‘You should see a life coach,’ someone said to me.

I had been talking about turning forty: and my lack of focus now that the boys are both at school; and my aimless wandering from one unfinished project to another; and the general blah blah blahs I get when I look at my To Do list, the same list that used to make me feel excited and motivated; and how my mum was 46 when she died and didn’t get to use her long service leave and I’m not going to let that happen to me, but look here I am on the couch doing nothing to make sure that doesn’t happen; and my growing financial dependence on my partner which is, right now, freaking me absolutely out; etcetera etcetera etcetera (I know, being around me is a bundle of laughs right now – but trust me, no one is more bored by me and my woes than I myself am).

I wasn’t really sold on this life coach idea. Thought it might be a bit of wank. But then I did a bit of looking around, and I thought, ‘It can’t hurt’. It’s kind of just career counselling, but with a bit of other stuff thrown in. And geez I pay a tarot card reader, an acupuncurist and hairdresser to fix my life, why wouldn’t I pay life coach?

So, I sent off an enquiry email or two. You know, as they suggested. Gave a brief outline and where I am and what I’d want out of life coaching.

Then I started looking forward to it. This is just what I need, I thought. Bit of a talk about what’s good, what’s realistic, what’s dreams. Yeah. This’ll be great. Bit of life coaching and I’ll be on track. Set to blast into my forties with a sense of purpose. There’s still time to change the world.