I realised I’d never actually congratulated myself for the forgiveness I’d already accomplished. I’d been so focused on what still hurt that I couldn’t see how far I’d travelled. Dr Montagu helped me understand that celebration isn’t self-indulgence; it’s completion. On the final day of the retreat, I stood on a hilltop in southwest France and literally applauded myself. It sounds ridiculous, but it was one of the most powerful moments of my life. I finally felt free.” โ€“ Sarah M., Management Consultant, London

FAQs: What You’re Really Asking About Forgiveness

Does forgiving someone mean I have to reconcile with them?

Absolutely not. Forgiveness is internal; reconciliation is external. Forgiveness means you’ve released the emotional charge around what happened. Reconciliation means re-establishing a relationship. You can forgive someone and never speak to them again. You can forgive and maintain firm boundaries. Forgiveness doesn’t require you to be naive or to put yourself back in harm’s way.

What if I’ve forgiven someone but still feel angry sometimes?

That’s completely normal. Forgiveness isn’t a permanent state of zen. It’s more like a direction you’re moving in. You might have moments where old anger flares up, especially if you encounter triggers. This doesn’t mean you haven’t truly forgiven; it means you’re human. The key is that the anger no longer dominates your emotional landscape or controls your decisions. “Emotional forgiveness is much harder and takes longer, as it’s common for those feelings to return on a regular basis,” says Dr. VanderWeele, co-director of the Initiative on Health, Religion, and Spirituality at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “This often happens when you think about the offender, or something triggers the memory, or you still suffer from the adverse consequences of the action.”

How do I know if I’ve actually forgiven someone or if I’m just suppressing my feelings?

Suppression requires constant energy to keep feelings pushed down. True forgiveness brings a sense of spaciousness and ease. Ask yourself: Can I think about this person or situation without my body tensing up? Am I free to talk about what happened without needing to make them the villain? Do I wish them ill or am I indifferent to their situation? Suppression feels heavy; forgiveness feels light.

Is it possible to forgive too quickly?

Yes. Rushed forgiveness is often spiritual bypassing, a way of avoiding the difficult emotions that need to be processed. Genuine forgiveness can’t be forced or hurried. If you’re pushing yourself to forgive because you “should” or because someone else expects it, you’re not actually forgiving, you’re performing forgiveness. Give yourself permission to move through the stages at your own pace.

Should I tell the person I’ve forgiven them?

It depends entirely on the situation and your motivations. Ask yourself why you want to tell them. Is it to free yourself from the need for their response? Is it to restore a relationship? Is it because you think it will help them? Sometimes sharing your forgiveness can be healing for both parties. Other times, it reopens wounds or creates expectations that aren’t healthy. The forgiveness itself doesn’t require their participation or acknowledgement.

Conclusion: The Standing Ovation

Here’s what I know after 20 years of working with stressed professionals and 15 years of walking the Camino de Santiago with people in transition: the hardest journeys are the ones nobody sees.

You’ve climbed a mountain that has no summit marker, run a race with no finish line tape, completed a transformation that leaves no visible scar. You’ve chosen peace over bitterness, grace over grudges, freedom over being right.

And you did it without a roadmap, without a cheering section, without any guarantee that it would work.

That deserves recognition. Not from me, not from the person you forgave, not from anyone else. It deserves recognition from you.

So here’s your permission slip: Stop waiting for someone else to notice. Stop minimising what you’ve accomplished. Stop moving immediately to the next challenge without pausing to honour this one.

Take a moment. Pour yourself that glass of wine or that perfect cup of tea. Stand in front of a mirror if you need to. And say the words out loud: “I forgive you, and I’m proud of myself for doing the work.”

You’ve earned it.

As the poet Maya Angelou so perfectly expressed: “It is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.” But I’d add this: another great gift you can give yourself to acknowledge that you’ve done it.

Congratulations. You’ve done something remarkable.

Your Next Step: The Inner Camino Experience

Imagine standing on a hillside in the sun-drenched southwest of France, the Pyrenees mountains magnificent in the distance, your feet on an ancient pilgrimage path that has witnessed a thousand years of transformation.

You walk sections of the historic Camino de Santiago, yes, but you’re not just covering physical distance, your’re traversing the internal landscape of personal growth.

Each day combines mindful walking through stunning French countryside with practical stress management tools drawn from my 20 years as a medical doctor specialising in stress-related conditions. We practice meditation and mindfulness exercises that calm your nervous system and create space for genuine peace. And perhaps most powerfully, we gather in storytelling circles with my Friesian horses, majestic beings whose quiet presence helps us access truths we’ve been carrying but haven’t yet spoken.

These aren’t ordinary retreats. They’re carefully crafted experiences where forgiveness is not just discussed but embodied. Where your achievements are witnessed and celebrated. Where you finally get the recognition and support your journey deserves.

The southwest of France provides the perfect backdrop for this work: rolling green hills, medieval villages, paths worn smooth by millions of pilgrims seeking their own answers. The slower pace, the absence of daily demands, the beauty of the landscape itself, it all conspire to help you finally breathe.

You’ve done the hard work of forgiveness. Now it’s time to consolidate that achievement, to integrate your learning, and to step fully into the next chapter of your life, whatever that might be.

Click Hereย to discover dates, programme details, and everything else you need to know about joining us.

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


Dr Margaretha Montagu is a medical doctor (MBChB, MRCGP), NLP Master Practitioner, Medical Hypnotherapist, and Life Transition Coach with 20 years of experience helping professionals manage stress and navigate life’s challenges. She is the author of eight non-fiction books and has guided hundreds of people through transformative experiences on the Camino de Santiago.

Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu โ€“ described as a โ€œgame changerโ€, โ€œgifted healerโ€, โ€œguiding lightโ€ and โ€œlife-enriching authorโ€ โ€“ 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 โ€“ virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

References

Mrรณz J, Kaleta K. Forgive, Let Go, and Stay Well! The Relationship between Forgiveness and Physical and Mental Health in Women and Men: The Mediating Role of Self-Consciousness. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2023 Jun 26;20(13):6229.ย 

Feng Gao, Yuanwei Li, Xuejun Bai, Forgiveness and subjective well-being: A meta-analysis review, Personality and Individual Differences, Volume 186, Part B, 2022, 111350, ISSN 0191-8869

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 โ€“ knowing the difference will save you from spectacular failures
  2. Human judgement, context, and emotional intelligence remain irreplaceable โ€“ 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 โ€“ not as programmers, but as strategic thinkers who know what questions to ask
  4. AI amplifies your strengths and weaknesses equally โ€“ 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 โ€“ 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 ยฃ3.7 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 โ€“ 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.” โ€“ 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.

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

Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu โ€“ described as a โ€œgame changerโ€, โ€œgifted healerโ€, โ€œguiding lightโ€ and โ€œlife-enriching authorโ€ โ€“ 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 โ€“ virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

Career Change Clarity: Why Your Next Move Feels Like Ordering at a New Restaurant

Career Change Clarity: Why Your Next Move Feels Like Ordering at a New Restaurant

What This Article Is About (In 20 Seconds): You’re accomplished, successful, probably brilliant at what you do. So why does figuring out your next career move feel like trying to assemble IKEA furniture in the dark? This article explores why career change decisions paralyse even the sharpest minds, features a proper story about a man who nearly drove himself mad trying to “optimise” his life pivot, and offers actually useful (not LinkedIn-poster-quote-useful) insights about finding clarity when you’re standing at a professional crossroads. If you’re tired of career advice that sounds like it was written by a motivational tea towel, read on.

Five Key Takeaways

  1. Clarity doesn’t arrive fully formed โ€“ it emerges through action, conversation, and allowing yourself to be delightfully uncertain
  2. Your next career move isn’t a puzzle to solve โ€“ it’s a story to write, with characters, plot twists, and the occasional villain (usually your own inner critic)
  3. The “perfect” career change doesn’t exist โ€“ but the right next chapter absolutely does
  4. Listening to your life’s whispers matters more than following industry trends or well-meaning advice from people who aren’t you
  5. Story is your secret weapon โ€“ the narratives you tell yourself shape the decisions you make more than any spreadsheet ever could

Introduction: The Paralysis of Infinite Possibility

Here’s the thing nobody mentions about being successful: the better you get at your career, the harder it becomes to change it.

When you’re starting out, every door feels like possibility. But once you’ve built something, achieved something, become known for something? Suddenly, thinking about a career change feels like standing on a cliff edge, wondering if you’re about to discover you can fly or just accelerate towards the ground at an alarming rate.

I’ve spent years running storytelling circles where executives, entrepreneurs, and professionals gather to share their narratives. And I can tell you this: the question “How do I get clarity on my next career move?” doesn’t come from people who lack ambition or capability. It comes from people who have too many options, too much at stake, and a brain that’s spectacularly good at creating elaborate disaster scenarios.

The search for clarity on a career change isn’t really about finding the right answer. It’s about learning to trust yourself in the fog, to take the first step when you can only see two feet in front of you, and to remember that your life is a story you’re writing, not a problem you’re solving.

Let me tell you about Andrew.

The Man Who Tried to Spreadsheet His Soul

Andrew Williams sat in my storytelling circle on a Tuesday evening, wearing what I’ve come to recognise as the uniform of the successfully miserable: expensive trainers, a cashmere jumper, and the facial expression of someone who’d just realised they’d been driving in the wrong direction for the past decade.

“I’ve made a spreadsheet,” he announced, producing his phone with the solemnity of someone presenting evidence at trial. “I’ve rated seventeen potential career options across twenty-three criteria. I’ve colour-coded the cells. I’ve even created a weighted scoring system that factors in financial impact, personal fulfilment, and geographical flexibility.”

He looked at us expectantly, waiting for applause or perhaps a slow clap of recognition for his analytical genius.

Sarah, a consultant who’d been with our circle for months, asked the question that changed everything: “What does your gut tell you?”

Andrew’s face did something extraordinary. It sort of, collapsed, like a sandcastle meeting its first wave. “My gut?” he repeated, as if she’d asked him to consult a Ouija board. “My gut is apparently rubbish at career decisions. That’s why I made the spreadsheet.”

We sat with that for a moment, the eight of us in that circle, the smell of fresh coffee mixing with the faint lavender someone had brought in a small diffuser. Outside, London traffic hummed its evening song. Inside, Andrew was about to crack open.

“The spreadsheet says I should take the CEO role in Singapore,” he continued, his voice tight, controlled. “Highest score. Best financial outcome. Prestigious. Everything I’m supposed to want.” He paused, and in that pause, you could hear everything he wasn’t saying. “But I, I feel sick every time I think about it.”

“Tell us about that,” I prompted gently.

And here’s what emerged, slowly, like morning light creeping across a bedroom floor:

Andrew had spent three months building that spreadsheet. He’d interviewed people in various industries, taken online assessments, read seven career books, and consulted two different career coaches. He’d approached his potential career change the way he’d approached everything else in his life: with rigour, discipline, and an almost violent determination to make the “right” choice.

But every time he tried to imagine himself in Singapore, in that corner office, leading that team, his body responded like he’d swallowed stones. His shoulders climbed towards his ears. His breathing shortened. At night, he’d wake up at 3 a.m. with his jaw clenched so tight he was giving himself headaches.

“What do you actually want?” someone asked.

Andrew laughed, a sound like glass breaking. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I’ve spent so long figuring out what I should want that I’ve genuinely forgotten how to want anything.”

He described his current role: managing director at a private equity firm, successful beyond any reasonable measure, respected by peers, financially comfortable. “On paper,” he said, and the two words hung there like a confession, “my life looks perfect.”

But here’s what Andrew’s life actually felt like, in the parts you couldn’t spreadsheet: Like walking on a tightrope made of other people’s expectations. Like playing a role in a play you’d never auditioned for. Like winning a game, you didn’t realise you’d stopped wanting to play.

“Describe a moment this week when you felt alive,” I suggested.

Andrew sat with that. The room held space for him, the way a good circle does. Someone shifted in their chair, the leather creaking softly. Outside, a siren wailed past, then faded.

“Saturday morning,” he finally said, his voice different now, quieter, more real. “I was helping my neighbour fix their garden wall. My hands were dirty. My back was aching. We were just, building something together. And I realised I was smiling. Actually smiling, not the corporate smile I’ve perfected for meetings, but the real thing.”

“What did that feel like?” Sarah asked.

“Like, remembering,” Andrew said. “Like remembering I’m a person, not just a career.”

Over the following weeks, Andrew kept coming back to the circle. He didn’t stop spreadsheets entirely (you can’t deprogram a consultant overnight), but he started paying attention to different data: the tightness in his chest during certain conversations, the ease he felt when discussing particular possibilities, the dreams that woke him not with anxiety but with strange excitement.

The career change he eventually pursued wasn’t on his original list of seventeen options. He partnered with a friend to create a consultancy focused on sustainable construction practices, working hands-on with projects, getting his boots muddy, building things that would outlast his tenure. It was financially risky, professionally unexpected, and exactly what his gut had been screaming at him to do.

“The spreadsheet would have rated this about 6 out of 10,” he told us months later, tanned from working outdoors, looking ten years younger. “But my life rates it about 11 out of 10.”

The story doesn’t end with Andrew riding off into the sunset, because real stories don’t end tidily. But it does continue with him living in a way that feels true, making decisions not from fear of failure but from curiosity about what might emerge. And that, it turns out, is what clarity actually looks like.

Why Career Change Decisions Break Our Brains

The difficulty with career change clarity isn’t that we lack information. We’re drowning in information. The challenge is that we’re trying to make a fundamentally creative decision using exclusively analytical tools.

Your next career move is an act of imagination. It requires you to envision a future self you’ve never met, in circumstances that don’t yet exist, solving problems you haven’t encountered. And then it asks you to bet your mortgage, your identity, and your professional reputation on that vision.

No wonder we panic.

The Myth of Perfect Information

We convince ourselves that with enough research, enough networking, enough informational interviews, we’ll achieve certainty. But career change clarity isn’t found in more data. It’s found in the courage to make meaning from the data you already have.

In my storytelling circles, I’ve watched brilliant people torture themselves with endless analysis, as if the perfect career move is hiding somewhere in their research, waiting to be discovered. But here’s the truth: you’re not discovering your next career. You’re creating it.

The Story You’re Already Telling Yourself

Pay attention to the narrative running in your head about your career change. Is it a story of escape? Of redemption? Of proving something? Of finally allowing yourself to want what you actually want?

These narratives shape your decisions more than any career counsellor ever could. Andrew’s original story was “I need to optimise my career trajectory.” His real story was “I need to remember how to be human.” The clarity came when he stopped trying to solve the first story and started honouring the second.

Your Body Knows Before Your Mind Does

We’re obsessed with thinking our way to clarity, but your body is giving you feedback constantly. That sinking feeling when someone suggests you pursue a particular path? That’s data. The unexpected energy you feel when discussing a specific opportunity? Also data.

Western professional culture has trained us to override these somatic responses, to treat them as noise rather than signal. But your nervous system is exquisitely attuned to what serves your wellbeing and what doesn’t. Learning to listen to it is perhaps the most valuable career change skill you can develop.

The Permission You’re Waiting For

Many of us are waiting for permission to want what we want. Permission from our industry, our peer group, our family, or that internalised voice that sounds suspiciously like every authority figure we’ve ever tried to impress.

Here’s your permission: You’re allowed to want something different than you wanted five years ago. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to pursue something that makes no sense to people who aren’t you. You’re allowed to define success on your own terms, even if those terms would disappoint your 25-year-old self.

Further Reading: Three Unconventional Books for Career Change Clarity

1. “The Crossroads of Should and Must” by Elle Luna

This slim, beautifully designed book asks the simplest and most devastating question: Are you living your Should or your Must? Luna writes about the difference between the life you think you’re supposed to want and the life that’s actually calling you. I chose this because it bypasses traditional career advice entirely and goes straight to the existential heart of the matter. It’s the book Andrew needed before he built his spreadsheet.

2. “Finite and Infinite Games” by James P. Carse

Don’t be fooled by the philosophical title. This book reframes how you think about your entire professional life. Carse distinguishes between “finite games” (played to win, with clear endpoints) and “infinite games” (played to keep playing, with evolving purposes). Most career change anxiety comes from treating your career as a finite game with winners and losers, when it’s actually an infinite game where the goal is continuous growth and meaning. Mind-bendingly useful.

3. “The Art of Gathering” by Priya Parker

Wait, a book about hosting events? Yes. Parker’s insights about creating meaningful gatherings translates directly to how you “gather” the various parts of yourself when contemplating a career change. She writes about purpose, about bringing your whole self to spaces, about the difference between going through the motions and creating genuine transformation. It’s secretly a book about how to approach any significant life transition with intention.

A Story from a Circle

“I came to the storytelling circle thinking I needed career advice. What I got was permission to tell the truth about what I was feeling, not just what I was thinking. Sharing my story with people who held space without judgment helped me hear what I’d been saying to myself for years but refusing to acknowledge. I didn’t find clarity through logic. I found it through story, through finally admitting what my life was whispering. Three months after that first circle, I resigned from a role everyone envied but I’d come to dread. The storytelling work didn’t give me answers, it gave me back my ability to listen to the questions that actually mattered.”
โ€” Rebecca M., Former Investment Banker

Five Sharp FAQs About Career Change Clarity

Q: How long should it take to get clarity on my next career move?

A: This is like asking how long it should take to write a novel. Some people need six months, some need three years, some wake up one morning with sudden clarity after a decade of wondering. Stop treating clarity as a destination with an ETA. Treat it as something that emerges through engagement with the question, not through waiting for the perfect answer to appear.

Q: What if I get clarity and then realise I was wrong?

A: Then you’ll have learned something invaluable and can adjust course. You’re not carving your career change into stone, you’re taking the next step in a direction that feels true right now. The fear of being “wrong” keeps more people stuck than actual wrong decisions ever do. Clarity isn’t about being certain forever, it’s about being clear enough to take the next step.

Q: Should I wait until I’m financially secure before pursuing a career change?

A: “Financially secure” is a moving target that often represents psychological safety more than actual numbers. Some people feel insecure with millions in the bank. Others feel secure enough to leap with three months’ savings. The question isn’t “Am I secure enough?” but “What’s the story I’m telling myself about money and risk?” Unpack that story first, then make the financial decision.

Q: What if my next career move disappoints people who’ve invested in my current path?

A: Those people’s disappointment is their story to manage, not yours. You don’t owe your life to anyone else’s expectations, no matter how well-meaning. Besides, the people who genuinely care about you want you to be fulfilled, not impressively miserable. And if they don’t? That’s valuable information about the relationship.

Q: How do I know if I’m seeking a career change or just running away from discomfort?

A: Beautiful question. Try this: imagine you’ve made the career change and you’re six months in. What discomfort are you hoping will have disappeared? Now imagine that discomfort followed you. Would you still want to be in that new role? If you’re moving towards something compelling, that’s usually a good sign. If you’re only moving away from something difficult, the discomfort tends to pack its bags and come along for the ride.

Conclusion: Career Change Courage

Clarity on your next career move isn’t something you find under a rock or download from the internet. It’s something you cultivate, like a skill or a garden. It emerges when you’re willing to tell yourself the truth, to listen to the quiet wisdom of your body, to treat your life as a story worth crafting with intention.

Andrew didn’t find clarity in his spreadsheet. He found it when he stopped trying to solve his life and started listening to it. When he noticed what made him feel alive versus what made him feel successfully dead inside. When he gave himself permission to want something that didn’t make sense on paper but made perfect sense in his bones.

Your next career move is waiting for you to stop optimising and start living. It’s waiting for you to trust that you already know more than you think you know. It’s waiting for you to be brave enough to take one step towards the story that’s calling you, even when you can’t see the entire path.

The clarity you seek isn’t in the future, it’s in your willingness to pay attention to the present. To the sensations in your body during different conversations. To the stories you tell about who you are and who you might become. To the whispers of longing you’ve been professionally trained to ignore.

You don’t need more information. You need more courage to act on what you already know.

Start Your Career Change Here: The Purpose Protocols

The Purpose Protocol isn’t another course promising overnight transformation or three easy steps to career clarity. It’s a thoughtfully designed journey for accomplished professionals who know they’re ready for their next chapter but aren’t quite sure how to write it. Through a combination of storytelling work, somatic awareness practices, and frameworks that honour both your analytical mind and your intuitive wisdom, the Purpose Protocol helps you discover what you actually want, not what you’re supposed to want. You’ll work with narrative tools that reveal the stories you’ve been telling yourself, somatic practices that help you listen to your body’s wisdom, and a supportive community of fellow travellers who understand that career change isn’t a problem to solve but a story to craft. The programme spans eight weeks, with live sessions, reflective exercises, and the kind of space where real clarity emerges, not from pushing harder but from finally allowing yourself to listen. If you’re tired of spreadsheets that don’t capture what matters and ready to approach your career change with both intelligence and heart, one of the Purpose Protocols might be exactly what you’ve been looking for.

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

“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

References

  • Masdonati, J., Frรฉsard, C. ร‰., & Parmentier, M. (2022). Involuntary Career Changes: A Lonesome Social Experience. Frontiers in Psychology, 13, 899051. This article explores how social environmentsโ€”including personal, work, and institutional relationshipsโ€”influence involuntary career changes. Findings highlight moments of loneliness, relational barriers, and the complex emotional landscape of adults forced to change careers due to unemployment or health issues.โ€‹
  • โ€œMaking the Difficult Career Transition: Writing the Next Chapterโ€ by P.J. Coppola (2022) A literature review on career transition and adaptability, emphasising the role of growth mindset, social support, strategic planning, and personal reflection in successful career changes. This article details both voluntary and involuntary transitions, suggesting that values, purpose, and emotional preparedness are vital for navigating these shifts.โ€‹
  • โ€œCareer transitions across the lifespan: A review and research agendaโ€ by J. Akkermans (2024) synthesises findings from over 93 longitudinal studies about career change, focusing on processual and lifespan perspectives. This review covers triggers, barriers, and outcomes of transitions at various life stages.โ€‹
  • โ€œA Review of Career Transition Trends for Womenโ€ by A. Deshpande (2023) analyses literature specific to women’s experiences of career transition, using bibliometric and thematic analysis to highlight unique challenges and patterns for female career changers.โ€‹
  • โ€œEmotional Well-Being Following a Later Life Career Changeโ€ by E.M. Vogelsang investigates well-being outcomes for older adults changing careers, emphasising the importance of agency and resources when navigating later-life transitions.

The Real Cause of Burnout

cause of burnout

We’ve been having the wrong conversation about what causes burnout.

The story goes like this: We’re all working too hard. We’re glorifying the grind. We need to set boundaries, take more vacations, and learn to say no. Hustle culture is toxic, and if we could just hustle less, we’d all feel so much better.

Five years ago, I had to rebuild my life from scratch. Was it difficult? Of course it was. But it was much, much easier than all the previous times I had to reinvent myself and reconstruct my life.

Why? Because I finally figured out what motivated me to make the change in the first place.

Purposelessness.

This led to an even more important understanding, that might indeed ruffle some feathers: The real cause of burnout is a lack of purpose.

The Not Altogether Innocent Hustle Culture Scapegoat

Don’t get me wrongโ€”I’m not here to defend 80-hour work weeks or the “sleep when you’re dead” crowd. But blaming hustle culture for our collective exhaustion is like blaming the fever for the infection. We’re treating the symptom and wondering why we’re not getting better.

The conventional wisdom says we’re burning out because we’re working too hard. The solution, then, is to work less. Take that sabbatical. Set those boundaries.

And yet, how many people do you know who’ve taken a two-week vacation only to return feeling exactly as unmotivated as when they left? Who spend their Sundays with a knot in their stomach that no amount of “self-care” can untie?

The vacation didn’t fail them. Their reasoning failed them.

The Purposeless Hustle Paradox

Here’s what I’ve observed after working with countless people navigating major life transitionsโ€”career changes, retirement, unexpected pivots: People will work incredibly hard, for incredibly long hours, on things they find seriously meaningful.

Think about the founder who’s launching a passion project. They’re working 14-hour days, fueled by cold coffee and sheer determination. Are they burned out? Sometimes physically tired, yes. But emotionally depleted? Rarely.

Consider the researcher on the verge of a breakthrough, or the artist finishing their masterpiece, or the person coordinating care for a loved one. These people are pouring immense energy into their workโ€”and they’re not scrolling through job boards at 2 AM wondering if this is all there is.

The difference isn’t the hours. It’s the why.

When you’re disconnected from your deeper purpose, hustle becomes a desperate attempt to find meaning in sheer volume. It’s like running on a treadmill in a burning buildingโ€”you’re expending tremendous energy, but you’re not actually getting anywhere, and the environment is slowly killing you.

The exhaustion doesn’t come from the movement. It comes from the futility.

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

The Vacation Band-Aid

I once worked with a clientโ€”let’s call her Sarahโ€”who was a director at a consulting firm. High achiever. Always delivered. Her calendar was a game of Tetris that would make your head spin.

She came to me after her third “burnout vacation” in two years. Each time, she’d take a week or two off, return feeling somewhat recharged, and within 72 hours, the dread would settle back in like London fog.

“I don’t understand,” she told me. “I’m doing everything right. I’m setting boundaries. I’m delegating. I even started therapy. Why do I still feel like I’m running on empty?”

Here’s what we discovered: Sarah wasn’t burned out from working too much. She was burned out from working on things that didn’t matter to her. She’d spent 15 years climbing a ladder that was leaning against the wrong building.

Her “hustle” wasn’t the problemโ€”it was her attempt to manufacture meaning through achievement. One more promotion. One more big client. One more accolade. Surely that would make it all feel worthwhile.

It never did.

The real breakthrough came when we stopped trying to fix her work-life balance and started examining her work-life alignment. What did she actually care about? What legacy did she want to create? What would make her excited to open her laptop on a Monday morning?

Within six months of realigning her role with her deeper purpose (in her case, mentoring emerging leaders rather than just managing projects), Sarah was working roughly the same hours. But the Sunday scaries vanished. The vacations became actually restorative, not just temporary reprieves from a life she was dreading.

She didn’t cure her burnout by working less. She cured it by working on what mattered.

Why We Confuse Exhaustion with Purposelessness

We’ve convinced ourselves that burnout is simply a resource management problem. Too much output, not enough input. The solution, we think, is to balance the equation: work less, rest more.

But this framing misses something crucial: Burnout isn’t about the quantity of energy expended. It’s about the quality of meaning implied.

You can be physically tired from meaningful work and still feel fulfilled. But no amount of rest can compensate for soul-crushing emptiness.

This is why the “work-life balance” conversation often feels so hollow. We’re optimising the wrong variable. It’s like trying to fix a broken marriage by scheduling more date nightsโ€”sure, it might help, but if the fundamental connection is missing, you’re just going through the motions.

The Life Transition Crucible

This disconnect between hustle and purpose becomes especially acute during major life transitions. Retirement. Career changes. Empty nesting. Unexpected health challenges.

These moments strip away the structures that once gave our days shapeโ€”and suddenly, we’re forced to confront a question we’ve been outrunning: Why am I even doing this?

Some people respond by hustling harder. They fill the void with more activities, more commitments, more busyness. They’re terrified of what they might discover in the silence.

Others swing the opposite direction. They embrace the “do less” narrative with religious fervour. They quit. They rest. They set boundaries. And they’re often surprised to find that the emptiness follows in their footsteps.

Neither approach works because neither addresses the real issue: the absence of a guiding purpose.

The Real Fix

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: You can’t hack your way out of purposelessness.

You can optimise your calendar, delegate tasks, set firmer boundaries, and take more vacationsโ€”and all of that might be helpful. But if you’re pouring your life force into work that feels fundamentally empty, no amount of optimisation will save you.

The real fix is deeper and more difficult. It requires asking questions like:

  • What do I actually care about?
  • What impact do I want to have on the world?
  • What would I do if I knew I couldn’t fail?
  • What would make me excited to get up in the morning?

These aren’t fluffy, abstract questions. They’re the foundation of sustainable energy. When you’re connected to your purpose, “work” stops feeling like something you have to recover from. It becomes something that fills you up, even when it’s hard.

This doesn’t mean every day will be blissful. Purpose-driven work can be exhausting, frustrating, and challenging. But it’s a fundamentally different kind of tiredโ€”the good tired, the satisfied tired, the “I’m building something that matters” tired.

A Different Question

So here’s what I’m curious about: Have you ever felt more energised by working 12 hours on something you love than 4 hours on something you don’t?

Have you experienced that paradox where you’re technically “working more” but somehow feel less burned out?

Or maybe you’re in the thick of it right nowโ€”feeling exhausted despite all the “right” self-care practices, wondering why rest isn’t restoring you.

I’d love to hear your experience. Because I think the more we talk about purpose as the antidote to burnout, the more we can move past the incomplete narrative that we just need to work less.

Sometimes the answer isn’t to step away from the fire. Sometimes it’s to find a fire worth tending.


If you’re navigating a major life transition and suspect your burnout might be a purpose problem, not a workload problem, I’d love to support you. My Purpose Pursuit protocol is designed for those who’ve never quite identified their deeper “why,” while the Purpose Pivot protocol helps those who need to realign their existing path with new chapters of life. Both include personalised one-on-one guidance to help you build a life that energises rather than depletes you. Drop me a message if you’d like to explore which approach might be right for you.

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

Author Bio: Dr Margaretha Montagu โ€“ described as a โ€œgame changerโ€, โ€œgifted healerโ€, โ€œguiding lightโ€ and โ€œlife-enriching authorโ€ โ€“ 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 โ€“ virtually, or with the assistance of her Friesian and Falabella horses, at their home in the southwest of France.

Stress isnโ€™t a productivity problem. Itโ€™s an identity crisis in disguise.

productivity

What this isn’t: Another productivity hack. Another time management system. Another “10 ways to optimise your morning routine” listicle. If you’re looking for tips on inbox zero or batch processing meetings, this isn’t your article. Also not here: toxic positivity or the suggestion that you simply need to “lean in” harder.

What this is: A wake-up call for high-achievers who’ve realised their calendar isn’t the problem, their relationship with themselves is. This is about the existential reckoning that happens when you’ve built your entire identity around being brilliant at your job, and then one day you wake up and wonder who you’d be without the title on your business card.

Read this if: You’ve achieved everything you set out to achieve and still feel hollow. You feel guilty when you’re not working. You’ve forgotten what you enjoy outside of professional achievement. You can run a multi-million pound operation but can’t remember the last time you felt genuinely at peace. Or if you’re simply curious about why your stress persists despite doing everything “right.”

Five Key Takeaways

  1. Burnout is rarely about workload, it’s about maintaining an identity that no longer fits who you’re becoming. The exhaustion comes from the constant performance of being who you think you should be.
  2. Your self-worth and your professional performance are not the same thing, though our achievement-obsessed culture has convinced you otherwise. Separating these is the most important leadership work you’ll ever do.
  3. The signs of identity crisis masquerading as stress include guilt during rest, inability to have non-work conversations, mood dependency on recent wins/losses, and feeling threatened by others’ success.
  4. Sustainable leadership requires internal work, not external systems. The leaders who thrive long-term aren’t the most productive, they’re the ones who know themselves beyond their accomplishments.
  5. Acknowledging this struggle isn’t weakness, it’s courage. The most dangerous leaders are the ones pretending they don’t question their identity. The most effective ones have done the hard work of separating who they are from what they do.

Introduction

Most high-performing leaders don’t burn out because they can’t manage their time. They burn out because they own an identity that’s silently cracking under pressure.

I’ve seen it happen dozens of times. Brilliant executives who can navigate complex mergers, inspire teams through impossible challenges, and make decisions that affect thousands of lives, suddenly finding themselves paralysed by a kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep can fix.

Because executive stress isn’t a productivity problem. It’s an identity crisis in disguise.

Think about it. You’ve spent decades building an identity around being the person who delivers, who solves problems, who never drops the ball. Your self-worth became intertwined with your performance. Your value as a human being got quietly attached to your value as a leader.

Then one day, the metrics shift. The goalposts move. The board wants different results. Your team needs a different kind of leadership. Or your body simply refuses to maintain the pace you’ve been running for the past fifteen years.

And suddenly, the identity you’ve carefully constructed starts to crack.

The hidden cost of “always on”

I remember a CEO telling me, “I don’t know who I am when I’m not solving problems.” She said it casually, almost laughing. But there was something haunting in that admission.

She had become so identified with her role as the fixer, the visionary, the one with all the answers, that the thought of stepping back felt like erasing herself. Her stress wasn’t about the hours she worked or the complexity of her challenges. It was about the existential threat of discovering she might be more than her achievements.

This is the trap: we build our entire sense of self around being exceptional at what we do. Then we wonder why we feel empty even when we succeed. We wonder why rest feels impossible. We wonder why we can’t shake the anxiety even when the quarter exceeds expectations.

The signs you might be managing an identity crisis, not a time management problem:

You feel guilty when you’re not working, even during designated time off. You struggle to have conversations that aren’t about work. Your mood is entirely dependent on your last win or loss. You’ve forgotten what you enjoy outside of professional achievement. You feel threatened when someone else succeeds or questions your approach.

If any of these resonate, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken. You’re just caught in a pattern that our high-achievement culture actively encourages.

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

What actually helps:

The answer isn’t another framework for peak performance. It’s not a better morning routine or a more sophisticated approach to inbox zero.

It starts with asking yourself a harder question: Who am I when I’m not producing, achieving, or proving my worth?

This isn’t soft. This is the hardest work a leader can do. It requires examining the stories you’ve been telling yourself about what makes you valuable. It means separating your identity from your outcomes. It means building a sense of self that isn’t dependent on external validation or constant achievement.

For some leaders, this looks like therapy. For others, it’s coaching, spiritual practice, or simply creating space for genuine self-reflection. The method matters less than the willingness to look honestly at what you’ve been running from.

The most valuable leaders aren’t the ones who’ve mastered productivity. They’re the ones who’ve done the internal work to know themselves beyond their titles and accomplishments.

They can weather setbacks without experiencing them as personal failures. They can celebrate others’ success without feeling diminished. They can rest without guilt because their worth isn’t tied to constant output. They can evolve their leadership style because they’re not desperately clinging to an identity that worked in a previous chapter.

If you’re reading this and feeling that uncomfortable recognition, I want you to know: acknowledging this isn’t weakness.

The leaders who pretend they don’t struggle with this are the ones who end up with health crises, broken relationships, and careers that implode spectacularly. The leaders who face it become more effective, more present, and infinitely more human.

The Story of Catherine Brennan

Catherine Brennan’s hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel in the executive car park at 11:47 on a Tuesday morning. The leather was cold beneath her palms despite the June heat radiating through the windscreen. She could smell the sharp, synthetic scent of the air freshener hanging from her rear-view mirror, mixed with the stale coffee from the cup sitting in the holder beside her.

She’d just walked out of a board meeting. Simply stood up, mid-presentation, mumbled something about feeling unwell, and left. Twenty-three years of impeccable professional conduct, and she’d walked out like a startled animal fleeing a predator.

The thing was, she wasn’t actually unwell. Not in any way she could name. Her chest felt tight, yes. Her vision had gone slightly fuzzy at the edges. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape. But these symptoms had become so familiar over the past eight months that she’d stopped registering them as unusual.

What had finally broken her wasn’t the workload. Catherine had managed impossible workloads before. She’d pulled off product launches that everyone said were doomed. She’d turned around underperforming divisions. She’d negotiated deals that made the business press write glowing profiles about her strategic brilliance.

No, what broke her was the question her new CFO had asked during the presentation: “Catherine, what’s your vision for who you want to become as a leader over the next five years?”

It should have been an easy question. She was the Chief Operating Officer of a major manufacturing firm. She had opinions on everything from supply chain optimisation to leadership development. She could talk for hours about strategic direction, market positioning, competitive advantage.

But in that moment, staring at twelve faces around the polished mahogany table, Catherine realised with horrifying clarity that she had absolutely no idea who she wanted to become. She only knew who she’d been trained to be. Who she’d been rewarded for being. Who everyone expected her to continue being.

And she was so achingly tired of being that person.

The truth had hit her with such force that she’d actually felt dizzy. The fluorescent lights had seemed too bright. The air conditioning too loud. She could hear her own pulse in her ears, could taste the metallic tang of panic in her mouth. Her colleague James had been speaking, she could see his lips moving, but the words sounded like they were coming from underwater.

That’s when she’d stood up and walked out.

Now, sitting in her car, Catherine pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. The plastic was warm from the sun. She could hear the distant sound of traffic from the main road, the rhythmic beeping of a lorry reversing somewhere in the industrial estate. Her phone was buzzing incessantly in her bag, the vibration creating a dull rattle against her keys and lipstick case.

She didn’t reach for it.

Instead, she found herself thinking about something that had happened three weeks earlier. She’d been at her daughter Emma’s school concert. Emma, fifteen and fiercely independent, had a solo in the choir performance. Catherine had arrived late, of course, slipping into the back row just as the lights dimmed. She’d spent the entire concert responding to emails on her phone, the screen brightness turned down low.

Afterwards, Emma had asked, “Did you hear my solo?”

“Of course,” Catherine had lied smoothly. “You were wonderful.”

Emma had looked at her with an expression Catherine couldn’t quite read. Not anger exactly. Something sadder. Resignation, perhaps. “You weren’t listening, Mum. I could see you on your phone.”

Catherine had started to protest, to explain about the urgent client situation, but Emma had just shrugged and walked away.

Sitting in the car park now, Catherine realised she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually listened to anything that wasn’t work-related. Couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fully present anywhere. Couldn’t remember who she was when she wasn’t being the Catherine Brennan who delivered results, exceeded targets, solved problems.

She’d built an entire identity around being exceptional. Around being the woman who could handle anything. The one who never cracked under pressure. The one who made it look effortless.

And now that identity was suffocating her.

Her phone stopped buzzing. In the sudden silence, Catherine could hear birds singing in the trees that lined the car park. When had she last noticed birdsong? She wound down the window slightly, and warm air rushed in, carrying the scent of cut grass from somewhere nearby.

For the first time in months, possibly years, Catherine let herself sit with the uncomfortable question: If she wasn’t the brilliant, tireless, always-on executive, then who was she?

The question terrified her. But somewhere underneath the terror was something else. Something that felt almost like relief.

The Hidden Architecture of Executive Identity

What Catherine experienced in that car park is far more common than most leaders admit. We spend decades constructing an identity around professional achievement, and then we wonder why we feel trapped, exhausted, and fundamentally disconnected from ourselves.

The architecture of this identity crisis follows a predictable pattern. First, we achieve something difficult. We get praised, promoted, and recognised. Our brain registers this: achievement equals worth. So we achieve more. The rewards increase. Our identity becomes increasingly entangled with our professional performance.

Then something shifts. Perhaps the goalpost moves. Perhaps our body refuses to maintain the pace. Perhaps we simply wake up one day and realise we’ve been performing a role for so long that we’ve forgotten it was a role at all.

The stress that follows isn’t about having too many meetings or insufficient delegation. It’s existential. It’s about the fundamental question of who we are when we’re not producing, achieving, or proving our worth.

This manifests in specific, recognisable ways. You feel guilty when you’re not working, even during designated time off. Rest feels like failure. You struggle to have conversations that aren’t about work because work has become your primary source of identity, meaning, and connection. Your mood becomes entirely dependent on your last win or loss, because you’ve outsourced your sense of self to external validation.

You might find yourself feeling threatened when someone else succeeds or questions your approach, because you’ve built your identity on being the one with the answers. You might discover you’ve forgotten what you enjoy outside of professional achievement, because you’ve systematically eliminated anything that doesn’t contribute to your professional identity.

The culture we work in actively encourages this pattern. We celebrate the leader who responds to emails at midnight. We admire the executive who hasn’t taken a proper holiday in years. We reward the person who makes their work their life. And we wonder why so many brilliant leaders eventually crash.

What makes this particularly insidious is that the traditional solutions don’t work. You can’t productivity-hack your way out of an identity crisis. You can’t delegate your way to wholeness. You can’t optimise your morning routine into self-knowledge.

The work required is far more fundamental. It requires examining the stories you’ve been telling yourself about what makes you valuable. It means separating your identity from your outcomes. It means building a sense of self that isn’t dependent on external validation or constant achievement.

This isn’t comfortable work. It requires sitting with difficult questions. Who am I beyond my job title? What do I value when no one’s watching? What would I do if I knew I couldn’t fail? What would I do if success wasn’t the point?

For many leaders, this involves confronting beliefs they’ve held since childhood. Perhaps you learned early that love was conditional on achievement. Perhaps you watched a parent derive all their worth from work. Perhaps you survived difficult circumstances by becoming exceptional, and now you don’t know how to stop performing excellence.

The journey out of this pattern isn’t about becoming less ambitious or lowering your standards. It’s about expanding your sense of self beyond your professional identity. It’s about recognising that you are infinitely more than your achievements, and that your worth is inherent, not earned.

The Ripple Effect

When a leader does this internal work, something remarkable happens. The effects ripple outward in ways that transform not just the individual, but their entire sphere of influence.

Catherine’s breakthrough in that car park was the beginning of a profound transformation that affected her family, her team, and eventually her entire organisation. When she stopped deriving all her worth from work, she became genuinely present with her daughter for the first time in years. Emma, who’d been withdrawing into sullen silence, began to open up. Their relationship, which had been transactional at best, deepened into real connection.

Her team noticed the change immediately. Catherine stopped micromanaging because she was no longer terrified that others’ failures would reflect on her worth. She began mentoring differently, focusing on developing people rather than extracting performance. Three team members who’d been planning to leave the company decided to stay. Two others found the courage to pursue projects they’d been too intimidated to suggest.

The organisation itself shifted. When a senior leader models the truth that worth and performance are separate, it gives permission for others to be human. Meetings became more honest. Innovation increased because people felt safe to fail. Collaboration improved because competition for worth wasn’t the subtext of every interaction.

But perhaps most importantly, Catherine’s willingness to face her identity crisis gave other leaders permission to examine their own. Her vulnerability created space for authentic conversation about the real challenges of leadership, the ones that don’t appear in annual reports or strategy documents.

This is the gift of doing your own internal work. You don’t just heal yourself. You create conditions for collective healing. You model what sustainable leadership actually looks like. You demonstrate that it’s possible to be both ambitious and whole, both successful and human.

Writing Prompt: Excavating Your Identity

Take twenty minutes with this prompt. Don’t think too hard. Let your hand move across the page and see what emerges.

“When I’m not being productive, I feel ___ because I believe ___ about who I am. If I knew my worth was inherent, not earned, I would ___.”

Don’t censor yourself. Don’t make it sound good. Just write honestly. This is for you alone.

Some questions to deepen your exploration:

  • What did you learn about worth and achievement in childhood?
  • What are you afraid would happen if you stopped performing excellence?
  • Who are you when no one’s watching and nothing needs to be accomplished?
  • What would you do if you knew you were already enough?

Five Sharp FAQs

Q: Isn’t it naive to separate identity from achievement in a competitive business environment?

A: Actually, it’s naive to believe sustainable high performance can come from a fragile identity dependent on constant external validation. The leaders who last are the ones who know themselves beyond their wins and losses. They can take risks because failure isn’t an existential threat. They innovate because they’re not desperately protecting an identity. Separating worth from achievement doesn’t make you less effective. It makes you infinitely more resilient.

Q: How do I know if I’m experiencing identity crisis or just normal work stress?

A: Normal work stress responds to rest, delegation, and time management. Identity crisis doesn’t. If you feel guilty when you’re not working, if your mood is entirely dependent on your last win, if you can’t remember who you are outside of work, if rest feels like failure, you’re dealing with something deeper than logistics. The simplest test: can you enjoy a weekend without checking email? Can you have a conversation that’s not about work? If the answer is no, start paying attention.

Q: Won’t addressing this make me less driven or ambitious?

A: This is the fear that keeps people trapped. But here’s what actually happens: when you stop deriving all your worth from achievement, you become more effective, not less. You make better decisions because you’re not frantically trying to prove yourself. You build better teams because you’re not threatened by others’ success. You take smarter risks because failure isn’t an identity crisis. You lead longer because you’re not burning yourself out maintaining a performance. Real ambition doesn’t require self-destruction.

Q: I’ve built my entire career on being the person who delivers. Won’t changing this threaten my position?

A: What threatens your position is burning out spectacularly because you never did this work. The leaders who lose everything are the ones who cling to an unsustainable identity until it breaks them. The leaders who thrive are the ones brave enough to evolve. You can still deliver exceptional results while also being a complete human being. In fact, you’ll deliver better results because you’ll have the resilience and perspective that comes from knowing yourself beyond your achievements.

Q: Where do I even start with this work?

A: Start by noticing. Notice when you feel guilty for not working. Notice when your mood shifts with your last email. Notice when you feel threatened by someone else’s success. Notice when you can’t be fully present. Don’t try to fix anything yet. Just notice. Then, find support. This might be therapy, coaching, a trusted mentor, or simply creating space for honest self-reflection. The work isn’t comfortable, but it’s infinitely more comfortable than continuing to live in a fragmented relationship with yourself.

Conclusion: Courageous Leadership

The most courageous thing a leader can do isn’t to achieve more, work harder, or deliver bigger results. It’s to look honestly at the identity they’ve constructed and ask if it’s still serving them, or if they’re now serving it.

This work isn’t soft. It’s the hardest work you’ll ever do. It requires confronting uncomfortable truths about why you drive yourself, what you’re running from, and who you’re afraid you’d be if you stopped performing.

But on the other side of this work is a kind of leadership that’s sustainable, authentic, and genuinely transformative. Leadership that doesn’t require you to sacrifice your humanity on the altar of achievement. Leadership that creates space for others to be whole. Leadership that changes not just organisations, but lives.

Catherine Brennan eventually went back into that building. But she went back different. She went back knowing that her worth wasn’t dependent on that board meeting, that presentation, or any outcome at all. She went back as a complete human being who happened to be brilliant at her job, rather than someone whose entire existence depended on being brilliant.

A Different Kind of Retreat

If this article has stirred something in you, if you’re recognising yourself in these words and feeling both terrified and relieved, I want to invite you to something genuinely different.

I run stress relief retreats on the Camino de Santiago in the south-west of France, but these aren’t your typical corporate wellness programmes with forced team-building exercises and motivational speakers. These are intimate, transformational experiences for leaders ready to do the real work of remembering who they are beyond their achievements.

We walk ancient pilgrimage paths together, creating space for the kind of reflection that’s impossible in your everyday environment. We practice mindfulness and meditation, not as productivity tools, but as ways of reconnecting with yourself. We gather in storytelling circles with my Friesian horses. There’s something profoundly healing about being witnessed by these magnificent creatures, who respond only to who you actually are, not to your title or your accomplishments.

The horses don’t care about your CV. They care about your presence, your authenticity, your capacity to be genuinely here, now. They’ll show you, with startling clarity, when you’re performing and when you’re real. It’s uncomfortable and extraordinary in equal measure.

These retreats are for leaders who know that sustainable success requires internal work, not just external systems. For people brave enough to acknowledge that the stress they’re experiencing might be pointing to something deeper. For those ready to explore who they are when they’re not producing, achieving, or proving their worth.

I keep the groups small because this work requires genuine intimacy and trust. I create space for rest, reflection, and honest conversation.

If you’re curious, you can learn more by clicking here.. But only if you’re ready. This isn’t about adding another achievement to your list. It’s about coming home to yourself.

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

If youโ€™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 isnโ€™t a quick fixโ€”itโ€™s about proven strategies to calm your nervous system, shift your mindset, and create sustainable resilience. No need to cope with this on your ownโ€”letโ€™s get you back on track.

“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

Sometimes the most powerful thing a leader can do is admit they’re human. And that being human is more than enough. Margaretha Montagu

Is My Stress and Anxiety Actually Harming My Long-Term Health?

Is My Stress and Anxiety Actually Harming My Long-Term Health?

What this is: A medically-informed, deeply human exploration of how chronic stress and anxiety can damage your body, brain, and futureโ€”and what you can actually do about it before the damage becomes irreversible.

What this isn’t: Another guilt-inducing wellness sermon telling you to “just breathe” or download a meditation app whilst your company burns and your inbox explodes.

Read this if: You’ve noticed your body keeping score (mysterious aches, erratic sleep, a immune system that’s clearly resigned from its post), you suspect your “high-functioning anxiety” might be a polite term for something more serious, or you’re exhausted from being exhausted.

Five Key Takeaways for the Relentlessly Driven

  1. Your stress response wasn’t designed for quarterly reports: Your ancient fight-or-flight system treats Monday morning emails like sabre-toothed tigers, flooding your body with cortisol that was meant to save your life for ten minutes, not poison it for ten years.
  2. The “successful stress carrier” is a medical myth: That romantic notion of thriving under pressure? Research shows chronic stress and anxiety actively shrink your hippocampus, age your cells faster, and increase your risk of heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and autoimmune conditions by 40-60%.
  3. Your body whispers before it screams: Tension headaches, digestive chaos, and that 3 a.m. wide-awake-worry sessions aren’t personality quirksโ€”they’re early warning systems that something fundamental needs recalibrating.
  4. Stress management techniques aren’t self-care fluff: They’re evidence-based interventions with measurable impact on inflammatory markers, telomere length, and disease progressionโ€”as powerful as many medications, but without the side effects.
  5. You can’t think your way out of a nervous system problem: Cognitive strategies help, but chronic stress reduction requires embodied practices that signal safety to your autonomic nervous systemโ€”movement, connection, nature, and nervous system regulation techniques that work below the level of conscious thought.

Reaching Your Breaking Point

Here’s the uncomfortable truth your last performance review didn’t mention: your body cannot distinguish between a genuine threat to your survival and a passive-aggressive email from your board chair.

The stress responseโ€”that magnificent evolutionary inheritance that once helped your ancestors outrun predatorsโ€”activates identically whether you’re facing a lion or a looming deadline. Your heart races. Your muscles tense. Cortisol floods your bloodstream. Blood diverts from your digestive system to your limbs. Your immune function temporarily suspends operations.

Brilliant design for a ten-minute crisis. Catastrophic design for a ten-year career.

Yet here you are: navigating restructures, managing difficult personalities, making decisions that affect hundreds of lives, responding to crises that genuinely matterโ€”all whilst your primitive nervous system mistakes your admirable dedication for mortal danger.

And the question that likely brought you here, the one you’ve been pushing aside between meetings, finally demands an answer: Is my stress and anxiety actually damaging my long-term health?

The short answer, delivered with twenty years of medical experience and the evidence base to support it: Yes. Absolutely. And probably more than you think.

Butโ€”and here’s where it gets interestingโ€”you’re asking the question. Which means you’re already halfway toward the most important health intervention of your professional life.

Amanda’s Story: Success’ Bitter After-Taste

Amanda Payne could tell you the exact moment her body started keeping different books than her brain.

It was 4:47 a.m. on a Wednesday in March, and she woke with her heart battering against her ribs like something caged and furious. The bedroom was dark, the duvet heavy, her husband’s breathing steady beside her. Nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Her mouth tasted like rusted metal. Her jaw ached from clenching. When she pressed her fingers to her neck, her pulse felt like someone frantically knocking on a door that wouldn’t open.

Amanda was 43, the CEO of a mid-sized tech consultancy she’d built from nothing over fifteen years. Brilliant at her work. Devoted to her team of 120 people who depended on her decisions. Recently promoted to the board of a national industry association. Mother to two teenagers who still, occasionally, needed her.

She was also, though she wouldn’t have used these words yet, drowning.

The panic attacksโ€”because that’s what they were, though she’d been calling them “stress reactions”โ€”had started six months earlier. First monthly, then weekly, now almost nightly. She’d scheduled a doctor’s appointment three times and cancelled three times because something urgent always erupted. Because she was fine. Because she could handle this.

The morning routine had become archaeological: excavating herself from anxiety’s layers. Shower hot enough to hurt, hoping to reset her nervous system. Coffee strong enough to override the trembling. Concealer thick enough to hide the shadows that had taken up permanent residence beneath her eyes.

She caught her reflection whilst brushing her teethโ€”electric toothbrush buzzing, mint sharpness in her mouthโ€”and barely recognised the woman staring back. When had her face become so thin? When had those lines carved themselves beside her mouth?

Amanda had always prided herself on her capacity. She could hold complexity, manage crises, make decisions under pressure. She was the person others turned to when things fell apart. Strong. Reliable. Unflappable.

Except her hands were flapping nowโ€”trembling, actuallyโ€”as she tried to fasten the tiny buttons of her blouse. The fabric felt wrong against her skin, everything felt wrong, the house too quiet and too loud simultaneously, the smell of coffee suddenly nauseating.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the mattress exhaling beneath her weight.

“Amanda?” Her husband’s voice, thick with sleep and worry. “Again?”

She nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat. His hand found her back, warm through the silk blouse, and she wanted to lean into it but couldn’t let herself soften. If she softened, she might break entirely.

The commute to the office felt like travelling through fog. Her chest remained tight, her breathing shallow. Twice, she had to pull over because her heart’s hammering made her feel certain she was dying.

Both times, after ten minutes, her heart settled. Both times, she told herself to stop being ridiculous.

The morning meetingโ€”glass-walled conference room, the bitter tang of too much coffee, voices presenting problems she was meant to solveโ€”blurred past. She took notes. Asked questions. Made decisions. All whilst her body screamed that something was terribly, urgently wrong.

Nobody noticed. She was very good at thisโ€”the performance of competence whilst her autonomic nervous system staged a coup.

But her body was noticing. Tracking. Recording.

The tension headaches that arrived at 2 p.m. daily like unwanted appointments. The digestive system that had apparently decided solid food was negotiable. The sleep that came in shallow, anxious snatches between 3 a.m. worry sessions. The immune system that seemed to have abandoned its postโ€”her third cold in as many months.

Amanda had started keeping antacids in every bag, ibuprofen in every drawer. She’d normalised functioning through discomfort, pushing past signals that used to mean something.

And then came the moment that changed everything.

A routine physicalโ€”the one she’d finally keptโ€”revealed blood pressure that made her doctor’s eyebrows rise. Inflammatory markers elevated. Cortisol levels, as her GP put it with careful gentleness, “chronically dysregulated.” Early signs of what could become serious cardiovascular risk.

“Amanda,” her doctor said, leaning forward with the particular expression doctors reserve for delivering difficult truths, “your body is working so hard to keep you functional that it’s beginning to break down the infrastructure. This level of chronic stress and anxiety isn’t sustainable. Not for months. Certainly not for years.”

She sat in the surgery car park afterwards, engine off, hands gripping the steering wheel, and finally let herself feel the full weight of what she’d been carrying. The fear she’d been outrunning. The truth her body had been trying to tell her in every language it knew.

She wasn’t managing the stress and anxiety. The stress and anxiety were managing her.

And something fundamental needed to changeโ€”not next quarter, not after the next big project, but now, before her body’s whisper became a scream she couldn’t ignore.

The Neuroscience of What’s Actually Happening Inside You

Let’s talk about what chronic stress and anxiety are doing to the remarkable machinery of your body.

Your stress response, the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, is a brilliant short-term survival system. When activated, it mobilises every resource toward immediate action: cortisol surges, glucose floods your bloodstream for quick energy, your heart rate and blood pressure spike, your immune system temporarily downregulates (because fighting infections is irrelevant if you’re about to be eaten).

Perfect for escaping predators. Devastating when activated forty times daily for eighteen months straight.

Here’s what the research, and my twenty years working with stress-related illness, reveals about chronic stress and anxiety’s long-term effects:

Cardiovascular consequences: Persistent stress hormones damage your blood vessel walls, promote plaque formation, increase blood pressure, and disrupt heart rhythm. Studies show chronic stress increases heart attack risk by 40% and stroke risk by nearly 50%. Your heart, quite literally, wears out faster under constant pressure.

Immune system suppression: Chronic cortisol exposure suppresses your immune response, making you more susceptible to infections, slowing wound healing, and potentially increasing cancer risk. That “getting sick every month” pattern? Your immune system waving a white flag.

Metabolic disruption: Stress hormones promote insulin resistance, increase appetite for high-calorie foods (your body thinks you’re in famine), encourage abdominal fat storage, and significantly increase Type 2 diabetes risk. The “stress weight” around your middle isn’t vanityโ€”it’s visceral fat that actively produces inflammatory chemicals.

Neurological impact: Chronic stress shrinks your hippocampus (memory centre), enlarges your amygdala (fear centre), and disrupts prefrontal cortex function (decision-making, emotional regulation). You’re not imagining that you can’t think clearlyโ€”stress is literally remodelling your brain toward anxiety and away from resilience.

Cellular ageing: Telomeresโ€”the protective caps on your chromosomesโ€”shorten faster under chronic stress, effectively ageing your cells more rapidly. You’re wearing out faster at the molecular level.

Gastrointestinal chaos: The gut-brain axis means your digestive system serves as a stress barometer. Chronic stress and anxiety alter gut bacteria composition, increase inflammation, and contribute to IBS, inflammatory bowel disease, and other digestive disorders.

But here’s what matters more than the frightening list: these processes aren’t inevitable. They’re reversible, especially when caught relatively early.

This is where my work over fifteen years hosting stress management retreats on the Camino de Santiago and developing burnout recovery programmes becomes relevant. I’ve witnessed hundreds of high-achieving professionalsโ€”people very much like youโ€”interrupt these destructive patterns and rebuild their health from the inside out.

The magic isn’t in the single intervention. It’s in the layered approach: nervous system regulation techniques, embodied stress reduction practices, connection and community, movement in nature, and the often-overlooked power of storytelling to metabolise difficult experiences.

I’ve seen how trauma-informed, body-based interventions can recalibrate a dysregulated stress response faster than cognitive strategies alone. Your nervous system needs proof of safety, not just thoughts about safety.

And this isn’t merely clinical observationโ€”it’s evidenced in the thirty-plus testimonials from retreat guests who’ve moved from burnout to breakthrough, confirmed by the research on nature-based interventions, mindfulness practices, and somatic therapies for chronic stress reduction.

Lupien SJ, Juster RP, Raymond C, Marin MF. The effects of chronic stress on the human brain: From neurotoxicity, to vulnerability, to opportunity. Front Neuroendocrinol. 2018 Apr;49:91-105.

Mariotti A. The effects of chronic stress on health: new insights into the molecular mechanisms of brain-body communication. Future Sci OA. 2015 Nov 1;1(3):FSO23.

Yaribeygi H, Panahi Y, Sahraei H, Johnston TP, Sahebkar A. The impact of stress on body function: A review. EXCLI J. 2017 Jul 21;16:1057-1072.

The Ripple Effect: How Your Stress Shapes Your World

Here’s what nobody tells you about healing chronic stress and anxiety: it’s not actually about you.

Yes, your health matters. Your well-being matters. Your right to feel like a human rather than a productivity machine matters enormously.

But when you address the stress and anxiety systematically eroding your health, you don’t just save yourself. You transform your entire ecosystem.

Consider the concentric circles: Your partner stops walking on eggshells, no longer trying to manage your nervous system alongside their own. Your children learn what healthy boundaries look like from observation, not lecture. Your team stops absorbing your unspoken tension and performs better because you’re genuinely present, not performing presence whilst drowning internally.

Your creativity returnsโ€”the kind of lateral thinking that solves intractable problemsโ€”because your prefrontal cortex isn’t constantly hijacked by survival responses. Your decision-making sharpens. Your emotional regulation improves. You become the leader your organisation actually needs, not just the one who shows up and pushes through.

I’ve written eight books on navigating life’s difficult passagesโ€”divorce, loss, unexpected illness, crisesโ€”because I’ve learned this truth: the most powerful healing isn’t solitary. It happens in relationship, in community, in the spaces where we dare to be witnessed in our vulnerability and discovered in our resilience.

This is why the storytelling circles I facilitateโ€”sometimes with retreat guests gathered around a fire, sometimes in virtual spaces with participants across continents, always in the gentle presence of my Friesian horses (Twiss, Kashkin, and Zorie) and Falabella ponies (Loki and Lito)โ€”create such profound shifts.

When you speak your truth and watch it land in compassionate witnesses, something fundamental changes. The shame and isolation that amplify stress and anxiety begin to dissolve. You realise you’re not uniquely brokenโ€”you’re humanly exhausted by inhuman demands.

And that realisation becomes the foundation for genuine, sustainable change.

Your Action-Oriented Writing Prompt: The Stress Inventory and Strategic Response

Take twenty minutes with this exercise. It’s designed not just for insight, but for immediate action planning.

Part One: The Honest Audit (10 minutes)

Complete these sentences without editing, judgement, or trying to make it sound reasonable:

  1. The physical signs my body uses to tell me I’m chronically stressed include…
  2. The situations or people that most reliably activate my stress response are…
  3. The stress management techniques I claim to use but actually don’t are…
  4. If I’m brutally honest, I avoid addressing my stress and anxiety because…
  5. The specific ways my stress impacts the people who depend on me include…

Part Two: The Strategic Intervention Plan (10 minutes)

Now, treating yourself as you would your most valued team member who came to you with this same list, answer:

  1. Immediate action (this week): What’s one embodied practice I can implement immediately that signals safety to my nervous system? (Examples: morning walk before devices, three minutes of conscious breathing before meetings, eating lunch away from my desk)
  2. Short-term intervention (this month): What professional support do I need to access? (Examples: GP appointment for baseline health assessment, therapist specialising in stress-related issues, stress management retreat or programme)
  3. Medium-term restructuring (this quarter): What boundary, responsibility, or expectation needs renegotiating to create sustainable functioning? Be specific about what you’ll say no to, delegate, or redesign.
  4. Long-term strategy (this year): What fundamental aspect of how I work, live, or relate to stress needs complete reimagining? What would I do if I took my health as seriously as my responsibilities?
  5. Accountability structure: Who will I share this plan with, and when will I report progress? (If the answer is “nobody,” that’s part of the problemโ€”isolation amplifies stress and anxiety.)

Share this with one trusted person within 48 hours. Tell them you’re taking your health seriously. Ask them to check in with you weekly. Watch how articulating it makes it real.

Further Reading: Five Unexpected Books for the Relentlessly Driven

1. “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk (2014)

Why this matters: Van der Kolk, a trauma researcher, reveals how stress and trauma literally reshape your brain and bodyโ€”but also provides evidence-based pathways to healing. For high-achievers who need to understand the neuroscience before they’ll commit to the practices, this is essential. It explains why you can’t think your way out of a nervous system problem.

2. “Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle” by Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski (2019)

Why this matters: The Nagoski sisters distinguish brilliantly between stressors (external) and stress (the internal response that must be metabolised). They provide practical, evidence-based strategies specifically for people who’ve been told to “just manage stress better” without being given actual tools. Their focus on completing the stress cycle through embodied practices is revolutionary for cognitive-focused professionals.

3. “Atlas of the Heart” by Brenรฉ Brown (2021)

Why this matters: Brown maps 87 emotions with precision, helping you distinguish between stress, anxiety, worry, and overwhelmโ€”each requiring different interventions. For people who’ve reduced their emotional vocabulary to “fine” or “stressed,” this creates the nuanced awareness necessary for targeted healing. You can’t address what you can’t accurately name.

4. “The Comfort Crisis” by Michael Easter (2021)

Why this matters: Easter explores how our relentless comfort-seeking and stress-avoiding paradoxically increase our stress and anxiety. Drawing on evolutionary biology and adventure, he makes a compelling case for strategic discomfort (cold exposure, nature immersion, physical challenge) as nervous system recalibration. Perfect for achievers who respond better to challenge than coddling.

5. “How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy” by Jenny Odell (2019)

Why this matters: Odell, an artist and professor, dismantles the productivity paradigm that drives chronic stress. She offers a radical reframing: your attention is your life, and learning to direct it intentionally rather than reactively is the most important skill for long-term health and flourishing. This isn’t a productivity hackโ€”it’s a philosophical intervention for people whose worth has become fused with their output.

P.S. If you’re hungry for structured, practical guidance, my two-day online course “Road Map to Resilience: From Burnout to Breakthrough” distils twenty years of clinical experience and fifteen years of retreat facilitation into actionable strategies for chronic stress reduction and nervous system regulation. It’s designed specifically for professionals who need evidence-based interventions they can implement immediately whilst navigating demanding careers.

If youโ€™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 isnโ€™t a quick fixโ€”itโ€™s about proven strategies to calm your nervous system, shift your mindset, and create sustainable resilience. No need to cope with this on your ownโ€”letโ€™s get you back on track.

From the Field: Voices of Transformation

From the Camino: Sarah T., Management Consultant, London

“I arrived at Dr. Montagu’s Camino de Santiago retreat certain I was fine, just ‘a bit run down.’ Three days of walking, mindfulness practices, and the profound gentleness of the storytelling circlesโ€”something broke open. Or perhaps broke through. I realised my body had been screaming for two years, and I’d been too busy achieving to listen. The combination of movement, nature, and being truly witnessed in my exhaustion without judgement gave me permission to finally admit I wasn’t managing the stressโ€”it was managing me. Six months later, my blood pressure is normal, I’m sleeping through the night, and I’ve restructured my entire practice around sustainability rather than survival. The horsesโ€”particularly Kashkin, who seemed to sense my nervous system better than I didโ€”taught me that presence is more powerful than performance. I return to the experience whenever I feel the old patterns creeping back.”

From the Virtual Storytelling Circle: Jennifer M., Chief Financial Officer, Toronto

“Joining Dr. Montagu’s storytelling circle felt like coming home to a part of myself I’d abandoned years ago. For ninety minutes every fortnight, I’m not the CFO holding it togetherโ€”I’m simply Jennifer, speaking and being heard without needing to perform competence. The other participantsโ€”all high-capacity professionals carrying similar burdensโ€”create a space where vulnerability becomes strength. I’ve shared things in these circles I’ve never told my therapist, partly because there’s no pathology in the listening, just compassionate witnessing. My stress and anxiety haven’t disappeared, but my relationship to them has transformed completely. I’ve learned to metabolise difficult experiences through story rather than storing them as tension in my body. The practice has been more effective for my chronic stress reduction than any pharmaceutical intervention I’ve tried.”

Five Razor-Sharp FAQs

Q: I genuinely don’t have time for stress management techniques. How do I address this if my schedule is already impossible?

A: This question reveals the problem’s core: you’re treating stress management as another task competing for time, rather than the foundation that makes everything else possible. Start microscopicallyโ€”two minutes of conscious breathing before your first meeting isn’t time you don’t have; it’s time that makes the next hour more effective. Chronic stress reduces your cognitive capacity by up to 50%. The question isn’t whether you have time for stress reduction; it’s whether you can afford not to.

Q: How do I know if my stress and anxiety levels require professional intervention versus self-management?

A: If in doubt, seek professional advice, and certainly if you’re experiencing: persistent physical symptoms (chest pain, chronic digestive issues, unexplained pain), significant sleep disruption, panic attacks, substance use to manage stress, thoughts of self-harm, or if stress is damaging important relationships.

Q: I’ve tried meditation and mindfulness apps, and they don’t work for me. What are the alternatives for chronic stress reduction?

A: Apps fail most high-achievers because they’re trying to impose calm from the top down onto a nervous system screaming from the bottom up. Try embodied approaches instead: vigorous exercise that metabolises stress hormones, cold water exposure that interrupts the stress response, nature immersion that naturally downregulates cortisol, somatic practices that release stored tension, creative expression that processes difficult emotions, or community connection that signals safety. Your nervous system needs physical proof, not just mental concepts. Match the intervention to your physiology.

Q: Can chronic stress actually be reversed, or have I already done permanent damage?

A: The human body is astonishingly resilient. Whilst some stress-related damage (particularly cardiovascular) may not be completely reversible, most physiological stress responses can improve dramatically with sustained intervention. Neuroplasticity means your brain can rebuild neural pathways; inflammatory markers decrease with stress reduction; immune function recovers; even telomere shortening can slow or stabilise. The key is “sustained”โ€”this isn’t a quick fix. But I’ve seen profound health restoration in people who’d been chronically stressed for decades once they committed to systematic change. Your body wants to heal; you simply need to create conditions that allow it.

Q: How do I maintain stress reduction practices when I return to the same high-pressure environment that created the problem?

A: Environment modification is crucial, but it’s not the whole answer. Yes, advocate for systemic changesโ€”reasonable workloads, clear boundaries, organisational culture shifts. But simultaneously, build stress resilience like you’d build any other critical capacity: through consistent practice, community accountability, and integration into your identity rather than your to-do list. The professionals who sustain change treat stress management like brushing teethโ€”non-negotiable daily hygiene, not optional self-care. They also build regular immersive experiences (retreats, courses, intensive workshops) that recalibrate their baseline when daily practices aren’t sufficient. Think of it as preventive maintenance rather than crisis intervention.

Conclusion: The Health Risk You Cannot Afford to Ignore

Here’s what I know after two decades of sitting with brilliant, exhausted professionals in crisis: you didn’t arrive at burnout and chronic stress through weakness. You arrived through strength applied in the wrong direction for too long.

Your capacity for endurance, your tolerance for discomfort, your ability to push throughโ€”these are genuine strengths. But like any strength overused, they’ve become your vulnerability.

The question isn’t whether your stress and anxiety are harming your long-term health. The evidence is clear: they are. The inflammatory markers, the cardiovascular risks, the accelerated cellular aging, the immune suppressionโ€”these aren’t theoretical. They’re measurable, progressive, and potentially irreversible if ignored long enough.

But the more important questionโ€”the one your body is asking with every tension headache, every sleepless night, every moment your heart races without reasonโ€”is this: What becomes possible when you finally take your health as seriously as your responsibilities?

When you treat stress reduction not as self-indulgence but as a strategic necessity?

When you recognise that sustainable excellence requires a sustainably healthy human at its centre?

Your body has been keeping score, whispering warnings you’ve been too busy to hear. But whispers can become conversations. Conversations can become transformations. And transformationsโ€”the deep, embodied kind that reset your nervous system and rebuild your resilienceโ€”can become the foundation for a genuinely sustainable life.

Not perfect. Not stress-free. But fundamentally viable in the long term.

You didn’t start reading this article accidentally. Some part of youโ€”the wise part that exists below your achieving, performing, pushing-through selfโ€”knows something needs to change.

Trust that knowing. It might just save your life.

An Invitation to The Camino Crossroads Retreat

Imagine this: standing at dawn on an ancient pilgrim path in the gentle hills of south-west France, mist rising from wildflower meadows, your breath steady and deep for the first time in months. No agenda but the path itself. No performance required. Just walking, breathing, becoming.

My Camino de Santiago walking retreat isn’t a holiday from your stressโ€”it’s a comprehensive intervention in how stress lives in your body and shapes your life.

Over several days of gentle walking on this UNESCO World Heritage trail, we layer proven stress management techniques into the natural rhythm of pilgrimage: daily mindfulness and meditation practices that train your nervous system toward regulation rather than reaction; somatic exercises that release years of stored tension from your tissues; and the transformative power of storytelling circles where you metabolise difficult experiences in compassionate community.

The walks themselves, through sunlit forests, past 12th-century chapels, across rolling countryside, provide what research confirms: nature immersion naturally reduces cortisol, lowers blood pressure, and restores depleted attentional resources. But the magic happens in the spaces between the walking.

In my storytelling circles, facilitated by my Friesian horses, something remarkable unfolds. These extraordinary creaturesโ€”with their attunement to nervous system states we haven’t yet learned to consciously recogniseโ€”create a presence that invites profound authenticity. In their gentle witness, guests find permission to speak truths they’ve been carrying alone, to be seen in their exhaustion without judgement, to discover they’re not uniquely broken but humanly overwhelmed.

The retreat combines the evidence-based practices I’ve refined through twenty years of medical practice with the embodied wisdom I’ve developed through fifteen years of hosting these transformative experiences. You’ll learn practical chronic stress reduction techniques you can integrate immediately into your demanding lifeโ€”but more importantly, you’ll experience what nervous system recalibration actually feels like in your body.

Small groups (maximum four guests) ensure genuine connection and individualised attention. Comfortable accommodation provides sanctuary. Delicious local food becomes part of the healing. And the paceโ€”deliberately slower than your ordinary lifeโ€”teaches your nervous system what “safe” actually feels like, creating a new baseline you can return to when stress threatens to overwhelm.

This isn’t escape. It’s strategic intervention for professionals who’ve been running on fumes and calling it fuel. It’s permission to take your health seriously before your body makes that decision for you.

The path awaits. So does the version of yourself you’ve been too busy to become.


Dr. Margaretha Montagu (MBChB, MRCGP) is a physician, NLP master practitioner, medical hypnotherapist, and life transition coach with two decades of experience supporting professionals through stress-inducing life changes and challenges and burnout recovery. She is the author of eight books on navigating life’s difficult passages and hosts transformative stress management retreats on the Camino de Santiago in south-west France.

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

Liminal Spaces: Did You Know That Success Makes You Rubbish At Waiting?

Did You Know That Success Makes You Rubbish At Waiting in Liminal spaces

Why the Most Successful People Struggle Most with Liminal Spaces (And What to Do About It)

What this is: A deep dive into why we find “in-between” moments excruciating, what anthropology teaches us about transformation, and how to stop filling every gap with frantic action.

What this isn’t: Another productivity hack, a call to “embrace the grind,” or advice to simply “be patient.” (If one more person tells you to journal about it…)

Read this if: You’ve ever stood in your kitchen at 3am wondering who you’re becoming, filled every silence with a new project, or felt genuine panic at the thought of not having a plan.

Time investment: 19 minutes that might save you years of running from the very spaces where transformation happens.

Five Key Takeaways for the Perpetually Productive

  1. Liminal spaces aren’t emptyโ€”they’re generative. The discomfort you feel isn’t weakness; it’s your psyche doing the deep work of reconstruction.
  2. Your leadership skills become liabilities here. The decisiveness that built your career will sabotage your transformation if you can’t resist the urge to “fix” the unknown.
  3. Community changes when you change. Your metamorphosis creates permission for others to enter their own in-between spaces.
  4. The body knows before the mind. Physical practices (walking, especially) allow processing that cognitive approaches can’t touch.
  5. There’s a map for this territory. Anthropologists have studied these transitions for over a centuryโ€”you’re not lost, you’re precisely where this transformation requires you to be.

Introduction to Liminal Spaces

Did you know that success makes you absolutely rubbish at waiting?

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

You’ve spent decades building a life where decisiveness is currency, where speed matters, where “I don’t know” feels like professional suicide. You’ve trained yourself to see problems as puzzles with solutions, uncertainty as something to eliminate rather than inhabit.

Then life cracks openโ€”redundancy, divorce, illness, the death of someone who shaped you, the slow-dawning realisation that the life you built doesn’t fit anymoreโ€”and suddenly you’re standing in a hallway with no map, no timeline, and no bloody idea which door to open next.

Your brain, that magnificent executive function machine, goes into overdrive. New business venture? Relationship? City? Identity? Pick one. Any one. Just pick something so we can stop this excruciating not-knowing.

But what if standing in the hallway itself is the point?

What if these liminal spacesโ€”these maddening, destabilising thresholds between one version of yourself and the nextโ€”aren’t obstacles to overcome but crucibles where the most profound transformations happen?

I’m Dr Margaretha Montagu, and I’ve spent twenty years as a GP watching high-functioning people unravel in these in-between moments, fifteen years hosting stress management retreats where executives walk the Camino de Santiago and discover that sometimes you have to move your body to shift your life, and countless hours in storytelling circles where the bravest thing anyone does is admit: I don’t know who I’m becoming, and it’s terrifying.

This isn’t theory. This is earned knowledge from my own relationships, from writing eight books about loss and transition, from holding space for dozens of guests who arrived at my retreats running from the very stillness they most needed.

Let me tell you about Corinne.

Corinne Smith and the Conference Room Cage

The air conditioning in the Zรผrich boardroom hummed the same note it had for seven years. Corinne could feel the vibration through her leather chair, a frequency she’d stopped consciously hearing around year three.

She pressed her nails into her palmsโ€”a habit she’d developed during particularly tedious presentationsโ€”and watched her managing director’s lips move. The words came from very far away: “restructuring,” “strategic realignment,” “your contribution has been invaluable.”

Corinne’s coffee had gone cold. She could see the film forming on its surface, iridescent and oily, catching the LED lights overhead. Her hands, she noticed with curious detachment, were completely steady. She’d given that presentation on Q3 projections just two hours ago. Had delivered it brilliantly, in fact. The numbers had been unassailable.

“We’d like to offer you a generous redundancy package,” the HR director was saying now, sliding a cream folder across the table. The folder made a whisper of sound against the wood. Corinne found herself fixated on that sound โ€” so very final.

In the lift going down twenty-three floors, she caught her reflection in the polished steel doors. The woman looking back wore a Jil Sander suit Corinne couldn’t really afford, carried a Tumi briefcase with a broken interior pocket she’d been meaning to repair for months, and had eyes that looked… wait, was that relief?

That night, Corinne sat on her balcony overlooking Lake Zรผrich and felt the May wind coming off the water, sharp enough to bite despite the warming season. She’d poured a glass of the Sancerre she’d been savingโ€”for what, exactly?โ€”and taken one sip before setting it down.

The city hummed below her: trams clanging, voices rising and falling in German and English and Italian, the thick smell of someone grilling bratwurst mixing with the mineral scent of the lake. She’d lived in this flat for six years, had learned which neighbours played piano on Thursday evenings and which ones argued in whispered French on Sundays, but sitting there she realised she’d never simply been here. Never sat without her laptop, without a conference call, without mentally reviewing tomorrow’s agenda.

The wind lifted a strand of hair across her face. She didn’t brush it away.

Three weeks later, she still hadn’t applied for a single position. Her LinkedIn profile sat dormant while recruiters’ messages piled up like unopened post. Her mentor left increasingly concerned voicemails: “Corinne, you’re one of the most talented strategists I know. Why aren’t you leveraging this moment?”

Why indeed?

She’d started walking. Not the purposeful stride from U-Bahn to office, but aimless wandering through neighbourhoods she’d glimpsed only from taxi windows. She discovered a Turkish cafรฉ where the owner made รงay so strong it could wake the dead, served in tulip-shaped glasses that burned her fingertips. She learned to say teลŸekkรผr ederimโ€”thank youโ€”and meant it in a way she hadn’t meant anything in years.

One morning, standing in a small park watching a father teach his daughter to ride a bicycleโ€”the child’s laughter piercing and pure as she wobbled and recovered, wobbled and recoveredโ€”Corinne felt something crack open in her chest. Not grief, exactly. Not joy. Something rawer, more primal.

She’d spent fifteen years becoming the youngest VP in her company’s European division. Had sacrificed relationships, health, the novel she’d dreamed of writing at twenty-five. Had built a life that looked, from the outside, like unqualified success.

And she’d been absolutely, crushingly miserable for at least seven of those years.

The realisation didn’t arrive as a dramatic revelation but as something she’d known all along and had been too frightenedโ€”or too busyโ€”to acknowledge. The redundancy hadn’t taken her job. It had removed the scaffolding that had been the only thing holding up a structure that was, she could see now, already collapsing.

Sitting in that park, with the smell of cut grass sharp in her nose and the sun warm on her closed eyelids, with the distant sound of the child’s delighted squeals and the closer sound of her own breath, Corinne understood something: she wasn’t lost. She was right where she needed to be. In the terrifying, exhilarating space between who she’d been and who she might become.

Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone and, instead of checking email, texted her sister in Cape Town: “I think I need to get away for a while.”

The reply came immediately: “About bloody time.”

For the first time in seven years, Corinne laughed until tears streamed down her face.

The Anthropology of Becoming: Understanding Liminal Spaces

The term “liminal” comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. Anthropologist Arnold van Gennep introduced the concept in 1909, studying rites of passage across cultures, but it was Victor Turner who, in the 1960s, truly illuminated what happens in these betwixt-and-between spaces.

Turner observed that liminal periodsโ€”whether in tribal initiation ceremonies or modern life transitionsโ€”share distinct characteristics. The normal rules don’t apply. Social hierarchies temporarily dissolve. The person in transition exists in a state of “structural invisibility”โ€”neither who they were nor who they’re becoming.

For high-achievers, this is absolutely maddening.

You’ve built your identity on productivity, clarity, and forward momentum. Your professional value rests on your ability to assess, decide, and execute. Suddenly, you’re in a space where none of those skills help. Worse, they actively hinder the process.

Because here’s what the research shows: liminal spaces are supposed to be disorienting. That disorientation isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrongโ€”it’s evidence that deep psychological reorganisation is happening. Your psyche is dismantling old structures to make room for new ones. That’s not comfortable work.

We respond to this discomfort by rushing into the next thing: the rebound relationship, the hasty career pivot, the geographic cure. I’ve learned to recognise the subtle ways we resist the very stillness that could transform us.

Hosting Camino de Santiago walking retreats, I’ve witnessed something remarkable: when you put the body in motion through beautiful landscape, the mind paradoxically finds the stillness it’s been fleeing. There’s something about the rhythm of walkingโ€”especially multi-day pilgrim walkingโ€”that allows processing to happen below the level of conscious thought.

The guests who arrive at my retreats in the south-west of France are typically running from something: a ended marriage, a cancer diagnosis, a career that stopped making sense. They expect I’ll help them “figure it out.” Instead, I invite them to stop figuring. To walk. To sit with my horses (especially Loki, and Lito have a gift for presence that humans struggle to match). To tell stories in circles where the only goal is witnessing, not solving.

What happens in these liminal spacesโ€”whether on the Camino or in the quiet of your own kitchen at 3amโ€”is that you stop performing competence and start discovering authenticity. The mask you’ve worn, sometimes for decades, begins to slip. And underneath? Often something truer, more vital, more aligned with who you actually are rather than who you thought you should be.

This transformation ripples outward. When you give yourself permission to not know everything right away, you create space for others to do the same. Your children see that uncertainty doesn’t equal failure. Your colleagues notice that strength can include vulnerability. Your friends gain permission to question their own unexamined assumptions.

I’ve written eight books about navigating unexpected transitionsโ€”divorce, loss, illness, crisisโ€”and the through-line in all of them is this: the people who try to speed through liminal spaces end up returning to them, often more painfully. The people who learn to temporarily inhabit the threshold, to let themselves be genuinely undone before reassembling, emerge with lives that actually fit them.

That’s not mystical thinking. That’s what forty-plus testimonials on my website reflect: transformation requires a willingness to temporarily not know what’s next, and that willingness is, for most successful people, the hardest work they’ll ever do.

Writing Prompt: Owning Your Threshold

Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Find somewhere you won’t be interrupted (harder than it sounds, I know).

Write, by hand if possible, a letter to yourself from the perspective of the liminal space itself. Let the threshold speak. What does this in-between place want you to know? What is it protecting you from rushing past? What gifts is it holding that you can only receive if you stay?

Don’t edit. Don’t make it sensible. Let it be strange, contradictory, raw. The point isn’t a finished productโ€”it’s accessing the wisdom that your relentlessly productive mind usually drowns out.

When the timer goes off, read what you’ve written. What surprised you? What made you uncomfortable? Those are probably the truths you most need to hear

Further Reading: Five Unconventional Books for the Liminal Space

1. The Liminality of Journeying: Internal and External Trips by Hazel Tucker (Editor)

Why this one: Unlike most self-help approaches, Tucker’s academic collection treats liminal space as worthy of rigorous study rather than something to overcome. For intellectually-minded readers who need permission to stop trying to “fix” their uncertainty, this book offers a framework that honours complexity. It’s dense, occasionally frustrating, and utterly illuminating for those who need to understand the “why” before accepting the “how.”

2. Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes by William Bridges

Why this one: Bridges distinguishes beautifully between change (external, circumstantial) and transition (internal, psychological). His “neutral zone” is another way of describing liminal space, and his decades of working with organisations gives this book a practical grounding that speaks to professional readers. Warning: it will make you realise how many transitions you’ve rushed through, which might sting.

3. The Creative Tarot: A Modern Guide to an Inspired Life by Jessa Crispin

Why this one: Bear with meโ€”I know tarot cards make some people twitchy. But Crispin’s book isn’t about fortune-telling; it’s about using archetypal images to access non-linear thinking. For people whose lives are dominated by logic and productivity, this offers a side door into intuitive wisdom. The liminal space demands different tools. This book provides some unexpected ones.

4. M Train by Patti Smith

Why this one: This isn’t a how-to book; it’s a meditation on loss, wandering, and the creative power of aimlessness. Smith writes about her own liminal spacesโ€”after her husband’s death, between projects, in the gaps of daily lifeโ€”with such exquisite attention that you begin to see your own in-between moments differently. For readers who resist self-help but respond to art, this is transformative medicine disguised as a memoir.

5. The Dip: A Little Book That Teaches You When to Quit (and When to Stick) by Seth Godin

Why this one: Counterintuitive choice, perhaps, but Godin’s short book addresses something crucial: not all thresholds lead somewhere you want to go. Some liminal spaces require deciding to walk away entirely. For achievers prone to powering through everything, this book gives permission to discern between a generative threshold and a dead end. That discernment is its own skill.

P.S. My own book, Embracing Change – in 10 Minutes a Day, offers a practical, accessible companion for anyone navigating unexpected transitions. It won’t tell you what to doโ€”instead, it gives you tools to find your own answers, ten minutes at a time. Because transformation doesn’t require grand gestures. It requires showing up, daily, to the work of becoming.


Voices from the Threshold

Sarah T., Management Consultant, London Camino de Santiago Walking Retreat

“I arrived in France absolutely certain I was there to ‘sort myself out’ after my divorce. I had a timeline: one week to process, grieve, and emerge with a plan. Dr Montagu took one look at me and said, ‘What if you don’t manage to sort anything out at all?’ I nearly left immediately.

Instead, I walked. Day after day through vineyards and villages, no agenda beyond putting one foot in front of the other. And somewhere around day four, walking in silence, I realised I’d been running from the not-knowing for two years. The retreat didn’t give me answers. It gave me permission to stop demanding them.

Three months later, I still don’t have my life ‘figured out.’ But I’m not terrified anymore. The horsesโ€”particularly Twiss, who seemed to sense my anxiety before I felt itโ€”taught me that presence doesn’t require certainty. That’s changed everything.”

Elena M., Entrepreneur, Amsterdam Virtual Storytelling Circle Participant

“I joined the storytelling circle reluctantly, as part of a leadership course. I’m Dutchโ€”we’re not known for emotional vulnerability. But the format is clever: you tell a story from your life, the group witnesses without advice or fixing, and somehow that simple act cracks something open.

When I shared about the liminal space between selling my business and knowing what came next, I expected judgment for not having a plan. Instead, three other members said, ‘Same here.’ We’ve become each other’s permission to not know. The circle meets monthly, and it’s become the one place where I don’t have to perform competence. That space has made me a better leader, actuallyโ€”less rigid, more human. Who knew vulnerability was a competitive advantage?”

Five Razor-Sharp FAQs

Q: How long will I be stuck in a liminal space, and how do I know when I’ve “emerged”?

There’s no standard timeline, which I know is maddening for planners. Some thresholds last weeks; others, years. You’ll know you’ve emerged not because you have all the answers, but because the uncertainty stops feeling like an emergency. The shift is subtleโ€”one day you notice you’re acting from clarity rather than reacting from fear.

Q: I’m supporting someone through a liminal space. How can I help without trying to fix them?

Ask questions. Offer presence, not solutions. “What’s it like for you right now?” is infinitely more helpful than “Have you considered…?” Resist the urge to fill their silences with advice. Your discomfort with their uncertainty is your work to manage, not theirs to alleviate.

Q: What if my liminal space is financially precarious? I can’t afford to “find myself” for months.

Absolutely fair. Liminal space doesn’t require quitting your job or radical external change. Some of the deepest threshold work happens while you’re still showing up daily to responsibilities. The question isn’t whether you maintain incomeโ€”it’s whether you can resist filling every gap with frantic activity. Can you create small pockets of not-knowing within a structured life?

Q: This sounds suspiciously like glorifying indecision. How is this different from just being stuck?

Brilliant question. Stuck feels dead, circular, like treading water. Liminal feels alive, uncertain, like standing at the edge of something. Stuck resists. Liminal allows. If you’re genuinely stuck, you know itโ€”there’s a dull, repetitive quality. If you’re liminal, it’s uncomfortable but generative. Still unsure? Try engaging actively with the space (walking, writing, talking) and notice what shifts.

Q: I’ve been in transition for years. At what point should I just make a bloody decision?

Sometimes the liminal space reveals that you’re waiting for external permission you need to give yourself. Or you’re mistaking “not knowing the perfect path” for “not knowing enough to take a step.” Here’s a test: if someone told you that you couldn’t fail, what would you choose? If an answer surfaces immediately, that’s your intuition trying to break through the committee of fears. Trust it.

Conclusion: The Courage to linger on the Threshold

Standing in the hallway between lives is not where you wanted to be. I understand. You’ve spent decades building the skills to avoid exactly this kind of uncertainty.

But here you are anyway.

Here’s what I’ve learned, from my own unexpected transitions and from holding space for hundreds of others navigating theirs: the people who try to sprint through these thresholds almost always end up circling back, forced to do the work they tried to skip. The people who find the courage to stayโ€”to be genuinely undone, to not know, to let the hallway reshape themโ€”emerge as more truthful versions of themselves.

Not better. Not fixed. More real.

Your highest achievement might not be the career you built or the challenges you conquered. It might be this: learning to stand in the terrifying in-between spaces and let yourself be transformed rather than armoured.

The hallway isn’t empty. It’s full of possibilities you can only access by staying long enough to see what it offers.

You’re not lost. You’re exactly where transformation requires you to be.

And you don’t have to do it alone.

An Invitation to Pause on the Threshold

The Camino de Santiago has been calling seekers into liminal space for over a thousand years. There’s something about walking day after day through changing landscapesโ€”your body in motion, your mind gradually quietingโ€”that allows transformation to happen without forcing it.

My Camino de Santiago Crossroads Retreat in the south-west of France offers a rare thing: permission to not have answers. Over six days, you walk sections of the ancient pilgrim route through vineyards, forests, and medieval villages. We practice mindfulness and meditation designed specifically for stress managementโ€”not to “fix” you, but to create space for whatever wants to emerge.

The retreat includes storytelling circles, both with fellow walkers and with my small herd. There’s something about sharing your story with a horse standing peacefully beside you, offering no judgment and no advice, that strips away pretence. The horses don’t care about your CV. They respond to who you are right now, in this moment, threshold and all.

This isn’t a wellness retreat promising to optimise your performance. It’s an invitation to step off the treadmill of constant productivity and discover what happens when you finally give yourself permission to be uncertain. To walk without knowing where you’re going. To tell your story without needing to have the ending figured out.

Small groups mean genuine connection. The rhythm of daily walking means your body processes what your mind can’t. The ancient energy of the Camino means you’re joining a tradition of seekers who’ve walked these paths for centuries, all looking for what can only be found in the liminal space between leaving and arriving.

If you’re standing in your own hallway right now, wondering if you have to figure it all out before you can move, consider this: sometimes the way forward is to walk, literally, into the uncertainty. To let your feet find the path your mind can’t yet see.

The Camino has a saying: The way is made by walking.

Perhaps it’s time to begin.

Foundations for Your Future Protocol – a fast-paced, high-impact, future-focused course that facilitates the construction of identity-shaping stories about your future self so that you can make the changes needed to avoid having to go through big life changes again and againโ€”without needing to process your past in depth and in detail.

“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

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