It wasn’t a huge leap or single moment for me either Pia. It was sitting in the discomfort of knowing that there was something for me to do, but no clarity around what. It took me two years to find my thing. I am in the process of building Unfinished Business - a community for women over fifty building something of their own. Like you, I know they have what they need when it comes to skills and experience but what they often don’t have is the people around them to support and encourage them.
Your second act programme sounds amazing. It’s so nice to be in this space with women like you.
Your phrase "sitting in the discomfort of knowing there was something for me to do, but no clarity around what" describes that in-between stage perfectly.
I think more women experience that period than we talk about. The work often starts long before the business, programme, or community becomes visible.
And I completely agree about the importance of having the right people around you. Skills and experience matter, but so does being surrounded by people who understand what you're trying to build.
And yes, I needed to do the work on me before I could get clear on what I wanted to create for others. And like you, it was the thing that I couldn’t find out there for myself.
This really stayed with me. You put language to something that is usually felt but not said, and you do it with a kind of honesty that makes the whole piece land more deeply. I especially appreciated how you held both the practical and emotional side of it, because that’s usually where the truth lives.
"Usually felt but not said" might be one of the nicest compliments a writer can receive.
The practical side of building something for yourself is challenging enough, but I think you're right, the emotional side is where a lot of the real work happens.
I hit publish on my first post seven weeks ago. My hands were shaking. I still don't know if I have what it takes. Some days it feels like publishing into a void. But I am learning more about myself in the process than I expected, and I'm starting to think that might be the point — at least for now. The thing that frightens you because it is yours. That line is going on a sticky note.
Seven weeks is still so early, and honestly, I think the fact that your hands were shaking is probably a good sign.
Mine still shake sometimes.
I don't think any of us ever get complete certainty before we hit publish. We just learn to trust ourselves enough to do it anyway.
And I completely relate to what you said about learning more about yourself than expected. Building something of your own has a way of holding up a mirror. Some days that feels uncomfortable, and some days it feels like a gift.
Keep going. Seven weeks from now, you'll know things you couldn't possibly know today.
And thank you for giving that line a home on a sticky note 😊
It wasn’t a huge leap or single moment for me either Pia. It was sitting in the discomfort of knowing that there was something for me to do, but no clarity around what. It took me two years to find my thing. I am in the process of building Unfinished Business - a community for women over fifty building something of their own. Like you, I know they have what they need when it comes to skills and experience but what they often don’t have is the people around them to support and encourage them.
Your second act programme sounds amazing. It’s so nice to be in this space with women like you.
Thank you so much, Leanne.
Your phrase "sitting in the discomfort of knowing there was something for me to do, but no clarity around what" describes that in-between stage perfectly.
I think more women experience that period than we talk about. The work often starts long before the business, programme, or community becomes visible.
And I completely agree about the importance of having the right people around you. Skills and experience matter, but so does being surrounded by people who understand what you're trying to build.
I'm very glad our paths crossed here.
Thanks Pia, I’m glad we connected too.
And yes, I needed to do the work on me before I could get clear on what I wanted to create for others. And like you, it was the thing that I couldn’t find out there for myself.
Happy building.
This really stayed with me. You put language to something that is usually felt but not said, and you do it with a kind of honesty that makes the whole piece land more deeply. I especially appreciated how you held both the practical and emotional side of it, because that’s usually where the truth lives.
Thank you, Valerie.
"Usually felt but not said" might be one of the nicest compliments a writer can receive.
The practical side of building something for yourself is challenging enough, but I think you're right, the emotional side is where a lot of the real work happens.
Thank you for reading it so thoughtfully.
Terrifying and clarifying at the same time — yes.
I hit publish on my first post seven weeks ago. My hands were shaking. I still don't know if I have what it takes. Some days it feels like publishing into a void. But I am learning more about myself in the process than I expected, and I'm starting to think that might be the point — at least for now. The thing that frightens you because it is yours. That line is going on a sticky note.
Thank you for this.
Seven weeks is still so early, and honestly, I think the fact that your hands were shaking is probably a good sign.
Mine still shake sometimes.
I don't think any of us ever get complete certainty before we hit publish. We just learn to trust ourselves enough to do it anyway.
And I completely relate to what you said about learning more about yourself than expected. Building something of your own has a way of holding up a mirror. Some days that feels uncomfortable, and some days it feels like a gift.
Keep going. Seven weeks from now, you'll know things you couldn't possibly know today.
And thank you for giving that line a home on a sticky note 😊
Some days the mirror is the whole point. Some days I'm not ready for it. Both are happening at seven weeks.
I suspect that's part of the deal.
The courage to keep looking on the days we're ready.
And the grace to look away on the days we're not.