I’ve gone back and forth about writing this.
As I type these words, it looks like I am.
Last week was the final week of our trip to Portugal.
It had been a wonderful month.
Less work than usual. Great weather. Great food. Lots of training. Long walks. Beautiful sunsets.
And plenty of time to think.
As it turns out, perhaps too much time.
For the first time, I could genuinely see myself living there one day.
Not now.
But sometime in the future.
Perhaps when I ease back on work.
Perhaps sooner.
For the first time, Portugal looked like somewhere I could happily live as well as work.
At the same time, I found myself thinking about Australia.
Both our kids are there now, and it looks increasingly like they’ll stay.
That makes me genuinely happy because they’re creating lives they love.
But Australia is a long way from Dungannon.
It’s also a long way from Portugal.
Without really noticing, my mind started asking questions.
What if they stay?
What if they have children?
What if Jules wants to move there?
What if I’m not ready?
What if I can’t work?
What if visa regulations stop me coaching?
What if we want different things?
One question became ten.
Ten became fifty.
Before long, I’d created a future I was afraid to live in.
A future where I was either separated from my family… or separated from work that I love… or, in my worst moments, separated from Jules.
None of it had happened.
Not one bit of it.
It felt completely real.
And yet… it was all made up.
My mood dropped.
I withdrew.
Away from Jules.
Away from myself.
There I was, spending the final days in one of my favourite places in the world, with my favourite person in the world…
…and I was miserable.
It made absolutely no sense.
I knew it was coming from my thinking.
I could even see an old pattern re-emerging.
But seeing it wasn’t enough to stop it.
So I did what I’d always done.
I tried to fix it.
I tried to think my way out of it.
I tried to speak my document out of it.
I tried to gym my way out of it.
Nothing worked.
In fact, the harder I tried to get rid of the thinking, the more solid it seemed to become.
Jules asked me what was wrong.
I couldn’t tell her.
I was afraid I’d say something that would hurt her or make things worse.
That lasted for almost two days.
Then, on the journey home, something from my burnout came back to me.
During that time, years ago, I’d had one simple thought.
“This will pass.”
I remembered how much that had helped me.
Not because it changed my thinking.
Because it stopped me fighting it.
I stopped trying to fix myself.
I stopped trying to make the thoughts disappear.
I simply let them be there.
And little by little…
…they passed.
By the time we reached the airport I could finally tell Jules what had been going on.
As she tends to do, Jules assumed she’d done something wrong.
I was able to tell her she hadn’t.
Not only had she not caused how I was feeling…
She couldn’t have.
Ever.
What I was experiencing was coming entirely from my own thinking.
Over the next couple of days the thoughts became quieter.
The feelings softened.
By Sunday I felt like myself again.
I’m not sharing this because I’m looking for sympathy.
I’m sharing it because I suspect I’m not the only person whose thinking sometimes creates a reality that doesn’t exist.
It’s remarkably easy to wander into an unwelcome future that hasn’t happened.
Remarkably easy to mistake fearful thinking for truth.
Remarkably easy to forget who we really are.
Nothing outside of me caused those two difficult days.
My thinking did.
And once I stopped fighting it…
…my mind did what minds naturally do.
It settled.
As Tom Hanks says so beautifully in the short clip I’m sharing…
“This too shall pass.”
VIDEO
Much love
Peter