Big girl decisions were made

You might want to grab a cuppa for this one.

It’s been six months since I launched this newsletter which feels wild to say, and I’m so happy that there are now 200 of you here with me. Honestly, it means the world.

If you’ve joined recently, hi I’m Nat 👋 and if you’ve been here since day one, thank you for sticking around while I figure out how to do life, work, and everything in between.

And if we haven’t met properly yet, I’d love to hear from you. Hit reply and introduce yourself - who you are, what you’re working on, what brought you here. I read and reply to every single one.

Ok, cuppa ready? Let’s get into it.

I’ve got big news to share.

I’m leaving the business I’ve built over the last five years.

I’m stepping away as Cofounder and Director of The Future Kind.

My incredible cofounder, Alicia, will be continuing the work we've become known for.

And me?

Well, first things first: I’m taking a four-month sabbatical. More on that in a sec.

Beyond that... honestly? I’m not entirely sure yet.

I have inklings. I want to keep building my public speaking work. I love facilitation, so workshops will always have a place. And I’ve enrolled in a coaching accreditation because, after years of doing it informally, I’m finally launching my 1:1 coaching practice in the new year.

But I’m also open-minded.

I describe myself these days as a portfolio-career girlie. I like having multiple hats and trying on new ones. My parents think I’m mad. I think it’s mad that we expect ourselves to be one thing forever.

A butcher.

A baker.

A candlestick maker.

Why pick one? I’m ADHD-coded chaos with range. And running my own thing means I get to embrace that.

But I digress.

The truth is, I fell out of love with my work.

It’s not that I didn’t think the work was important or valuable. It is! I saw the impact it had. I saw more and more people talking about inclusive culture, people-first organisations and product-led approaches to HR. I saw my cofounder thriving. I saw her passion growing. But I couldn’t feel mine anymore.

I just felt a bit meh.

I started to lose that get-up-and-go I had in the early years. I’d deliver a great workshop, get brilliant feedback, and feel… nothing.

I started thinking about the money instead of the meaning.

And I’ve realised this: just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you should keep doing it.

When you stop enjoying it, it curdles. You can’t dream of something new when you’re full of resentment. You can’t imagine possibilities when you’re dragged down by the day-to-day.

My apathy started to seep into my work, and that wasn’t fair to my cofounder (Alicia), my clients, or myself.

Luckily, Alicia is one of the best humans I’ve ever met. We’ve always built our business on friendship first. But we were in different seasons, and when one person’s coasting while the other’s flying, it’s hard to meet in the middle. Nonetheless, she rode the waves with me, both personally and professionally, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was holding her back. And in doing so, holding myself back, too.

So we had the chat. The big, scary, emotional one.

And she met me with total love and support (because of course she did, she’s Alicia).

I am so grateful to her. Without Alicia, I doubt I’d even be an entrepreneur. She was the one who first said, “I’ve always wanted to start a business, but I don’t want to do it alone.” I said, “Wow, that’s so freaking cool.” Not realising she was proposing. I just sat back and looked at her in awe.

And what a partnership it’s been. When we’re in a room together - scheming, facilitating, dreaming - it’s like our brains share Wi-Fi. Like our minds are connected like the roots between trees. We just get each other. That’s what makes leaving so hard.

I also worried I couldn’t do it on my own. Still do, sometimes. But this is my season of backing myself, wholeheartedly.

If you’ve lost your spark, hit a wall, or fallen out of love with the work you once dreamed of doing, please know that it’s ok. It doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you a beautiful human, and one that’s evolving.

You can change things. You can start again.

It’s never too late. It won’t be easy, and there’ll be lots of sacrifices. Expect grief, loss, identity death. But on the other side? There’s freedom, joy, creativity, energy you forgot you had.

Don’t stay so long you start resenting what you built. I love what I built, deeply. I’m proud of it. And I get to keep cheering on my best friend as she keeps growing it? Are you kidding me? What a gift.

Not all endings feel that generous. Some slam the door and lock it behind you. But choosing yourself, however messy it looks, is always the right call.

There’s no wrong decision when the decision is to step toward your most authentic life.

Now, onto my sabbatical era.

It’s kinda funny how we use the word “sabbatical” - it sounds so chic, like a well-earned spiritual getaway.

In reality, it’s often just: I need a break before I break.

Many people who take sabbaticals need a mental health retreat to work through some shit, heal and reset.

But “sabbatical” photographs better.

The truth is, I need time to just be.

The last two years have been full of loss and transition - a 12-year relationship ending, saying goodbye to my London home, closing chapters, changing friendships, and now stepping away from the business. All of these are positives as well as sources of deep pain.

I’m ok, genuinely ok (I promise), but I’m not ready to sprint again. I need to rest more before I start rebuilding. I’m still in recovery.

Since I started talking about my sabbatical, I’ve noticed that there’s this weird pressure to make it look sexy: beach shots, new hair, exotic trips, mysterious “big projects coming soon.”

Mine’s going to be quieter:

• I joined a gym with a spa so I can trick myself into lifting weights with sauna motivation.

• I’ve booked a cabin named after my dog (literally) for three days of solo time.

• I tried and failed to book a fancy surf retreat in Morocco, so I gave up on that idea and I'm prioritising time with friends, instead.

• I’m line dancing on Tuesdays, yoga-ing on Wednesdays.

• I’m reading lots, writing poetry, studying philosophy, psychology, and politics.

• I’m doing The Artist’s Way.

• And I’ll end it all with a queer, spiritual retreat in Sri Lanka.

Simple. Slow. Gorgeous.

When the anxiety about “what’s next” inevitably kicks in, I’m reminding myself of my sabbatical intention: to be present, to rest, to reconnect with joy.

I’ll be sharing reflections from this season in future editions of this newsletter - still with lessons on work, life, success, and leadership - but from a softer, slower place.

Thanks for being here for all of it.

With love and deep breath out,
Nat 🤍