entrepreneur journey, Make money online

Wake-up calls

Earlier this week, I got on here and poured my heart out in a post that I never published…

After much humming and ahing over the past few days, I’ve decided to go ahead and hit “publish”.  But I’m doing this with a short intro and conclusion.  If you’re going through a rough time in your business, my hope is that my transparency will help you in some way. 

Ok, let’s go.  Here’s what I typed out last Thursday:


This is not a “business” post really.

It’s a “pour my heart out” post. 

No idea how many people will read this, and to be quite honest, I don’t really care.  Above all, I’m writing this for myself — to record the journey and have a trace of it somewhere (which is kind of what a blog is about anyway, isn’t it?).

I’m back to questioning everything… I so wish I’d stop doing this, but it seems I can’t help it.

“Is this all really for me?”…  “Do I really want to carry on?”…

These are just some of the numerous questions going on in my head.

I started this online business after a wake-up call.  A HUGE wake-up call.  My dad came back into my life in September 2016, after spending 19 years in the USA.  He was “sent back” to us here in Switzerland — literally put on a plane against his will.  Overnight, I became a carer — as did my sister.

Dad had had a stroke… and this brilliant, clever, creative, active guy had become a shadow of himself.  I’ll spare you all the gruesome details — let’s just say he was very dependent on us.

By the end of 2017, the dust had settled a little and I was, kind of, used to my new life with my dad in it… and that’s when I decided I just HAD to go for my dream of building an online business.  I looked at my dad and all the dreams he had and would never be able to accomplish… and I thought “Sophie, you have to do it NOW, or it will be too late!”

So I went for it.

Fast forward six years, and I now have a profitable business, with 2024 being my best year ever.

Everything should be great, right? 

Except it isn’t.

It’s SO hard to admit, but it’s the truth.

Last week my surviving parent, my mum, gave me another wake-up call…

She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease almost exactly seven years ago, in March 2018. There’d be so much to say about all this, but I won’t go into it today. People think Alzheimer’s is just about forgetting, but it’s a lot more than that… It’s a cruel disease, that’s all I’ll write for now. 

Anyway, last week I brought my mum to a home, where she could stay for a couple of weeks, while my stepdad had a break.  He’s exhausted and needs some respite.

Less than 48 hours after that, the home called us: my mum was so disoriented that she had to be transferred to a different home, more “adapted” to her condition.

She’s there now, and it’s all going well.  The staff is wonderful and the people are lovely.  Mum’s adapting well, so no worries there.

“So what’s the problem Sophie?” you might be thinking, if you’re reading this…

Well I guess there’s no problem, really.  It’s just that it’s suddenly hitting me all over again: this life is short, so fricking short!  And I have no idea what state I’ll be in in a few years from now.

I go and visit my mum, and it’s hard to explain the mix of emotions that it makes me go through…  on the one hand, she’s doing well, but on the other, there’s something so tragic when you see your parent like that.

Super simple things become complicated… most of the daily activities we take for granted become challenging.  Going to the bathroom, signing your name, deciding what clothes to wear, remembering what day of the week it is… these are just a few in a long list of things…

And this is where my wake-up call lies.

Both my parents were brilliant people.  Sure, they were complicated and really, really not great parents in many ways.  My dad was mentally ill; my mum was hard and judgmental; both neglected and abused us in different ways.  It’s not like everything was great under the sun and we were one big happy family.  But nothing is ever black or white.  They gave me great things too.  Dad gave me creativity, determination, sensitivity, empathy, faith, and a lot more… Mum gave me her infectious laugh and enthusiasm… both gave me my big blue eyes, as well as a love of books, writing and music.

Even though I’ve had a complicated relationship with my parents, I have so much love for them and I know how intelligent, creative and active people they were. 

Ok, enough airing of the family’s dirty laundry and back to my wake-up call!

Seeing my mum like this, I look at my own life and what I’m doing, and I ask myself: “Am I doing what I truly want to be doing?  Am I making the most of the time I have left?”

In many ways, my parents made a huge mess of their respective lives.  I’ve always vowed not to do the same. 

Have I managed?  I’m not so sure.

My children are my world and my pride.  I can’t begin to say how much I love them and how fully I’ve enjoyed having them in my life, raising them, spending time with them, helping them pursue their dreams… I’ve SO loved being a mum.  So so so much.  When I first started this business, I called it “Millionaire Mum”, because I truly feel I’m a millionaire.  Frank, Clara, Anna and Benjamin… you are my priceless treasure, my pot of gold and diamonds.

But… (why does there always have to be a but?)…

But my children are not “mine” — and that’s a good thing.  They are their own people, and my work is to help them fly the nest, leave, go into the world and be on their own journey.

As much as I passionately love them all, I’ve always needed my own “stuff” too.  I never want them to feel they can’t leave me.  I never want to be dependent on them for my happiness.  As close as we are as a family, we each have our own bubble.

There are many elements in my own bubble — one of them is my business. 

Which brings me back to my wake up call and my question: “Am I doing what I truly want to be doing?”

And the honest answer is: “I’m not sure!”

It’s SO hard to admit this.  It’s even harder to write it down for the world to see.  But that’s the truth.  I’M NOT SURE.

Dean, my trusted mentor, asked me to write down everything I do.  Break it down.  Be honest with myself and the time I spend on each task.

I did that yesterday… and then I looked at it all and thought “f*ck!”.

It was easy to break it all down.  I know exactly what I’m doing.  I’m organised.  I’m proud of how I’m doing all this. 

I calculated my hours and I do between 30 and 36 hours a week of work for this business…  at home, alongside my two remaining homeschooled kids, while running the household, and doing all the usual stuff a mum does.  There are many interruptions, challenges and changes of plan, but I’ve managed to do it all nonetheless.

Getting it done isn’t the issue.

The hard work isn’t the issue.

The organising it all isn’t the issue.

But what comes back to haunt me all the time is: is this truly what I want to develop and grow? Is this how I want to spend my time?  

I’m 54, and when I look at my mum I’m filled with this awful sense of panic; what if this happens to me?  What if, 20 years down the line, I start forgetting how to go to the bathroom or sign my own name?  20 years is so short, it goes in a flash.  What do I want to have accomplished by then?  What do I want to leave to my children?  And even more importantly, what do I want to spend time doing with them right now

The truth is, I love helping others and I love coaching, but I don’t love what it’s turning my life into. 

I’ll say it again, it’s SO hard to admit this, but it’s the truth.  I’m spending way too much time on Zoom helping others, and far too little time doing all the other things I love and wanted to do more of when I started this business in the first place!

I’m great at ignoring my own meltdowns and have years of practice ignoring my own needs.  So my default position is to just carry on.

But there’s another part of me that asks: what if I just face this?  What if I just listen to this?  What if I do the unthinkable and STOP?

One thing strikes me, over and over again: I always default to something where I help others. 

And as much as I love doing that, I always end up doing too much of it, to the point that it leaves me exhausted and unfulfilled.  It’s almost like I can’t help myself.  But I must be choosing to do this, somehow.  I mean, it doesn’t just happen.

So today I’m wondering: what if I allowed myself to do things differently for once?  What if I dared imagine a life where I make a living in a different way, at least in part?

A while ago, someone asked me this fairly “cliché” question that goes “if money was no object and you had a magic wand, what would you be doing right now?”

And you know what was the first thing that came to me? It was that “I’d be writing”.  Why that is, I don’t know; I’m not a writer.  But I DO have a hundred books in my head, that I’ve always wanted to write.

I’m not saying I’m about to quit this online business and be the next J.K. Rowling (bless her brave and wonderful heart).  But I was struck that this was what popped into my head.  It had nothing to do with helping people, coaching or teaching…

Anyway… I’m back at a crossroads, trying to ride this wave but finding it rather tough. 

On the one hand it’s so wonderful to be working with great people: I love my students, I love chatting with them, helping them through roadblocks, getting people unstuck, troubleshooting, sharing what I know… 

and on the other hand, I feel I’m doing too much of it and I’m drained…


This is where I stopped on Thursday.

I was interrupted and went on with my day, without hitting publish.  The perfectionist in me wanted to read through it again about five times and find the perfect conclusion… and in all honesty, there was an anxious part of me that was whispering “you can’t publish that!”… 

So I didn’t, but I will now — after I add a short conclusion. 

There’s a valuable lesson in all this for me, and I hope it will help some others too. 

I did a lot of soul-searching, meditating and crying this week… but instead of fighting it, I decided to just let it happen.  I stared my biggest fear in the eye: what if I quit?  What if I stopped?  What if I changed directions? 

I forced myself not to go to my usual “just carry on Sophie” mode. 

It’s odd, because for many people, the hardest thing is to stay consistent and keep on keeping on.  I think it’s the opposite for me: the hardest thing is to stop. 

But this time, I rode the wave and accepted the turmoil I was going through.  I had a hard, honest look at that list of things I do to make money online and realised I spend too much time on Zoom and not enough time creating.  As imperfect as my content is, I LOVE creating it.   Somehow I’ve gotten to a place where there’s hardly any time to do this anymore… so I do less and less of it, and I miss it! 

I love sharing “stuff” with the world, whether it’s tips, tricks, reviews, tutorials, or just my lightbulb moments.  Not only do I love it… I’ve also made multiple five figures from it, whether it be YouTube videos, emails, Facebook posts or even blog posts.  I want to organise my work so I again have time to do that… more and more of that — not less! 

It feels so good to have identified all this.  This was a hard week, but it ends in peace, with so much more clarity, as well as a plan :-).

Yep, I have a plan ?  It’s not dramatic or anything… I won’t change directions drastically… but I’m steering my ship away from doing tons of coaching and towards having more time for content creation. 

Three lessons I learned from this week’s turmoil, that might help you too:

  • if you keep having the same meltdown, you need to listen to it, it’s trying to tell you something
  • your worst fear isn’t always the one you think it is
  • when you’re going through turbulence, don’t resist it; accept it, ride the wave, look at it and answers will come

I’ll end this with a special thanks to Dean, for always believing in me, challenging me, and trusting me.  I appreciate you more than you know.

And to mum… thank you for this wake-up call… you don’t know you’ve helped me, but you have.  And as hard as our relationship has been, I love you, as I know you love me.

 

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