Countdown to Christmas Calendar Day 17

Theme: Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships

December 17, 2025 – 8 days to Christmas

Today’s Story: One Step at a Time

For Rosie.

Cรฉline had officially decided that life could take its unwanted diagnosis and kindly shove it into a snowdrift.

Preferably one a million miles from her little flat. Lourdes had turned itself into a Christmas snow globe: the Basilica glowing bright blue in the cold dusk, pilgrims queuing for crรชpes near the Gave de Pau, the deep, dark river glittering with reflections of twinkling lights, and cafรฉs steaming up their windows with the scent of cafรฉ crรจme and sugar-dusted beignets.

Cรฉline, however, was taking no part in any of it. She had been hibernating beneath an absurdly thick goose-down duvet for three days straight, cocooned in its protective warmth and, until a determined knock finally rattled her door.

โ€œOpen up,โ€ Jean called.

โ€œIโ€™m not here,โ€ Cรฉline croaked from under her duvet.

โ€œI can hear you not being here,โ€ he replied. โ€œOpen the door.โ€

She cracked the door open an inch. Jean stood there wrapped in layers of wool, and the unshakeable smugness of someone who knew he was doing the right thing. Snowflakes melted on his beard, forming tiny rivers that made him look like a Saint Bernard whoโ€™d had a spiritual revelation.

Cรฉline, horrified, stared at the shopping bag Jean had dropped on her kitchen table.

“No,” she said.

“Yes,” Jean replied, already unpacking: thermal base layers, waterproof shells, crampon-compatible boots and a sleeping bag rated to minus-twenty.

“I’m not going hiking.”

“Of course you are. It’s exactly what you need.”

“Jean, I have a medicalโ€””

“I know. The doctor told you six weeks ago. You’ve spent those six weeks in this apartment Googling symptoms and stalking sad people on the internet who have the same diagnosis. Wasting precious time. Now we’re going to the mountains because I’m your friend and I’ve decided to kidnap you for your own good. Legally ambiguous, maybe, but morally sound.”

Cรฉline looked at Jeanโ€”fifty-three, weathered by thirty years of guiding tourists up and down Pyrenean peaks. He wasn’t leaving. He’d stand there until she packed or until she called the police, and probably the police wouldn’t help, because he gave most of them their mountain rescue training.

โ€œIโ€™m not doing Christmas this year,โ€ she said.

โ€œFine,โ€ he said. โ€œThen weโ€™re going hiking.โ€

He shoved a thermos into her hands. It was warm. It smelled like hot chocolate. Dark, thick, sinful piping hot chocolate. She glared at it. He smirked.

โ€œYou monster,โ€ she whispered.

Before she had time to rally her defences, they were on their way. The trail to the cabin was blanketed in fresh snow, the kind that squeaked underfoot. The Pyrenees loomed on all sides, their peaks slicing the pale sky with the sort of majestic indifference only mountains can pull off. Pines sighed under the latest snowfall, and the cold stung Cรฉlineโ€™s cheeks, sharp and honest. Her breath puffed out in angry clouds. The air smelled of pine resin and something clean and newโ€”like the world had been scrubbed with mint.

She wanted to be home. She wanted her duvet. She wanted the version of her life that existed before her doctor dropped this diagnosis into her lap like an anvil from a great height.

Instead, she came to the belated conclusion that her friend Jean, whom she had known for thirty years, was a lunatic.

Every few minutes, she caught him glancing at herโ€”not with pity, but with a sort of practical attention, like he was checking the weather. She found that infuriatingly comforting.

They climbed for four hours. Jean didn’t talk about her diagnosis. Didn’t ask how she was feeling. Didn’t offer platitudes about staying positive or fighting through it. He just climbed, occasionally calling back practical things: “Watch that patch of ice,” “Use your poles here,” “See that ridge? That’s where we’re going. Yes, the one that looks a hundred miles away.”

“Why aren’t you asking me about it?” Cรฉline said, finally.

“About what?”

“The diagnosis. What it means. How I’m feeling. All the things everyone else asks.”

Jean bit into his chocolate, considering. “Because I figured you’ll tell me when you want to. Also, because right now, it really doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? Jean, my entire life justโ€””

“Your entire life is right here. This mountain. This moment. That ridge we’re climbing. The fact that your left crampon is slightly loose and you need to tighten it before we continue or you’ll twist your ankle.” He gestured at the vast landscape. “Everything else is just stories we tell ourselves.”

Cรฉline wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that it wasn’t that simple, that fear and uncertainty weren’t things you could just out-hike. But her crampon was loose. And the next section of the trail required focus or she’d fall. And arguing with Jean was like arguing with a mountain goatโ€”technically possible, but ultimately pointless.

She tightened her crampon. They kept climbing.

When they reached the top, the wind nearly blew them over. Below stretched a valley blanketed in white, a river frozen in thick, glassy swirls reflected the sky like a broken mirror.

Cรฉline stopped. Her heartbeatโ€”fast from the climb, fast from fear of her own futureโ€”slowed into something steadier.

โ€œItโ€™s beautiful,โ€ she said quietly.

โ€œYes,โ€ Jean said. โ€œStunningly so.โ€

She almost told him everything right thereโ€”about how terrified she was, how betrayed she felt by her own body, how every choice now tasted like uncertainty.

They reached the cabin by late afternoon on Christmas Eve. It was small, wooden, and crooked in the most charming way imaginable, like a house that had attempted to bow and gotten stuck halfway. Icicles hung like crystal daggers from the eaves.

Inside, the air was warmer than she expected, scented with woodsmoke and pine needles.

Jean hung a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights above the window.

Cรฉline raised an eyebrow. โ€œReally? Outdoor gear, yes. Emergency supplies, yes. But fairy lights?โ€

โ€œThere’s more to me than meets the eye, you know, โ€ he chuckled.

They ate thick winter soup, sept lรฉgumes, that warmed her from the inside out, spreading heat into places that had felt cold long before the snow came. They tucked into wild boar sausages roasted over the open fire, warm bread, and homemade butter. Afterwards, he poured her a small cup of mulled wine. The scent of citrus peel and cinnamon filled the cabin. Each sip was a tiny Christmas hug.

The wind howled relentlessly outside, but the cabin held firm.

Cรฉline lay in her sleeping bag, every muscle aching, and thought about the trail tomorrow. About placing one foot in front of the other. About how the present moment was the only moment that actually existed.

She slept better than she had in six weeks.

The next day, they left in darkness, headlamps cutting through the predawn cold. The trail was technicalโ€”crampons biting ice, hands on rock, exposure that made Cรฉline’s stomach drop.

Jean climbed with the steady rhythm of someone who’d done this a thousand times. Cรฉline followed, focused on nothing but the next handhold, the next step, the way her breath became ragged in the thin air.

The summit at sunrise: Cรฉline stood atop Taillon, all 3,144 meters of it, part of the Monte Perdido range, watching the world below ignite. Wave after wave of peaks, their jagged crowns drenched in gold, pink, and the faint lavender of early dawn. Below, the Cirque de Gavarnie yawned wide beneath themโ€”an immense, ice-armoured amphitheatre shimmering in the cold. Spain lay hazy and honey-coloured on the southern horizon; to the north, France dozed in shadowy blues, about to wake from the night. The world felt impossibly vast, utterly indifferent, and so heartbreakingly beautiful that her breath caught in her throat.

“Fifteen years ago,” Jean said, “I fell. Bad fall, shattered leg, three surgeries. Doctors said I’d never guide again. Maybe never climb properly again.”

Cรฉline looked at him. He’d never mentioned this.

“I spent six months convinced my life was over. Everything I wasโ€”mountain guide, climber, the person people trusted to keep them safeโ€”gone.” He gestured at the peaks around them. “Then a friend dragged me out here. Made me climb on crutches.”

“You got over it?”

“Eventually. Took two years. Different than before, harder in some ways, but I’m still here.” He turned to face her fully. “Your diagnosisโ€”it’s changed things. I know. It’s scary. The future’s uncertain. But Cรฉline, the future was always uncertain. We just pretended otherwise.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?”

Non. It’s supposed to be true.” He smiled. “You just climbed a mountain with a medical condition that terrifies you. You’ll climb other mountainsโ€”actual and metaphorical. Some days will be harder. Some days you’ll want to quit. But you know what? Just take it one step at a time. That’s all any of us can ever do.”

Jean produced wine he’d somehow packed, cheese, cold sausage, and a small chocolate bรปche de Noรซl that had survived the journey slightly crushed but otherwise intact.

Joyeux Noรซl,” he said, raising his tin cup.

“Merry Christmas. Thank you. For this. For not letting me disappear into the darkness.”

De rien. Friends don’t let friends Google their symptoms ad infinitum, alone in empty flats.” He cut the bรปche, handed her a piece. “Next year, we do the GR10. The whole thing. You, me, sixty days across the Pyrenees.”

“Jean, I don’t know if I canโ€””

“I know you don’t know. We plan it anyway. Make reservations. Buy maps. Give yourself something to train for.” He ate his chocolate.

They descended slowly, carefully, Cรฉline’s legs trembling with exhaustion. She realised that thisโ€”this was how you lived with uncertainty. Not by conquering fear, but by continuing to climb, one step at a time, all the way to whatever summits remained.

The Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships Masterplan

The holiday season is the perfect time to reconnect with old friends. Life transitions often pull us in different directions, but that doesnโ€™t mean the bond is lost. Sometimes, reaching out after years apart can feel like picking up right where you left off.

Think about someone youโ€™ve lost touch withโ€”a friend who once meant a lot to you. What would it feel like to reconnect? You might just reignite a friendship that brings new joy and comfort.

When a crisis makes you want to hide, call the friend who won’t let youโ€”the one who’ll drag you out of your apartment and make you do something physical, challenging, and completely unrelated to your problem. Accept the metaphorical shopping bag on your kitchen table. Go on the hike, take the class, do the thing that forces you into your body and out of your head.

Worst case scenario: You’re exhausted, slightly hypothermic, and still have the same problems you started with.

Best case scenario: You discover that fear is just another mountainโ€”terrifying but climbable if you focus on one step at a time, instead of the summit. Your friend who’s survived their own crisis shows you that strength isn’t fearlessness, it’s movement despite fear. You learn that the present momentโ€”crampon on ice, breath in cold air, one foot then the otherโ€”is the only moment you can actually control, and that’s enough. You plan impossible future hikes because planning means believing in a future, and believing means you’ve already started climbing out of the place where fear wanted you to stay forever, small and safe and frozen, and you realize that summitsโ€”actual and metaphoricalโ€”are still possible, and the friend who wouldn’t let you hide becomes the person who taught you that living with uncertainty means living anyway, one foot in front of the other, all the way up.

Newsletter Subscription

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

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

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

Your life just changed forever. This isn’t just another setbackโ€”it’s a fundamental shift in everything you thought you knew about what truly matters. In this groundbreaking guide, you’ll discover how to navigate the uncharted territory that follows a life-altering diagnosis. Unlike traditional self-help books that might offer vague platitudes, After the Diagnosis provides a practical framework for rebuilding your life when the foundations have been shaken.

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.

Countdown to Christmas Calendar Day 10

Theme: Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships

December 10, 2025 – 15 days to Christmas

Today’s Story: Chocolate, Sausage, and Salvation

Pierre stared at the email on his phone screen with the particular despair of someone who’d just watched their dreams get bureaucratically slaugthered. Again.

“Re: Mobile Food Service Permit Application #2847-B. Unfortunately, we require additional documentation regarding…”

He stopped reading. There were seventeen more paragraphs. There were always at least seventeen more paragraphs.

Behind him, his food truck La Route ร‰picรฉe, painted an optimistic orange-and-yellow, equipped with a state-of-the-art kitchen he’d gone into serious debt for, sat immobile in a parking lot on the outskirts of Bayonne. It had been sitting there for three months. Three months of paperwork. Three months of “just one more form.” Three months of watching the Christmas market seasonโ€”the lucrative, business-saving Christmas market season approach.

His phone rang. Maรฏa.

“You got the email,” she said. Not a question.

“How did youโ€””

“Because I know that sound you just made. The sound of a man being slowly strangled by French bureaucracy. Come to the shop. I have chocolate. Also, I have a plan.”

“I don’t need chocolate, I need a permitโ€””

“Everyone needs chocolate. Especially people lying to themselves about not needing chocolate.”

Maรฏa’s chocolaterie sat in the heart of old Bayonne, all exposed stone and wooden beams, the air thick with the smell of cocoa and caramelised sugar.

Maรฏa stood behind the counter wearing an apron that said “La Vie est Courte, Mangez du Chocolat“โ€”life is short, eat chocolate. She was thirty-two, Pierre’s age, and had somehow managed to build a successful business while he was fighting self-righteous bureaucrats who seemed to have a vendetta against him, personally.

She slid a plate across the counter. Three pieces of dark chocolate, each topped with something unexpected: espelette pepper, fleur de sel, smoked paprika.

“Eat,” she commanded. “Then we talk about your terrible decision-making.”

Somewhat miffed, Pierre nevertheless ate. The chocolate was perfectโ€”bitter, complex, the pepper building slowly at the back of his throat.

“You’re wasting your time,” Maรฏa said.

“Excuse me?”

“The permit. You’re fighting a system designed to make you quit. It’s nearly November. Even if you got approved tomorrowโ€”which you won’tโ€”you’d miss the entire Christmas season. Face it: your food truck is dead until January.”

Pierre felt something crack in his chest. Hearing it said out loud made it heart-wrenchingly real.

“So what am I supposed to do? Give up? Go back to working in someone else’s kitchen?”

Non.” Maรฏa leaned forward. “You take a stand at the Chocolate Fair.”

The Salon du Chocolat de Bayonneโ€”Bayonne’s famous chocolate fair. Chocolatiers from across the Basque Country and beyond set up elaborate stalls. Thousands of people attended. It was, essentially, chocolate Disneyland.

“I don’t make chocolate, Maรฏa. I makeโ€””

“Fusion cuisine that nobody can try because your truck is a very expensive parking ornament. I know.” She pulled out her phone, showed him photos. “I have a double stall this year. Very prestigious, corner position. I’m offering you half. You make a small menuโ€”four dishes, maybe fiveโ€”incorporating Basque chocolate. Savoury, sweet, whatever your brain comes up with. We split the space, split the costs, you get access to my permits and my suppliers.”

“That’s not my conceptโ€””

“Your concept is currently sitting in a parking lot, making no money AT ALL and crushing your soul. This is called adaptation. Also called not being a complete idiot.” The joy of having friends who don’t beat around the bush.

Pierre looked at the chocolate on the counter. At Maรฏa’s faceโ€”determined, certain, the expression of someone who’d already decided this was happening and was just waiting for him to catch up.

“I don’t know anything about cooking with chocolate.”

“Good thing your best friend is a chocolatier then, isn’t it?”

There were only five days left until the fair opened.

Maรฏa’s kitchen became a laboratory of taste bud destroying disasters. Pierre’s first attemptโ€”duck confit with chocolate moleโ€”was so rich it felt like eating velvet-covered concrete. His secondโ€”chocolate-espelette glazed pork bellyโ€”set off the smoke alarm and made Maรฏa’s assistant cry (probably from the pepper, though it was hard to tell). The third attemptโ€”chocolate-infused squid ink risottoโ€”looked like something dredged from the bottom of a gothic lake and tasted, according to Maรฏa, “like the ocean had a nervous breakdown and decided to punish humanity.” They tried to feed it to Maรฏa’s neighbour’s cat, who sniffed it once and walked away with visible disdain.

The chocolate and anchovy croquettes that were theoretically soundโ€”salty, bitter, friedโ€”but in practice tasted like Pierre had weaponised the concept of umami. Maรฏa took one bite, held up her hand for silence, chewed thoughtfully, then said, “I think you’ve created something that violates the Geneva Convention.”

“You’re thinking too complicated,” she said, rescuing the pork belly before it became charcoal. “This is Basque Country. People want familiar made interesting, not interesting made incomprehensible.”

“I don’t do familiar. I do fusionโ€””

“Fusion is just familiar ingredients having an identity crisis. Stop fighting your location. Use it.”

She handed him a bar of her signature dark chocolateโ€”70% cacao from Cameroonian beans, made in Bayonne for three generations. “Start here. What does this taste like?”

Pierre closed his eyes, let the chocolate melt on his tongue. “Earth. Smoke. Something almost savoury.”

Exactement. So use it that way. Think: what grows here? What do people eat here? How does chocolate fit?”

By day three, they had it:

Txistorra sausage with a chocolate-red wine reduction. The sausageโ€”spicy, fatty, distinctly Basqueโ€”cut by the bittersweet depth of Maรฏa’s chocolate and local Iroulรฉguy wine.

Pan-seared foie gras with a chocolate-and-pear compote. Controversial, decadent, impossible to stop eating.

Marmitakoโ€”traditional Basque tuna stewโ€”finished with a square of dark chocolate that melted into the broth, adding complexity without sweetness.

And for dessert: gรขteau Basque reimagined, filled with chocolate-cherry cream, topped with candied espelette.

“This,” Maรฏa said, tasting the tuna stew on day four, “this is what you should have been making all along. This is you, but also Basque. Fusion that makes sense.”

Pierre stared at her. “You just revolutionised my entire business concept in a kitchen the size of a closet.”

Eh oui, so I did. You’re welcome. Also, dinner is on you tonight.”

That year, the Chocolate Fair exploded with peopleโ€”locals, tourists, families with children hopped up on sugar samples, serious foodies with notebooks, everyone drawn by the smell of chocolate handmade-with-love and Pierre’s sausages sizzling on Maรฏa’s portable burner.

Their stall looked like controlled chaos. Maรฏa’s chocolates on one sideโ€”elegant, precisely arrangedโ€”Pierre’s pop-up kitchen on the other, steam rising, plates moving, the scent of his cooking cutting through the sweetness like a jazz note in a symphony.

By noon, they’d sold out of the foie gras.

By three, the tuna stew was gone.

By five, people were queuing thirty deep, phones out, taking photos of Pierre’s dishes, of Maรฏa’s chocolates, of the sign Pierre had hastily made: “Basque Fusionโ€”La Route ร‰picรฉe@Maรฏa Chocolaterie.”

A food critic from Sud Ouest approached tentatively, tasted everything, took notes with an expression that revealed nothing and everything. A chef from San Sebastiรกn tried the txistorra, closed his eyes, and said something in rapid Euskara that made Maรฏa laugh.

“What did he say?”

“That you’ve finally stopped being a Parisian chef pretending to understand the Basque Country and started being a Basque chef with a few promising ideas.”

Pierre wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. Didn’t matterโ€”the man bought six portions to take back to his restaurant.

By closing time, they were exhausted, depleted, covered in chocolate and olive oil and the particular satisfaction of having fed several hundred people something they’d remember. For a long time.

Maรฏa produced a bottle from under the counter. Patxaranโ€”traditional Basque sloe berry liqueur, dark red, smelling of anise and success.

“To adaptation,” she said, pouring two glasses.

“To friends with brilliant ideas,” Pierre countered.

They clinked glasses, drank, and watched the fair wind down around themโ€”the lights, the people, the success that had materialised from desperation and friendship and Maรฏa’s refusal to let Pierre’s concept die in a parking lot.

Pierre’s phone buzzed. An email. He almost ignored it.

The food critic. Five stars. Photos of every dish. Final line: “La Route ร‰picรฉe has found its routeโ€”and it runs directly through the Basque Country’s heart, with a stop at Maรฏa’s chocolaterie. Book ahead for January.”

“We’re doing this again,” Pierre said. “Not just Chocolate fairs in November. Christmas. New Year. Regular pop-ups. Your kitchen, my food, our collaboration.”

“Obviously. You think I’d let you go back to fighting permit applications alone? You’d starve.”

Pierre laughed, surveyed the disaster zone of their successful day, and thought about how sometimes the best business plan is just having someone who believes in you enough to hand you half their stall and say, “Now stop being stupid and cook.”

The Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships Masterplan

The holiday season is the perfect time to reconnect with old friends. Life transitions often pull us in different directions, but that doesnโ€™t mean the bond is lost. Sometimes, reaching out after years apart can feel like picking up right where you left off.

Think about someone youโ€™ve lost touch withโ€”a friend who once meant a lot to you. What would it feel like to reconnect? You might just reignite a friendship that brings new joy and comfort.

Next time you’re stuck in a professional or creative crisis, reach out to a friend who understands your fieldโ€”and be willing to accept help that looks different from what you imagined. Ask for advice. Accept the corner of someone’s stall, their kitchen, their contacts, their hard-won local knowledge. Be willing to adapt your vision to reality without abandoning what makes it yours.

Worst case scenario: Your collaboration doesn’t work, you spend a week trying something different, and you go back to your original plan with new insights.

Best case scenario: Your best friend revolutionises your entire business concept in five days, gives you access to their infrastructure and their community connections, challenges you to stop fighting your location and start using it, and accidentally creates a partnership that transforms both your businesses. You discover that adaptation isn’t failureโ€”it’s evolution, and sometimes the thing you thought was a compromise (chocolate in your savoury dishes, a pop-up instead of a food truck, fusion that respects its foundation) becomes the signature that makes everything work. You learn that friendship in business isn’t just emotional supportโ€”it’s someone handing you half their stall and saying “stop being stubborn, cook something,” and refusing to let your dream die in a parking lot because bureaucracy is terrible, but giving up is worse.

If you’re currently stuck in bureaucratic hell or professional limbo with a dream that’s going nowhere, what would your Maรฏa tell you to do differently?

Newsletter Subscription

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

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

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

I’ve lost count of the number of guests who have asked for the recipes of the dishes I serve during my retreats. I’ve finally gotten around to publishing my retreat recipe collection as an e-book. If you’re interested in nutrition, especially while you’re walking the Camino de Santiago, or you just love authentic French cuisine, here is a link to my ebook The Walking Gourmet: Essential Food Strategies for the French 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.

Countdown to Christmas Calendar – Day 7

days until Christmas

December 7, 2025 – 19 Days until Christmas

Theme: The Importance of Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships during Difficult Times

Today’s Story: Au Cafรฉ des Platanes

Friends as Chosen Family

The air outside the Cafรฉ des Platanes smelled like caramelised sugar, finest dark roast coffee, and old radiators working overtime against the sudden cold. A hand-lettered sign propped up in the window read “Atelier d’ร‰criture Crรฉativeโ€”Tout Les Mardis ร  19h” with a small fountain pen sketched beneath it.

Outside, Natalie was trying to keep her footing on the treacherous cobblestones. Through the steamed-up glass, she could see four women already seated at a corner table. Behind her, a group of laughing people was setting up the Christmas market on the town’s central squareโ€”wooden chalets strung with garlands, the smell of roasting chestnuts drifting on the cold air, someone testing speakers with a crackly recording of French carols.

She clutched her A4-sized notebook, containing a random collection of half-finished stories, against her chest like a shield.

You don’t have to go in, her brain offered helpfully. You could walk to the boulangerie, buy a croissant aux amandes, go home to your rented apartment, and curl up on the sofa with your cat and a chocolat chaud.

But her sister in London had been annoyingly insistent during their last video call: “You need to get out more. Mingle. Meet people. Join some groups. You moved to France to start a new chapter, not to become a hermit in a French flat, however cosy and comfortable.”

Natalie pushed open the door.

The brass bell above it jangled. Heads turned. The cafรฉ was pleasantly warm, despite the struggling heaters, all three-legged wooden tables and mismatched wooden chairs, strings of white lights woven around exposed beams. The room was dominated by a huge Christmas tree decorated with vintage postcards. A dog was fast asleep in a basket next to the roaring fireplace. French jazz played softly from speakers that had probably been installed in 1977.

Bonsoir, Madame et bienvenue!” A woman with silver-streaked hair in a violet scarf waved enthusiastically. “Vous รชtes lร  pour l’atelier de l’รฉcriture? Sorry, you’re here for the writing? I’m Patricia. British, been here twelve years, still can’t properly conjugate a single irregular verb. Sit, sitโ€”Marc will bring you something to drink.”

Marc, presumably the owner, appeared with a knowing smile and a cafรฉ crรจme.

The other women introduced themselves: Amara, French-Senegalese, with box braids and paint-stained fingers, who’d recently moved down from Paris; Jin, Korean-American, speaking careful French with a perfect accent that suggested expensive language lessons; Sophie, French, roughly Natalie’s age, wearing a sweatshirt that said “J’ai des sentiments mitigรฉs” and holding a large glass of dark red wine; and Lisa, Austrian, who still missed her children who had moved to Vienna and Stuttgart ten years ago.

“I’m Natalie. American. Moved here three months ago.” She settled into a chair that was actually comfortable, unlike the avarage plastic torture device in every community centre she’d ever entered in the States.

“Right,” Patricia said, adding sugar to her espresso with the dedication of someone who’d given up pretending to like it bitter, “who brought something to share?”

Silence. Outside, someone was hanging lights in the plane trees. The Christmas market music drowned out the cafรฉ’s jazzโ€”an accordion version of “Petit Papa Noรซl.”

“Right,” Patricia said. “First meeting nerves. perfectly understandable. Maybe we should start with why we’re here? I’ll go first. I’m recently widowed, my children in Manchester think I should sell this house and move into one of those ghastly retirement communities, and I’d rather eat my own boots. I’ve always wanted to write, but spent forty years convinced I had nothing interesting to say. Then Roger died last Christmas Eveโ€”horrible timingโ€”and suddenly I found I had rather a lot to say.”

The silence shiftedโ€”still dense, but less defensive. Someone’s phone buzzed. The dog in the basket snored.

“I’m going through a divorce,” Natalie heard herself say. “I used to write. Before I got married and somehow forgot I was a person with interests beyond making dinner reservations and pretending my husband’s jokes were funny.”

Sophie raised her glass of wine in a sardonic toast. “Similar situation, different catastrophe. Broke up with my boyfriend of seven years. He kept the Paris apartment, and I got the ancestral house in the countryside that needs new plumbing and possibly an exorcist. I know exactly four people here: my notaire, my pharmacist, the woman at the tabac, and the man who delivers my Amazon packages and definitely judges my life choices.”

Jin laughed softly. “Corporate burnout. Silicon Valley tech startup, eighty-hour weeks, stock options I never cashed because I was too busy building someone else’s dream. Had a panic attack during a funding presentation, decided France sounded ‘interesting,’ applied for a skills visa. My mother in Seoul is thrilled I’m finally ‘finding myself.’ She hopes it’s a phase.”

“Cancer,” Amara said simply, and the word landed like a stone in still water. Marc, delivering more coffee, squeezed her shoulder gently. “Courage, ma belle.” She smiled up at him. “Finished treatment in September. Everyone keeps congratulating me like I won a competition, but mostly I feel like someone took me apart and put me back together without looking at the instruction manual. Missing pieces, extra pieces in weird places. I’m trying to figure out who this version is.”

Lisa was last. She folded her hands around her steaming teaโ€”something herbal that smelled like Christmas spices. “Empty nest. Both children long grown and gone, living in cities I can barely afford to visit. Husband and I looked at each other across the breakfast table six months ago and realised we’d forgotten how to talk about anything except the children. So I came hereโ€”this was my grandmother’s house, left to me. He stayed in Austria. We’re… figuring it out.”

Patricia looked around the table at this mismatched collection of women. “Well,” she said, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “at least we have lots of life experience. Writers need material. Nothing says ‘compelling narrative’ like an existential crisis during the most wonderful time of the year.”

Someone giggled nervously. Soon they were all laughing, with relief mostly, at not having to pretend everything was magical just because there were Christmas lights everywhere.

“Right,” Patricia said, pulling out a battered Moleskine. “I brought a short story. It’s probably dreadful. It’s about a woman who ‘accidentally’ destroys her husband’s antique cricket bat collection.”

“I need to hear this immediately,” Sophie said, refilling her wine glass.

Soon, they developed habits.

Patricia always arrived first, claiming the corner table near the radiator. Marc would have their usual drinks readyโ€”cafรฉ crรจme for Natalie, espresso for Patricia, dark Madiran wine for Sophie (“An acquired taste,” she insisted), ginger tea for Lisa, and hot, melted chocolate for Amara, who said after chemo everything else tasted like metal. Jin brought pastriesโ€”sometimes kouign-amann from the Breton bakery, sometimes pain aux raisins, once an entire galette des rois, even though it was barely December. Amara sketched in the margins while people read, creating tiny illustrations of their stories. Lisa had started bringing stollen from the German bakery one town over. Sophie appointed herself sommelier, bringing different wines each week and explaining their terroir with the seriousness of someone who’d grown up in wine country. Natalie, who’d barely spoken that first week, now brought printed copies of her work, her confidence growing like a seed tentatively reaching toward the light.

They wrote about everything. Amara wrote speculative fiction where women with bodies that had betrayed them transformed into creatures with wings. Jin wrote sharp, funny essays about the tech world that had chewed her up. Lisa wrote aching pieces about the rooms filled with ghosts her children left behind. Sophie wrote experimental poetry that made no sense grammatically in either French or English but somehow captured exactly what heartbreak felt like at 3 AM in an empty house that creaked with loneliness. Patricia was working on a novel about a woman who started by destroying her husband’s cricket bat collection and then moved on to ever more ambitious targets.

“It’s very therapeutic,” Patricia explained.

“It’s slightly concerning,” Jin said.

Et alors?” Patricia teased.

Natalie wrote about divorce, but sidewaysโ€”stories about women who woke up in different countries, living different lives, in different dimensions where they’d made different choices. Stories about becoming unrecognisable to yourself in foreign languages.

“These are good,” Amara said after Natalie finished reading one evening. Outside, the Christmas market was still in full swingโ€”carousel music drifting across the square, the smell of vin chaud and croustade, children shrieking with joy near the ice rink they’d set up. “Like, actually good. Vraiment. You should submit this somewhere.”

“Oh, I don’t knowโ€””

“Submit it,” Sophie said firmly. “We’re not doing that thing where we diminish our own work because we’re women who were socialised to apologise for existing, in three languages.”

The meetings stretched longer. Till eight, then nine, then Marc would finally start stacking chairs around them, and they’d realise it was past eleven and he wanted to go home. They exchanged phone numbers. Started a WhatsApp group that soon featured the best writing memes, recipe exchanges and 2 AM messages like “cannot sleep, obsessing about mortality, someone send cat videos.”

When Natalie’s ex-husband got engaged, she texted the group at 11 PM: Is it normal to want to set things on fire? Asking for a friend.

Five responses came within minutes: Very normal (Patricia) What things? Be specific (Jin) I’m bringing wine (Sophie) Coming over with cookies straight-from-the-oven (Lisa) Already in my car, be there in 10 (Amara)

They all showed up at her flat. Brought wine, melt-in-the-mouth cookies, and Patricia’s latest chapter, which involved increasingly creative uses of sporting equipment as murder weapons.

“I’m fine,” Natalie said, which was a lie, and they all knew it.

Bien sรปr,” Lisa said, opening the wine. “That’s why we’re here. To be fine together.”

They stayed until 2 AM, reading terrible reviews of her ex-husband’s favourite restaurant aloud in dramatic voices, workshop-editing Patricia’s murder scene (“More visceral! More conviction!”), and letting Natalie cry when she finally stopped pretending she wasn’t going to. Outside, everything was silent except for the wind whipping around the bare branches of sleeping trees and the distant sound of church bells marking the hour.

On Christmas Eve, they met at Patricia’s house, which smelled of pine needles, woodsmoke, and pain d’รฉpices. Candles flickered on every surface. And over the fireplace, stockings hungโ€”six of them, each in a different fabric, clearly handmade.

“I may have gotten carried away,” Patricia said, catching Natalie’s look.

Each stocking had a name stitched on it: Patricia. Amara. Jin (in Hangul). Sophie. Lisa. Natalie.

Something in Natalie’s chest cracked open.

They settled into Patricia’s living room with champagne and sablรฉs and the particular comfort of a space warmed by both fire and friendship.

They talked about the year, about survival, about the strange gift of falling apart in good company in a foreign country where even buying stamps was an adventure.

“I joined this group,” Natalie said quietly, “because I was desperately lonely and my sister threatened to fly here and physically drag me to social events. I thought I was coming to practice writing in my second language.”

“Plot twist,” Sophie said. “Tu as trouvรฉ une famille.”

“Very Hallmark Channel of us,” Jin added.

“I’m serious. A year ago, I didn’t know any of you. I was married and miserable in a different country. I thought moving to France would fix me, or at least give me a better choice of cheese while I figured my life out. And instead I foundโ€”” She gestured helplessly at the room, the stockings, the faces watching her with understanding from four different continents. “This.”

“Through the universal language of the written word,” Patricia said. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed midnight.

Outside, church bells rang Christmas Eve into being. Marc texted the group chat a photo of the cafรฉ’s Christmas tree with the message “Joyeux Noรซl, mes รฉcrivaines prรฉfรฉrรฉes,” and somewhere in the warmth of that room was every good reason to keep showing up, keep trying, keep believing that the best things in life often come disguised as Tuesday night writing groups in cafรฉs that smell like coffee and caramel and hope.

Mardi prochain?” Lisa asked.

Mardi prochain,” they agreed.

Today, join one groupโ€”online or in personโ€”centred around something you genuinely care about, even if (especially if) you’re going through a difficult time and even if it’s in a language you’re still learning. Book club. Writing group. Hiking club. Cooking class. Language exchange. Art workshop. Choir. Whatever sparks even mild interest.
Worst case scenario: You spend a few Tuesday evenings with people who share one interest, stumble through conversations in mixed languages, and decide it’s not for you. Best case scenario: You walk into a cafรฉ and walk out six months later with five people from four continents who have stockings with your name on them, who show up at midnight when you’re falling apart, who become the family you didn’t know you were building while you thought you were just learning to write better dialogue in your second language. Tuesday after Tuesday, story after story, crisis after crisis, until one day you realise you’re not alone anymore in this foreign country and you haven’t been for a while, and the word “home” suddenly means something different than it did when you arrived.

Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships Masterplan

The holidays can highlight the importance of family, especially if you’re going struggling through a major life crisis, but for some, traditional family relationships may feel strained or distant. This is where friends can become your chosen familyโ€”a group of people who truly see, accept, and support you.

Maybe take a moment to appreciate the friends whoโ€™ve stepped into that role in your life? These relationships are a testament to the idea that family isnโ€™t always about bloodโ€”itโ€™s about love, loyalty, and shared experiences.

How well do you know your new friends? If you and a new friend are really compatible? For my Radical Renaissance students, I have created a set of light-hearted quizzes, quotes and questions about frienship, as I firmly believe a strong support group is invaluable in a crisis. Just fill in the form below and you’ll get immediate access to them all. I’ll also add you to my newsletter list, though you can unsubscribe from this list effortlessly and at any time. Included:

– How well do you know your Friends? Quiz

– What is Your Friendship Style? and Are your Friendship Styles compatible? Quiz

– 20 of the Most Inspiring Friends and Friendship Quotes and

– 20 lighthearted Questions you can ask to get to know a new Friend

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

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

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.

Latest Posts

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.

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