Recently a new client told me something that totally triggered me.
They had approached their boss about doing our coaching sessions during the workday. The response was quick: first they were told that they didn’t need coaching, and second that the company couldn’t make space for it during work hours.
The more I thought about it, the crosser I got.
Part of me recognises that this is exactly the kind of mindset I don’t want to be working with anyway. But another part of me wants to punch them in the nose and show them what can be done. I realise that’s not exactly healthy motivation, but it’s how I feel.
A part of me wants to rant about the narrow-mindedness of it all. The unwillingness to support someone who is actively trying to grow and develop themselves. Someone who is willing to invest their own time and money to do the work.
Honestly, it breaks my brain.
But the more I sat with it, the more I realised something else.
This story isn’t really about the boss or the company.
It’s about the people who choose themselves anyway.
Over the years I’ve had the privilege of working with people who decided that something in their lives needed to change. Not celebrities. Not big-shot executives. Just normal, everyday people who reached a point where they realised they couldn’t keep doing things the same way.
People who felt the discomfort and didn’t run from it.
People who were willing to sit with that discomfort long enough to start asking questions. To look honestly at where they were. To admit that something needed to shift.
And then they started doing the work.
Some were able to do their sessions during work hours.
Others sat in their cars in the parking lot before work.
Some showed up after long days.
Others squeezed the work into lunch breaks or weekends.
Not because it was convenient.
But because they had decided that their own growth mattered.
They kept showing up even when the path wasn’t clear.
And slowly, things began to shift.
New jobs.
Mindsets shifted.
Relationships improved.
Confidence grew.
Not overnight.
Just one decision at a time.
One uncomfortable conversation at a time.
One small shift in thinking at a time.
These people are my heroes.
Choosing yourself in a world that uses most things as disposable is, to me, the highest act of self-love and self-respect.
Choosing growth when it would be simpler to stay comfortable takes courage.
And choosing to keep going, even when progress feels slow or uncertain, takes real commitment.
So this story isn’t really about the boss who said no.
It’s about the people who say yes to themselves anyway.
The ones who keep learning.
Who keep growing.
Who keep showing up for their own lives.
Those are the people who quietly change the world.
Starting with themselves.
A few weeks ago, I watched an interview where they were talking about internet privacy.
The expert said something that stopped me mid-thought:
“People think about internet privacy as a switch. It’s not. It’s a dial. You get to choose how much or how little you expose.”
It hit me right between the eyes.
Because the more I sat with it, the more I realised this wasn’t just true about internet privacy. It’s true about so many areas of our lives.
We often treat things like switches. All or nothing. On or off. Fully in or completely out. But life rarely works that way. Most of the time, it’s not a switch at all… it’s a dial.
And a dial means choice. It means nuance. It means I get to decide how much intensity, energy, time, or emotional exposure I allow.
I did a lot of volunteer work. It’s not life-and-death work like saving people or wildlife, but it is work meant to help people build better lives. Work with good intentions. Work that matters.
Over time, though, I let it take over completely.
It cost me my mental health.
It cost me my physical health.
And if I’m really honest, it cost me a business.
Not because the work itself was wrong, but because I didn’t understand the cost of not seeing clearly. I hadn’t created boundaries. I was looking for validation and affirmation from people who had different agendas and their own things going on. And I kept telling myself it was for the greater good.
Until it wasn’t.
Once I could see what was really happening what, in fact, I was allowing to happen, I started disengaging. Emotionally at first. Then practically. I worked hard at sticking to my no’s and at reshaping my boundaries. I had to shift my mindset and my expectations of myself.
That wasn’t easy.
Walking away didn’t feel like me. But staying half-in, half-out this not fully committed, yet constantly drained, that wasn’t good for me either. That limbo space was doing real damage.
As I struggled with this, I started paying closer attention to the people around me. And what I noticed was that I wasn’t alone. So many of us are wrestling with balance.
Balancing personal and professional lives.
Balancing unpaid work with the work that actually pays the bills.
Balancing conscience to what seems to be the right thing with family time.
Balancing personal growth and awareness in a world that just keeps asking for more.
So I started asking myself a different set of questions.
If I say yes to this, what am I saying no to? And if I say no to this, what am I saying yes to?
Looking back now, I can see that I wasn’t just pulling away, I was testing boundaries. I was creating principles. I was slowly figuring out my own rules of engagement. I was learning what level of intensity was healthy, what needed adjusting, and what I needed to step away from completely.
I was learning how to use the dial.
I don’t always get it right. I’m still learning what works and what doesn’t. Life keeps putting me into new, interesting, and sometimes challenging situations. That’s part of the deal.
But now I can see the guardrails more clearly. And I know they’re there to protect me, not to limit me.
So I try.
I mess up.
I learn.
I adjust.
And through all of it, I remind myself that I’m in charge of my own dial of how much I give, where I show up fully, and where I consciously pull back.
It’s still a work in progress. But this small shift, from switch to dial, has made it easier to breathe. The work now is simply to keep adjusting. Gently, intentionally, and in ways that are simple enough to repeat when life inevitably throws the next curveball.
I’d like to invite you to sit with this. To explore what in your life is a dial. And to be honest about whether there is something that is actually a switch. In truth, some things do need a clear boundary.
Be aware. Take your time. Test what works better for you.
It’s a journey. And you are in charge of the dial.
On a recent short break, my sister and I went exploring in an area I hadn’t visited in years.
Back then, we were in a rugged Land Rover, packed for anything, led by my beloved husband, a seasoned guide. This time, it was just my little car, no real plan, no guide, and only a picnic lunch and a sense of fun to see us through.
There was no cellphone signal, no GPS, no Google Maps. The reception desk had given us a simple hand-drawn map, and between that, my half-faded memories, and our adventurous spirit, we set off.
The first stretch of road was tarred and smooth, slowly drawing us into the forest. Butterflies drifted past, a bushbuck and its little one stepped lightly through the trees, and the birds filled the quiet with sound. It was peaceful and grounding, the kind of road that reminds you to breathe.
But as the mountain rose, the road began to change.
The surface grew rougher. First a few cracks, then loose stones, and soon enough, we were weaving through the remnants of what must once have been a rockslide, boulders scattered across half the road.
We passed a faded sign: Orrie Baragwanath Pass — 930m.
As we climbed higher, the road demanded more of the car. I realised my little engine was fighting to stay in second gear. Not quite enough power to keep momentum, but too much strain to stay slow. I had to decide: go faster and risk missing the beauty around us, or slow down and drop to first.
The forest eventually thinned, and the world opened up. The next sign read 1370m. The air was sharp, the sky wide, and the road now just two dusty tracks cutting through the grass.
We bumped along through what looked like old orchards, a few weathered avocado trees still standing, though long past fruiting. The landscape stretched out in rolling green waves, dotted with cows and, to our surprise, a few zebra grazing among them. It was wild, quiet, and strangely timeless.
Not a single person in sight, just the hum of the engine, the tyres on gravel, and the wind around us.
As we travelled deeper, the road grew worse. Some sections forced us down to 20 km/h, the car jolting so hard we were bouncing in our seats. And all the while, a quiet thought crept in: What if we break down here? No signal, no traffic, no way to call for help.
Then, just as the trees closed in again and the road narrowed to almost nothing, a government bakkie appeared from the opposite direction. Relief, panic, and confusion hit all at once. There was no space to pass and no way to reverse. I could feel my pulse in my throat.
The men on the back jumped down. They spotted things I couldn’t, a hidden tree stump blocking my way. One man pulled it aside while others gestured, helping me edge into a small clearing. The other driver eased forward, and somehow, with a mix of patience and teamwork, we both got through safely.
When they waved goodbye and disappeared down the mountain, I sat still for a moment. Breathing. Shaking. Grateful.
We decided to keep going until we found a safe place to turn around. When the forest thinned again and the road opened into a small grassy area, we stopped to take in the view. Mountains stretched for miles, the sky endless and blue. It was spectacular.
Just ahead, a small track veered off the main road. On instinct, we followed it and soon found ourselves on a hilltop overlooking a deep valley. From there, we could see where the main road continued, and it was clear we’d turned off just in time.
The drive back felt easier. The same bumps, the same rocks, but knowing what to expect made the road feel less intimidating.
Reflections from the Road
That short trip reminded me so much of our journeys as entrepreneurs — and as humans.
You don’t always know where you’re going, and there isn’t always a map. Sometimes the road crumbles beneath you, and you have to decide whether to push harder or slow down. Other times, it’s not about powering through at all — it’s about shifting gears, finding a new rhythm, and accepting that progress might look slower for a while.
There are moments when you can’t turn back, even when you want to. Moments when fear sits heavy in your chest, but you keep going anyway. And sometimes, you simply have to trust your instincts — that quiet inner voice that tells you when to stay the course and when to turn off.
Along the way, you’ll need others — people who can spot what you can’t see, help move obstacles out of your path, or guide you from a different angle.
And then, there are moments of clarity — when the view opens up and you finally understand why the road had to be so rough.
That’s the thing about these journeys, in business and in life: you don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need the courage to keep moving, the humility to ask for help, and the curiosity to see what’s around the next bend.
Because sometimes, the most beautiful views come after the toughest climbs. And in the end, no one else can drive the road for you. You choose the pace, the gear, and whether to keep going — even when the map runs out.
If you’re standing at a crossroads — unsure whether to push forward, slow down, or turn off altogether — maybe it’s time to pause, breathe, and get some perspective. That’s what coaching offers: a space to see the road more clearly and find your rhythm again.
In my OP-ED for Tourism Update, Bridging the Tourism Skills Gap, I wrote about building stronger, human-centred businesses to prepare people for the future of tourism. But there’s a piece of the puzzle we often overlook: even the best skills and training can fall short if we, and our teams, are running on empty. Bridging the skills gap isn’t just about knowledge — it’s also about learning and applying the skills that protect your energy, clarity, and resilience. When individuals develop these skills, teams perform better, guest experiences improve, and businesses become truly future-ready.
That’s where co-responsibility takes on a new dimension. It’s not only about equipping our teams with technical tools; it’s also about developing the skills and capacity to use them effectively. And this is where so many people get stuck. They know change is needed, but they don’t know where to start.
When I read the words,
“What if this isn’t a storm? What if this is the climate?”
they resonated deeply. I began noticing it everywhere — in my own habits, in client conversations, and across the patterns I see in our industry. Even five years after COVID, many of us are still trying to find balance — and life was rarely simple even before the pandemic.
I can relate. Before the pandemic, I was mostly just surviving — getting through the day, doing what was in front of me, rarely pausing to think about what I actually wanted. Today, I see the same all around me: people struggling to keep up in a world where change is rapid and relentless, and the next challenge hits before you’ve even caught your breath.
This isn’t a sudden storm that will pass; it’s a slow burn. Constant pressures — work, guests, deadlines, and relentless change — leave teams and leaders running on empty, limiting our ability to thrive. The data reflects it: only 31% of employees are engaged, and in hospitality, 76% of workers have experienced mental health challenges during their careers — nearly half in the past two years. Technical skills and knowing how to do your job isn’t enough. It’s also about the personal skills and capacity that allow us — and our teams — to protect our energy, stay clear-headed, and apply our knowledge effectively.
Research highlights patterns we often see in the workplace:
presenteeism, when people are physically at work but emotionally drained, and
resenteeism, when they deliver tasks while feeling frustrated or resentful.
These patterns show exactly why technical skills alone aren’t enough — without the personal skills and capacity to manage energy and stress, even the most capable team can’t thrive.
This might look like an employee answering emails while on sick leave, or a working through dinner every night because “that’s just the job.” Often, it’s not only external pressure — it’s self-imposed. We compare ourselves to others, fear our loyalty might be questioned, and push past exhaustion without noticing.
Sound familiar?
And this isn’t just about individuals. Leaders set the tone, often without realising it. If managers are answering emails at midnight or never taking a break, it quietly tells the team: this is what’s expected. Even if you say “take care of yourself,” people will mirror what you do, not what you say.
When the lines blur and the storm never ends, it becomes the climate. If you don’t pace yourself, your body will do it for you — rarely at a convenient time.
Coping isn’t the goal — developing skills and systems that allow for recovery, clarity, and sustainable performance is.
Start Small: Skills to Protect Your Energy
So, where do you start? You have responsibilities, deadlines, guests checking in and out — it can feel impossible to prioritise yourself. Unfortunately, there’s no hack, no magic pill.
You start small. You learn to swim by swimming.
Choose one small, achievable boundary that protects your energy:
A little extra space in your morning routine
Ten minutes of quiet after work
A walk with your family
Playing with the dog
These are skills in themselves, and like any other, they can be practiced and strengthened. Notice what supports you and what drains you, and adjust until it becomes effortless. Start small, then build. Skipping dinner or working late might seem harmless, but the long-term cost — to your body, mind, and relationships — is too high.
Most importantly, don’t wait for someone else to come and save you. Taking responsibility for your own growth and well-being isn’t selfish — it’s the foundation that allows you to support your family, your team, your company, and your community.
And as a leader, how do you start that shift? By modelling balance. By showing your team that rest is part of sustainable performance, not a weakness. When you leave on time, take a proper lunch, or actually switch off on sick leave, you give permission for others to do the same — without guilt. That’s co-responsibility in action.
It starts small, but over time, these choices ripple out — shaping not just your own energy, but the culture of your team and business.
Whether you’re managing staff, welcoming guests, or shaping your own career path, these small shifts — protecting your energy, setting boundaries, practising recovery — are how we close the gap between surviving and thriving.
Bridging the skills gap is only half the work — bridging the gap between pressure and well-being is the other. Both are essential if we want our teams, our industry, and ourselves to not just survive, but thrive.
So, what’s one small skill or shift you’re going to practice this week?
These shifts aren’t always easy to make on your own. If this resonates and you would like some support finding your pace, setting boundaries or rethinking how you show up for yourself you can book a freeDiscovery session here.
Not in a big, dramatic, stuff is blowing up kind of way. Just heavy. I felt stuck, like I was treading water and getting nowhere and things that I’m trying isn’t working. And to be honest, I felt a bit like a failure. I was fragile, tired, and weighed down by a subtle, lingering sadness that I couldn’t quite explain. I felt alone, a bit abandoned, and weirdly guilty for even feeling that way.
Because when I zoomed out? Life is actually okay. Not incredible, on-fire exciting, but objectively… okay. My health has been improving. I was connecting with people, even though it wasn’t yet turning into new business. But that just made me feel worse. Like a spoilt brat with no real reason to complain.
And in the middle of that messy headspace, I didn’t feel like I could reach out. Not to the people who usually help me through these dips. I felt too fragile, too exposed, and honestly… a little embarrassed. There was one situation in particular that had me off-balance, and in that state, even minor things felt like a sucker punch.
Then, without thinking too much about it, I did something simple: I cleaned my kitchen.
I popped in my AirPods, put on music, and just started. No overthinking. No planning. Just… action. A simple task. Something I could control. It wasn’t really a mess but didn’t realise how much it was bothering me until it was gone. Halfway through, I noticed I was breathing easier. I felt lighter. Still raw, but clearer.
That moment of physical movement, of reclaiming my space, helped me recalibrate.
And it wasn’t just the cleaning. It was the unplugging. The act of removing myself from all the noise. Ignoring my phone. Letting myself disconnect from everything and everyone.
Afterwards, I made something to eat, then lay on the couch and watched feel-good, slightly ridiculous series that made me laugh through the serious and the sad. Later, I cooked a healthy chicken soup; one that I hoped wouldn’t aggravate my esophagus or trigger reflux, which had been flaring up again.
That evening, I finally checked my phone. There was a message from a potential new client.
Strong Habits kicked in, I wanted to help. But the gift of that day was that it gave me enough space to pause before saying yes. I knew I didn’t have it in me to show up fully in that moment. And if I can’t show up 100%, I won’t pretend I can. We scheduled the meeting for the next day. I returned to my couch, my soup, and my soft blanket.
Sleep still didn’t come easily. That damn reflux reminded me that my body feels stress even when I pretend not to. Especially the pressure I put on myself. The pressure to always be okay. To always push forward. To always show up strong.
Truth is, the things stacking up against me over those two weeks weren’t massive on their own. But together? They weighed heavy. And when I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see a way through.
What I’m seeing now, from the other side, is that I wasn’t alone. Maybe not in the way I’m used to but there were still people who showed up. Not the usual ones, but exactly who I needed in the moment.
And the biggest shift happened when I made space. When I stopped trying to force momentum. When I took control of what I could (like my kitchen). When I allowed myself to pause, to breathe, to not be okay for a while.
I’m learning (again) that my process is messy. It’s not linear. It’s uncomfortable. Sometimes it makes me feel fragile, exposed, and scattered. But it’s mine. This time it took a bit longer but it’s how I move through things.
Sometimes I get up and keep going with just a scratch. Sometimes I need to stop, cry, clean, eat soup, and rest. Sometimes I need to ask for help. Sometimes I don’t.
But always — always — it has to be me that takes the action.
I’m reminded of something James Clear calls the “Valley of Disappointment.” It’s that place where you feel like the work you’ve put in isn’t paying off. Like the effort doesn’t matter. But it does. The work, the effort, is stacking. It’s building beneath the surface. It’s not wasted.
I just need to hold that tricky balance between patience and persistence. Between not giving up on the dream and accepting that some things take time. That growth is a process, not a performance.
The Conscious Leadership Group has a tool that helps in times like this:
Awareness
Acceptance
Asking your self: Are you willing to Shift?
And if you are willing to shift: What action do you need to shift?
As I sat with all this, a leaf drifted down and landed on my notebook. I brushed it off without thinking. Then I paused.
Where did it come from? Where is it going? Why here, now?
It grounded me in the moment. This moment. No phone, no pressure, no need to figure it all out.
That small act reminded me that sometimes, it’s not about solving everything. It’s about being present. Accepting where you are. Letting yourself be held by the stillness, the silence, and the small, quiet truths.
If you’re in a slump, maybe what you need isn’t to push harder. Maybe you just need to clean your kitchen.
May whatever comes next bring you peace, insight, and clarity. May you find your truth, and follow it with grace.
So if you’re feeling stuck or fragile right now, ask yourself: What’s one small, grounded thing you can do today? Start there.It’s enough.
And if you’re feeling stuck — professionally, creatively, or just in life — and you want to talk it through with someone who gets it, I’ve got space for that.👉Book a Free Discovery session here— let’s find some clarity, together.
Sometimes, life throws you a curveball that makes you stop and think. That happened to me recently, and it got me reflecting.
Someone told me a few days ago that we weren’t serving them the way they expected. Just one person. It might not reflect how everyone feels, but it hit me hard because it brought up a pattern I’ve seen before, where people expect you to hand them the answers, the growth, the motivation.
It’s the same when I ask a client, “What would you like to work on today?” and they respond with: “You’re the coach, you tell me.” Seriously? It’s your journey. I’m here to guide, challenge, and support you — but I can’t do the work for you.
I have no problem meeting people where they are. I’m happy to start from the basics if needed, I’ll support you as you find your feet, and I’ll cheer you on every step of the way. But the spark — that drive — it has to come from you. I can’t light that fire for you.
And honestly, I’m done.
I’m done with people sitting back, waiting for someone else to feed them, support them, or save them. It’s draining. It’s exhausting. I’m done dragging people along who aren’t willing to step up. My energy is finite, and I’m choosing to focus it on those who are ready to take responsibility for their growth. Those who understand that success is built from within.
If you’re not investing in yourself, if you’re not working on your mindset, and if you’re not growing — that’s on you. Nobody else.
It’s not about having money or opportunities. It’s about mindset. It’s about moving out of victimhood and stepping into discomfort — facing the unknown, the uncertain, and the uncomfortable. It’s about acknowledging where you are, accepting that change is needed, and taking action — even if you’re unsure how it will all unfold.
Someone recently put it like this: it’s like paying for a gym membership and then complaining you’re not getting fit. Just paying the fee doesn’t do the work for you. You actually have to show up, do the work, and push through the discomfort. Personal growth works the same way. Don’t expect your employer, your coach, or anyone else to take full responsibility for your development. If you’re given an opportunity, great — grab it and run with it. But at the end of the day, YOU have to put in the effort.
And yes, asking for help is important. It takes courage and honesty to reach out when you need it. But expecting someone to swoop in and fix everything for you? That’s not how life works.
You’ve got to:
Get off the couch
Take the first step
Put in the effort
Keep going, even when it gets tough
Nobody else can do it for you. No one else is responsible for your growth or your future.
If you’re not willing to take responsibility for your own journey, you’ll get left behind. The world is changing faster than ever, and if you don’t adapt — if you don’t develop the skills and mindset for the future — you’re in for a harsh reality check.
Monika Iuel nailed it when she said,
“We need to be solving for the future rather than recovering from the past.”
She was talking about the future of tourism in South Africa, but that message applies to all of us. Stop focusing on what could have been, what should have been, or what might have been. Start preparing for what’s next.
Step up.
Only you can make that choice. Only you can take the action — even if it’s a small, shaky step at first.
So, get up. Get moving. Do it for you — because no one else will.
Stop waiting for someone to hand you the answers. Stop blaming your circumstances, your boss, your past, or anyone else. Own your growth. Take responsibility. Commit to doing the work, even when it’s tough, even when you don’t feel like it.
If you want more, do more. Simple as that. You can either make excuses or make progress.
The choice is yours.
Ready to take ownership of your future? Let’s talk. Book your free discovery call with me today and let’s figure out how to get you moving forward—no more excuses.
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