If you need me, I’m on the bus, looking out the window and laughing

‘You should see a life coach,’ someone said to me.

I had been talking about turning forty: and my lack of focus now that the boys are both at school; and my aimless wandering from one unfinished project to another; and the general blah blah blahs I get when I look at my To Do list, the same list that used to make me feel excited and motivated; and how my mum was 46 when she died and didn’t get to use her long service leave and I’m not going to let that happen to me, but look here I am on the couch doing nothing to make sure that doesn’t happen; and my growing financial dependence on my partner which is, right now, freaking me absolutely out; etcetera etcetera etcetera (I know, being around me is a bundle of laughs right now – but trust me, no one is more bored by me and my woes than I myself am).

I wasn’t really sold on this life coach idea. Thought it might be a bit of wank. But then I did a bit of looking around, and I thought, ‘It can’t hurt’. It’s kind of just career counselling, but with a bit of other stuff thrown in. And geez I pay a tarot card reader, an acupuncurist and hairdresser to fix my life, why wouldn’t I pay life coach?

So, I sent off an enquiry email or two. You know, as they suggested. Gave a brief outline and where I am and what I’d want out of life coaching.

Then I started looking forward to it. This is just what I need, I thought. Bit of a talk about what’s good, what’s realistic, what’s dreams. Yeah. This’ll be great. Bit of life coaching and I’ll be on track. Set to blast into my forties with a sense of purpose. There’s still time to change the world.





0 thoughts on “If you need me, I’m on the bus, looking out the window and laughing”

  1. You would like my dearest friend. She does mediation and change management counselling etc and she has ended up also falling into life coaching type roles because her clients kind of demanded it. And now she kind of enjoys it, but reckons she needs one herself because she’s not so great at walking the talk. (Although she is).

    She could life coach you by email! Which would be the best(!), because her time management skills ain’t so hot. She prefers to sit around drinking cups of tea and reading. (See why we’re friends!?)

  2. Very interesting. Makes a change from hearing about every other person I know TRAINING to BE a life coach.

    Right now, I am very blah blah blah and so I am going to go and sleep on the sofa, which isn’t what a life coach would tell me to do.

    Bugger the life coach. We both need an older sister.

  3. Maybe they think your life isn’t at the stage where you need one?
    Although, it sort of reminds me of the old student counsellor paradox: if they tell you to become anything other than a student counsellor, then their advice isn’t worth following.

  4. Oh jeez, does this all feel close to home.

    I did actually see a life coach once two years ago (for free). And did his words of wisdom get heeded by the likes of me? Not really. And am I paying the price? Yeah, I guess so.

  5. Oh sweetie, I’m suffering from that terrible conundrum when someone you love falls over and is clearly hurt yet you’re struggling not to piss yourself laughing.

    We had a life coaching business set up shop on Magill Road, all rah-rah-rah marketing stuff in our letterboxes and in the paper only to close a few months later.

    Feel free to whinge, drink, cry, sleep, chat to your tarot/acupuncturist/hairdresser and hubby. And who says you have to have things figured out by the time you’re forty? I haven’t and I remember my grandfather saying to me when he retired from being a school principal at sixty five years of age in 1976, “You know, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”

    My advice – keep your life coach money and spend it on something absolutely pointless except for pleasure. Haigh’s should do the trick.

  6. My Mum swears by having a list, and making sure there’s something just for herself on it everyday. Something that isn’t work. It’s not advice that I’m good at following though. I tend to lose the list.

    My organisation is more basic. I do the thing I least want first, then the thing I want most. Except on the days when I’m naughty, then I do it the other way round, and the thing I want least doesn’t happen.

  7. After you’ve turned 40, the significance of it as a turning point recedes greatly. So try not to load it with too much meaning (easier said than done, I know.)
    It’s early days after your big loss so allow yourself to lie on the couch a bit longer. Something’s bound to happen (and you do still have two children to spend a lot of time with…)

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