After the workbook
They arrive on their own, a few days apart. A welcome, one useful thing, permission to want something, and a question. The paid hour is not in here.
The workbook is with this note. Who Am I Now? You can read it on your phone tonight, or print it and actually write in it. Either is the right way.
There are seven rooms. Stay in the one that flickers. Leave the one that doesn’t. There is no score at the end, and no one waiting to see if you finished.
I’m glad you’re here. That’s the whole of this note.
Kathryn x
Women get extraordinarily good at anticipating. Remembering the birthday, smoothing the room, answering the email, keeping the wheels turning, and still asking everyone else how they are.
Do something well for long enough and it turns invisible. So, one question, and then you can close this:
What are you carrying because you’ve always carried it?
You don’t have to put it down today. Just notice the weight. Noticing is the education. The rest can wait.
Kathryn x
Wanting something does not obligate you to blow your life up. You can tell yourself the truth and still make the lunches tomorrow.
More mornings that aren’t a race. More dinners that run late because nobody wants to leave. More ocean. More work that actually matters to you. More silence. More creating something because you want to.
And the other list, the less-of list, is allowed to be honest too. Write it before you negotiate with it.
Kathryn x
Look back at what you wrote. The sentence you circled. The answer that surprised you. The thing that made something in you go: oh.
You don’t need a name for it. If you feel like telling someone, reply to this. I read them. There is no offer waiting under the signature.
You are already living your life. The question is whether you’re in it.
Kathryn x
Building a life I love being in.