Her Helpers showed me a pair of muddy boots at the back of the wardrobe

Short version

I did a reading this morning for a woman who has the perfect life (on paper) but who is about to either suffocate or explode.

What's really keeping her trapped isn't the children, the husband or the job. It's the guilt of wanting something else.

Her Helpers didn't offer sympathy; they showed me her own boots, caked in mud, shoved at the back of the wardrobe for fifteen years.

Action is the soul's currency, beautiful Facebook people. Go and dig yours out before the choice gets made for you.

Long version

Marit has a (good enough) partner. Teenage children who are basically fine. A good, secure job. On paper, her life is entirely sorted.

She's also suffocating, and has been for years.

I'm not joking when I say that when I connected to her, it felt like being in a pressure cooker. She was going to either implode or explode from the overwhelming weight of it all.

Anyway, I finished her reading an hour ago, and I'm still a bit knocked sideways by it, if I'm honest.

She got in touch because she can't sleep properly any more. Not because of one big thing, but because of what she calls the low hum of "is this it?" that never switches off. She used the words hamster wheel, merry-go-round and circus six times in her message before I'd even picked up a pen.

When I looked at what's actually going on with her, at what was causing this feeling, it wasn't the children, the husband or the boss.

It was guilt. Plain and simple. Ordinary, corrosive guilt for wanting something else, and anger and frustration at herself for NOT doing anything about it, and for not being able to just let it lie.

You can see how that conflict builds up. We're handed a rulebook before we're old enough to argue with it. Parents, teachers, whoever raised us, draw the map for us, and we learn early that following it is what makes us good people.

So we get very good at walking other people's routes and keeping their logistics running, whilst our own things get pushed to the back of the queue, "for now".

Marit's "for now" has lasted about fifteen years.

Anyway. When I connected to her Helpers, I expected the usual gentle, compassionate stuff. An arm round the shoulder, that sort of thing.

That didn't happen. I met frustration instead.

They showed me an image (one I've often used as a symbol of resignation) of a pair of old boots, caked in mud, shoved right at the back of a wardrobe behind all the coats she actually wears. Years of dust on them.

Her boots. Her own path. Abandoned there because she's been too busy walking the road everybody else decided for her, in everybody else's shoes.

Here's the part I want to say outright, because I think it matters more than the image itself:

The universe, God, your spirit guides, your late friends and relatives do not care whether you were an obedient, self-sacrificing, dutiful good girl who kept the peace and made sure everybody else was comfortable. That isn't what you're measured on over there. That isn't what actually counts.

ALL OF THEM, absolutely every single one, care about whether you actually lived whilst you had a body to do it in.

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it: action is the soul's currency. Not sacrifice. Not being agreeable. Action. Action. Action.

So if you recognise a bit of Marit in yourself, listen carefully: making a choice for your own sake isn't selfish. It's maintenance. If you never use your own compass, you end up standing on the edge of somebody else's map long after the bus has gone, wondering how you got there.

And I know some of you reading this aren't Marit. Some of you have already jumped, or your life has already exploded whether you chose it or not, and now you're standing in the rubble with no map at all wondering what to do next. That's a different reading for a different post, but the thing about the boots applies to you too. The path doesn't vanish just because you've finally stopped walking somebody else's.

You don't need to burn down the marriage, storm out of the job or book a one-way ticket to Thailand tomorrow. Nobody's asking for that.

Just get the boots out. Brush off the dust. Take one step in your own direction, and do it today.

That one small choice shifts your coordinates just enough that in a year, five years or ten years you're somewhere else entirely, instead of standing on exactly the same spot, older and more tired.

If any of this landed a bit too close, and you're sick of walking in circles on somebody else's path, send me a message. I'll help you get started on your own.

Have an action-packed, summery week, beautiful Facebook people.

Simon

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