The Overplayed Tracks

There’s so much joy and purpose as I commit to living life—the only one I have—to the full. Maybe 25 summers left if I’m lucky. I want them to count. But there are also a few tracks that keep looping—ones that are harder to sit with. They’re part of the full playlist too. And I want to be honest about them.

I really practise dispelling negative thoughts, but we all worry a little, right? And often, we overplay these worries in our minds, turning them up louder than they need to be.

One of the toughest things at the moment is my relationship with my mother. Her mind, body and soul are all changing, and our connection is becoming more and more strained. She doesn’t seem to want my help or value my company, and every day that reality eats away at me. It’s painful. Quietly relentless. And hard to talk about. I support her practically in every way I can, but it’s heart-rending to want to be loved in another of life’s difficult phases.

Then there are friendships that feel distant. The ones that aren’t physically present are especially hard to maintain. Some feel challenging, and I know I need to work better, smarter, and harder with them. Just being able to listen and support without relying on positivity or regular connection is something I’m still learning. It’s an area I want to grow in—quiet supportiveness without the rhythm of regular check-ins.

And there’s something else I’m working through: living on the ocean.
It’s beautiful, but it forces me to confront some long-held demons. The vastness of that water can bring up real fear. This trip, I’ve entered the sea a couple of times—tentatively, slowly—but felt so good afterwards. And this weekend, I got on our boat and ventured out into the ocean. Nerve-racking at first, but afterwards? I felt like Buffy—slaying demons and dragons in one go.

Not all of my purpose-led and giving ventures are landing either. I’ve said yes to too many activities—maybe too many full stop. I wonder if I’m collaborating too widely, juggling too many giving-balls, and dropping a few important ones along the way.

It made me realise I probably need to focus on just two key areas in my UK work:
→ Dereham Meeting Point, and
→ The five scholarships for girls at Norwich High School.

And likewise, two key areas in Thailand where my heart and effort belong:
→ Our Academy for Youth with Potential, and
→ Saving the leatherback turtles.

None of this is dramatic—it’s just life. Real and sometimes heavy. But sharing it here feels important. Sometimes when I name these things, it becomes easier to punch away the negative thoughts before they take over.

I hope you don’t mind me being honest. And maybe—just maybe—it’s helpful to someone else too. Because even when life looks vibrant on the outside, we’re all carrying our own overplayed tracks underneath.

Finding Home on Two Wheels and Four

When I first agreed to tandem bike the Palmetto Trail across the Carolinas with Graham, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It wasn’t just the physical challenge of cycling for miles each day—though that certainly kept me up at night. No, it was the idea of living in an RV for weeks that really filled me with dread.

We go on a long tandem ride every year, but the Palmetto Trail was a different kind of challenge. I worried endlessly: Would I feel trapped? Would the small space drive me mad? A kitchen and a loo practically on top of each other sounded far too close for comfort, and frankly, a bit too much like camping (which, let’s be honest, is not my thing).

But sometimes, the things we fear most are the ones that teach us the most.

Learning to Let Go

The first few days were an adjustment, to say the least. There were moments of doubt, irritation, and wondering what on earth I’d signed up for. But as the miles ticked by on the tandem and we parked up the RV in new spots each evening, something started to shift.

I began to appreciate the simplicity of it all. Life on the road strips away so many distractions. You’re left with the basics: a place to sleep, a meal to share, and the open road ahead. It wasn’t about having every comfort at my fingertips; it was about learning to find comfort in togetherness and adaptability.

Home Is Wherever You Park It

What surprised me most was how quickly the RV started to feel like home. Graham and I found a rhythm—both on the bike and in our little rolling house. There was something liberating about knowing that home could be anywhere we chose to stop for the night, whether it was a quiet forest trailhead or a bustling campsite.

Even the small things, like cooking a meal together or mapping out the next day’s route, felt grounding. The worries I’d carried about feeling confined faded into the background, replaced by a sense of freedom I hadn’t expected.

The Joy of Togetherness

Riding a tandem bike is an exercise in trust and teamwork. You’re quite literally in sync with someone else—pedaling together, steering together, stopping together. It’s not always easy, but it’s deeply rewarding.

Sharing this adventure with Graham reminded me how powerful togetherness can be. Whether it was tackling a steep hill on the bike or figuring out how to make the most of our small living space, we leaned on each other and laughed more than I thought possible.

A Lesson in Humility and Growth

This journey humbled me in the best way. It reminded me that the things we dread or fear are often the ones that push us to grow. It taught me that sometimes, we just need to get out of our own heads and give ourselves a chance to adapt, to trust, and to embrace the unexpected.

So, what’s next? Who knows. But after this, I’m feeling a little braver about taking on challenges that once felt too big or too uncomfortable. And maybe that’s the greatest takeaway of all.

What’s a challenge you’ve faced recently that turned out to be unexpectedly rewarding? I’d love to hear your stories—drop me a comment or send me a message!

The Importance of Being Humbled in Your Career

“The modern career is full of devastation,” Tim Denning boldly states in his article, Being Humbled in Your Career Is the Best Thing That Can Happen, Right? He describes a world where technology can replace you overnight, where change is relentless, and where the old dream of lifelong stability in a single company is all but dead. It’s a tough pill to swallow, isn’t it? Especially when you’re the one grappling with the sting of a career setback.

I’m not just writing about this—I’ve lived it. My career has been a kaleidoscope of highs, lows, and unexpected plot twists. One of my proudest achievements turned into my most rapid exit. That’s humbling, to say the least.

The truth I’ve uncovered in those moments? Sometimes, all you can do is get up, breathe, and put one foot in front of the other. Not because you know exactly where you’re going, but because you have to keep moving toward the new direction you sense is right.

Lessons from Being Humbled

Career setbacks don’t just test your resilience; they can shape it in ways you never imagined. Here are some hard-earned lessons I’ve gathered along the way:

Find Mentors Who See You
Surround yourself with extraordinary mentors who believe in you. The ones who’ve seen it all—successes, failures, and the messy in-between. Their wisdom becomes your anchor when the waters get rough.

Work with People You Respect
Life’s too short to work with people you don’t trust or admire. Seek out those with whom you share mutual respect and a positive chemistry. It makes even the hardest days more bearable.

Don’t Be the “Only”
Being the “only one” on a board, whether as the token woman or the transformative voice, can be isolating. Tokenism is a trap—don’t fall into it. Instead, seek spaces where you can thrive with genuine allies.

Learn from Innovators
Growth driven by innovation sounds great in theory, but very few achieve it sustainably. Find those rare individuals who’ve done it and immerse yourself in their brilliance.

Beware the One-Industry Experts
Beware of those who’ve spent their entire career in one industry. Adaptability is a muscle, and it atrophies without practice. Diversity of experience often trumps longevity in one sector.

The Gift of Being Humbled

Tim Denning’s words resonate deeply: “Setbacks destroyed my ego and took me out of my comfort zone. Only from there could I grow.”

Looking back, I can see how the humbling moments in my career weren’t roadblocks—they were stepping stones. Each forced me to reevaluate, adapt, and grow. They made me stronger, wiser, and yes, a little more patient with myself.

Now, I want to hear from you.

What was your biggest career setback? And what did you learn from it?