I’ve always been in a hurry. From the age of nine months, I was on the run, according to my mother. Not in a sporty or graceful way (I’d often bump into things) but in an energetic, let’s get on with things, way. My goals were the guardrails of my time and I set them annually for my career, finances, travels and fitness. They kept me motivated and on track.
That was until 2019. Instead of bubbling with plans, I staggered into the new year feeling weary and disenchanted and unable to commit to a single goal. That didn’t mean I wasn’t busy, especially at work. There was always another cost to drive down or an efficiency to optimise. But the question that kept niggling at me was: “Is this truly what life is about?”
