When Life Shifts, You’re Left Holding the Weight!

 

It’s been a just over a year since I married my soulmate. That day was nothing short of magical. A dream. It was a kind of joy that seeps into your bones and makes you believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that love really is true.

But here’s the part people don’t often talk about; even when you find that deep, soul-anchoring love with your best friend… life around you doesn’t stop. The world keeps turning. Change keeps arriving, and often without warning. And when joy coexist right alongside grief, disappointment, self-doubt and exhaustion, life can become challenging.

In the months that followed our wedding, life slowly began to shift in unexpected ways. People I thought would always be there; friends I trusted, community I once leant on, started to show their true colours. Behaviours I used to make excuses for, due to always seeing the best in people, now felt impossible to ignore. It’s become harder to fake smiles or accept energy that doesn’t come from a place of integrity. I’m just not a fake person and I have no time for BS.

My priority has been to support my wife. Watching someone you love, really struggle with family trauma and become very vulnerable, almost losing herself within her own heartbreak has been so hard. I created a safe space. Granted, I am a fixer. So is she. I struggled because I felt like I fucked up, I couldn’t fix things for her. But I didn’t respect the impact my frustrations had. All the while, going through a few emotional challenges myself which I hadn’t given myself room to feel because my challenge could wait.  

The Weight No One Sees;

Juggling the running of a part-time business while working in the NHS has started to take its toll — Granted it was my decision, and I am very proud of what I have achieved this far. However, it is something that stretches me thin at times. If you know anything about the state of things in healthcare right now, you’ll know how heavy that sentence really is. It’s changed. I look back to my first every role post-graduation, when the value was centred around the patient. It’s lost its focus; people are just numbers. With redundancies looming, it feels like the ground beneath me is shaking. Yet, I know this is an opportunity to grow what I have already established. It’s hard to put into words but that security I have known for over 15 years is going to disappear and although voluntarily I am making the choice to accept it, that is still scary.

Emotionally, I feel more isolated than ever. Yet, I am surrounded by so much love. It’s a strange kind of loneliness; the kind where people are still around, but your emotional experience feels impossible to explain. I’m normally very comfortable in my own head but more recently it has been easier to “Get on with it” rather than share thoughts and feelings. I guess that takes me back to being a protector and fixer; with everyone going through so much, I don’t want to burden people with my mess, especially when I struggling to articulate it.   

I’ve been quieter; not because I don’t care or don’t want to talk, but because I genuinely don’t know how to put into words what’s been happening inside my head. I’ve felt stressed to the point of detachment. Fearful of failing in business because there is an expectation that it must be perfect. In life generally, I feel like I’m frantically paddling to get everything covered and in love, well that’s the one thing I don’t need to question. But I am constantly panicking about letting my wife and our little family down. My rational mind tells me I’m doing my best, but worst of all. I’ve started to believe the old stories again.

13-year-old Hannah is back. She feels like she isn’t good enough to succeed, isn’t doing enough to make a success of herself and isn’t loveable unless she is achieving high level things. I am shocked that I am feeling it. But healing isn’t linear. We all get triggered. To you, those thoughts probably sound petty and stupid, but to me they are cruel and way too familiar! They settle in quickly like super glue, like they’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to sabotage.  And yes - I have done a lot of work on myself, and I have the tools and yes, I am a professional who knows how to support others through very similar challenges BUT here is something I don’t admit often: I’m my own toughest client.

I hold space for others, 100’s in fact, speaking about the importance of boundaries, preventing burnout, healing from trauma and moving into a growth mindset — but when it’s me? It’s like trying to untangle a knot with your hands tied behind your back. Being “The Professional” doesn’t mean I’m immune. I am human. In fact, sometimes it makes it even harder to admit when I’m not okay, because no matter what people think, there is and always will be, an expectation that I will listen to my own an advice and bounce back. It’s not that simple.

The Mind Games of the Menopause;

Alongside all of that, let’s just throw in Perimenopause for good measure. My body is changing. I started HRT in January to manage some symptoms of menopause that I had recognised were having an impact; Getting angry and not recognising why, becoming very tearful, exhaustion to the point of falling asleep at 3pm and brain fog that stopped me from remembering words Oh… and I kept finding my phone in the fridge. It’s been a journey. It’s shaken my confidence in ways I really wasn’t prepared for. Not wanting to socialise, being happier at home and if I am being slightly brutal in my honesty, it’s made me question “Who am I?”

No one talks enough about the mental toll of menopause. It’s not just hot flushes and mood swings — it’s a profound shift in how you see yourself. How you feel about yourself. How you feel about others and it’s as real as, waking up one day and suddenly doubting your abilities. I have cried so many tears about; How much I hate how I look, over the overwhelm from making a simple decision, and because of how worthless I have felt at times. It has taken me back to a place where I was in my late teens, which is somewhere I promised myself I would never go again. Negative self-talk creeps in and hijacks your brain, telling you things you know aren't true… but regardless, we feel them. Welcome to the next level of Jumaji.

Imagine trying to find who you are, when you haven’t gone anywhere. Imagine feeling so happy in life and being in a good place; whilst your mind battles with your body, questions your purpose, and challenges if any of your successes are real. Everything is in a funk.

There has been a strong sense of learning over this past year around many things, but most prominent is my lack of patience for surface-level niceties. I no longer have space or energy for people who don’t operate from a place of truth, care, and kindness. I can’t play the game — you know the one, where we’re all pretending to like each other and carry on like everything is okay. The phrase “fake it till we make it” or “Wear a mask so we don’t make anyone uncomfortable” is utter crap. The only thing that does is damage your own integrity. And it makes me feel unauthentic. I would have much more respect for people if they had an adult conversation, agreeing to just be polite.

Unfortunately, there have been times when I have been showing up in spaces, offering more empathy and grace than I’ve given myself. And I’m tired; tired of being strong, tired of holding space for bad energy and tired of pretending that as a professional I'm not crumbling in places.

The Quiet Cracks;

It’s ironic, isn’t it? I spend so much time helping others navigate their emotional landscapes, yet I often feel lost in my own. Sometimes the hardest work is turning the mirror back on yourself. Even with all this, the fear, the sadness, the grief, the self-doubt; I still believe there’s light coming. I’m learning that sometimes the light doesn’t come in the form of sudden joy or big breakthroughs. It shows up quietly; in a deep breath that feels grounding, in a kind message from someone who gets it or in the simple act of resting - self-care without guilt.

Although it’s uncomfortable, I’m learning to sit with the discomfort without letting it define me. To grieve and still grow. To be lost and still feel worthy. To honour the part of me that’s exhausted without questioning my strength. If you’re reading this and something inside you is saying “Me too” - We are still becoming, even if we feel messy and unrecognisable now, especially then.

To be honest, its constant learning. But I know I’m done faking it. I’m done making myself and my feelings smaller just for comfort. I’m done with not seeing how this cloud is impacting. On the flip side, I’m done believing old stories about who I’m not. I need to work out why they have been triggered and heal around that.  The most courageous thing I can do right now is tell the truth about how I’m feeling, no matter how much it hurts to not feel strong, no matter how much I am carrying. No one needs to understand or offer a resolution, but they do need to have some compassion and respect for this moment.

By saying it out loud is a form of acknowledgement. Its brace. It offers acceptance for the here and now. And maybe the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to stop performing and start healing, take some time out to focus on what we need today, tomorrow and next week — on our terms and at our pace.

I am exhausted. I am in transition. And in the middle of it all, I am still worthy!

 The Beautiful Mind Coach