So I’m back on the sofa.
It’s a leather sofa from IKEA. Large, lots of cushions, surprisingly good quality. I’ve had it for 19 years. It has survived two pregnancies and about twelve years of me, on and off, after illness made me leave my job.
The sofa is still in excellent shape. (I’m choosing not to draw any conclusions from that.)
Every time I get sick, my head goes straight back to the sofa’s greatest hits. Roller coaster on the outside, high-speed carousel on the inside. I worry about everything, and about one thing in particular:
What if I end up staying here. Again.
The best way I can explain it: I have a Ferrari engine in my head. At some point it got mounted in an old East German Trabant. One that’s missing spare parts.
The engine revs. The car goes maybe...
So I distract myself. I scroll. I look at things. And I watch far too many AI-generated mafia romance movies. Yes. That’s my dirty little secret. Preferably the ones with an evil stepsister.
Somewhere between two evil stepsisters, I remembered that I can ask myself a question:
Is this helpful?
No. It’s not.
When I’m sick, I have a limited amount of energy. Spending it on worrying whether I’ll ever get up again is a terrible investment. Nobody knows what the future brings. Not me. Not the stepsister.
So I get my notebook out and ask the other question:
What if everything works out? What happens then?
It doesn’t fix the Trabant. But it points it in the right direction.
That question is how I rebuilt a good life, even with a body that doesn’t always cooperate. I take charge of what I can. I use the time I’ve got. And I do things with my scouts now that would have been flat-out impossible five years ago.
None of that came from figuring it all out on the sofa first.
Which brings me to the part where I practice what I preach.
I’ve just finished the theory part of my ICF coaching training. I was coaching long before that. As a scout leader, training other leaders, and with clients back when I built websites (which, honestly, was mostly coaching with a website attached). At some point I put my butt down and went for the official certification.
The next step towards certification is completing my 100 coaching practice hours.
And I would love to coach people. Lots of people.
I’m giving away my next 20 coaching sessions for free, (or a coffee if you want)
So. You.
Maybe you have a hundred plans running around in your head and no idea where to start. Maybe there’s something you’ve been postponing for years. Maybe you’ve made the same decision fourteen times and still haven’t done it. Or your life looks fine on paper, and you’re starting to suspect “fine” is the plan for the next twenty years.
Bring that.
It doesn’t have to be a big life crisis, and it doesn’t have to fit a category. If it’s taking up space in your head, it counts.
I’m a master overthinker myself, so I recognize the loop fast. Usually before you’ve finished the sentence. (Takes one to know one.) I listen properly. I ask what’s actually going on, including the questions you’ve been politely avoiding asking yourself.
I won’t hand you a five-step plan. You’ll leave with a clearer picture of what’s really going on, and a next step that’s yours. Not mine. Yours.
You won’t think your way out of this on your own. You’ve tried. It’s a very comfortable sofa.
Book a session. You don’t need to have it figured out before we talk.
That’s rather the point.
🩷 Solfrid