On Tuesday, I locked my office door with an actual key so my kids couldn't walk in while I was on a call. Not a metaphor. I turned the key, heard the lock click, and then heard my daughter's voice on the other side saying "Mummy? Mummy, are you there?" while I smiled at a screen pretending everything was under control.
That same evening, I was cooking dinner and answering emails at the same time, which means I did both badly. The pasta was overcooked. The email was too short. Nobody got the best version of me. Then the kids went to bed, and I sat back down at my laptop at 9 pm because there was still more to do. There's always more to do.
I run three businesses. I do the strategy, the content, the sales, the client work, the website, the invoicing, the social media, the school runs, the cooking, the bedtime routine, and whatever else needs doing on any given day. I taught myself how to build a website. I taught myself how to set up a Stripe payment page. I taught myself funnels. I'm learning ads. I'm doing all of it alone, mostly after 9 pm, mostly tired.
And I'm writing this not because I've figured it out. I'm writing this because I haven't. And I think someone needs to say that out loud.
THE ONE INSIGHT
The internet is full of people telling you to follow your passion. Start a business. Work from anywhere. Be your own boss. Set your own schedule. And they make it look beautiful, laptops on beaches, coffee shop mornings, "I'll never go back to a 9-to-5."
Nobody shows you the locked doors and the kids knocking. Nobody shows you the Sunday evening doing your own accounts because the business does not justify paying someone else to do them yet. Nobody shows you the loneliness of it, wanting to be social, wanting adult conversation, but not having the time because there's always something that needs building or fixing or selling.
And nobody ever tells you the real meaning of the word they keep using.
"Passion" comes from the Latin word "passio." It means to suffer. It comes from the story of Christ's crucifixion, the Passion of Christ. Following your passion doesn't mean doing what makes you happy. It means doing something you're willing to suffer for.
That changes the whole conversation.
Because when someone says "follow your passion" and what you hear is "do what you love and the money will follow", that's a lie. A comfortable, Instagram-friendly lie. But when you understand that passion actually means "the thing you'll keep doing when it's hard, when it's lonely, when the money isn't there yet, when your kids are knocking on a locked door, and you feel like the worst parent in the world", that's closer to the truth.
And honestly? Knowing that doesn't make it easier. But it makes it make sense. The suffering isn't a sign you're doing it wrong. It's the actual definition of the word.
THE ACTION STEP
I don't have a neat system to offer you this week. I'm not going to pretend I've solved this. But here's what I'm telling myself right now, and maybe it's useful for you too.
1. Stop comparing your Tuesday afternoon to someone's curated Wednesday morning. The people posting laptop-on-a-beach content are either lying, early in the journey, or selling you something. Your locked door and overcooked pasta is the real version. That's not failure. That's what building something actually looks like.
2. Name the suffering you're choosing. Not in a dramatic way. Just honestly. "I'm choosing the financial insecurity because I'm building something that's mine. I'm choosing the exhaustion because I refuse to go back to being invisible in someone else's company. I'm choosing the locked door because what I'm building on the other side of it matters." When you name it, it stops feeling like something happening to you and starts feeling like something you chose. Because you did.
3. Forgive the pasta. Seriously. You cannot do everything well on the same day. Some days, the work gets the best of you, and the kids get the tired version. Some days, the kids get the best of you, and the inbox waits until tomorrow. That's not poor time management. That's being one person doing the work of five. Give yourself the grace you'd give anyone else in your position.
I don't have a bow to put on this one.
But here's what I know. Two years ago, I had a job, a salary, and a ceiling. Now I have three businesses, no ceiling, and the kind of tired that comes from building something that's actually yours.
That's not a complaint. That's the trade. And I'd make it again every single time.
So if you're reading this in your own version of the locked door and the 9 pm laptop. I see you.
Not the curated version. Not the one you post about. The real one. The one who locked the door and felt guilty about it. The one who's still at the laptop when the house is quiet, and everyone else is asleep.
Keep going.
My latest project…
A few weeks ago, I shared a short book about my weight loss and health journey, and the identity shift that made it possible.
Not the routines or the rules, but the internal changes that had to happen for me to stop cycling and start moving forward. I’m mentioning it here for anyone new, or anyone who wants to understand the deeper work behind sustainable change.
You can find it here if you want to read more.
Before You Go
I’ve been writing these pieces in the quiet, between school runs, work, and late-night thinking, but I’ve started sharing more of the journey in real time too. The reflections, the systems, the messier parts of reinvention that never make it into the newsletter.
If you want to follow along, you’ll find me here:
Come say hi. It’s less about followers, more about finding the others who are doing the invisible work too.
If something in this email made you pause, think, or feel seen, send it to a friend who’s been quietly trying to make a change, too.
You never know what might land at the right moment. Link here.
“The cost of building something real is paid in the hours nobody sees.”