#29: All good things take time
We have to grow lemons before we can make lemonade
Hey friends,
It’s been another interesting week here at Making Lemonade HQ - not because anything especially exciting happened, but because I’ve realised that I’ve been stuck in a big old self-deprecating rut recently, and it hasn't been doing me any favours.
I've needed a bit of a shake-up, a reminder that everything takes the time it takes, and some things can't be rushed, no matter how much we wish we could press fast-forward.
This week, I had a mentoring client who is just over a month into starting their business and was already feeling dejected that it wasn't going the way they wanted. They thought they'd have full books off the back; especially after sending email after email to people who previously seemed interested in their services.
But, when they took a step back and looked at it objectively, they realised that there was a lesson in being choosy instead of saying yes to everyone - or waiting for them to say no to them.
They'd been so desperate to fill their books and chase the yeses that they hadn't stopped to check in with themselves if that specific yes was actually what they wanted - or if they just wanted a yes - and had found themselves agreeing to things they didn’t actually want to do.
For the longest time, I was the same with freelance writing. I was so happy people were paying me to write that I would do anything to please them, even at the cost of myself.
These last few years have helped me see things a little differently, but a few lessons have been harder won. Like learning to rest and fill up my cup, not just running it dry again and again and again and expecting it to keep refilling itself.
Once you plant a lemon tree, you might be waiting up to four years for your first ripe-and-ready lemon, and that's if conditions are perfect. Any extra stress can set it back longer, depending on the level and how long it lasts.
Even knowing this, we still plant them. We still water them, give them nutrients and love, and celebrate every single win - or at least you do if you're me: first leaf, first bud, first flower, first fruit. Go tree!
Yet, in our always-rushing-around, results-driven human world, we don't allow ourselves the same grace.
We expect ourselves to be able to rush around all day every day, both at work and at home, and still keep producing fruit, no matter what else is going on in our lives.
We treat ourselves more like artificial lemon-flavoured soda than freshly squeezed lemonade. The kind that doesn't even have real sugar, just high fructose corn syrup, because efficiency is key.
Product over process. At any cost.
About seven months ago, I hit a wall and burned out, hard.
After ten years of freelancing, I couldn't write anymore. Every time I’d sit down at my desk, I’d feel angry. The words wouldn’t come and I’d get frustrated. My chronic pain got worse.
An article that should take two hours to write might take two weeks, and the endless cycle of deadlines, edits, pitches, and rejections was crushing my soul.
It was like all the years of long-distance caregiving, visa and pandemic stress, identity crises, and business and financial struggles came together and hit me like a sack of bricks.
I was utterly exhausted, uninspired, and fed up. But I also knew I was the only person who could do anything about it.
So, I decided to give myself six months off freelancing to do some of the things I'd wanted to do for ages but hadn't had the time or energy for - things like building a website, starting this Substack, writing a book, and making the move into creative mentoring.
I built myself a little financial buffer so I didn't have to feel guilty about not working as much, and promised I’d try not to judge myself and have lots of self-compassion as I tried new things.
Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. Well, the website, the Substack, and the mentoring did, but the self-compassion and the lack of judgement didn’t.
Even the full six months off didn’t happen; I really struggled with making zero income - but I still tried to limit my freelancing work as much as I could.
If I’m honest, which I guess is the whole point of this post, I was my own worst case study. If I’d been mentoring someone through this transition, I would’ve told them to do everything differently from what I told myself.
I was all stick, no carrot.
I forced myself to work stupidly long hours and weekends to “feel productive” and make up for not bringing in much income.
I kept moving the goalposts and changing the rules of the game while I was in the middle of it.
I struggled big-time with fear, guilt, shame, procrastination, and perfectionism.
I spent far too much time bogged down in tiny irrelevant details rather than big picture stuff. This meant everything took 2-3x as long as it should have (or even longer) - and the cycle perpetuated.
And so, while I did manage to achieve what I set out to achieve - I built the website, started this Substack, started writing a book, and have some great mentoring clients who I love working with - I feel even more exhausted and burned out than I did in October, and yet still slightly frustrated that I didn't do more.
All things considered, I managed to get a lot done in the last six months. But I'm now realising that isn't necessarily something I should be proud of.
My proverbial lemon tree is stressed, and the more pressure I put on it - and me - the worse I'm making it.
In hindsight, I should’ve started those six months with some time and space to breathe and grieve - to fill my cup, instead of going in all guns blazing, trying to force the lemon tree into fruiting, expecting overnight results when I was already wrung dry.
In all honesty, though, it's much harder to give ourselves that space and grace than it is to pile our plate with other things. The more we move the goalposts and spend time chasing our tails, the less time we have to sit in sorrow or sadness.
These plate-piling and goalpost-moving techniques are also a way of giving us the illusion of control back over our lives, and someone to blame (ourselves) when we don't manage to reach the unreachable.
It's funny how much harder it is to be all carrot and compassion, not stick and punishment - especially when it comes to how we treat ourselves.
I feel like I almost understand where those old-school self-flagellating monks were coming from, although I'm not about to start busting out the hair shirts or the whips, I promise.
Instead, I’ve decided to extend my “break” to the end of the financial year (June) and give myself even more grace. To reframe this year as a fallow, experimental year, rather than a famine one.
I’d love to say I’m going to try and achieve as little as possible between now and then but that feels too much of a stretch. Instead, I’m just going to try and go very easy. To tread gently and lovingly; and to celebrate all my little wins along the way. Go me!
Yikes, that makes me feel uncomfortable. But it also says to me how important it is for me to nurture my inner lemon tree and break this self-deprecating cycle and build better habits. It's been a long time coming.
And so for a little spot of reflection, to end today’s post, I wonder if there’s anywhere in your life where you may be feeling called to give yourself a little bit of grace and space, too. Let me know if you are - we can be (un)accountability partners!
Thanks for being here. I hope this was helpful.
All my love,
Cass xx
i’ve been feeling the same way recently, as i’m in the middle of a fairly aimless period during my PhD where everyone expects me to be uber productive and make discoveries and yada yada yada. “how little can you do (for other people/their expectations)? can you make your goals even smaller? why don’t you want to be uber productive during this time?” are things i keep asking myself. it’s been tough to listen to the voice from within that is telling me to be patient and dare to think slowly and deliberately and intentionally, but it’s been good to know that that voice is there after all…
We didn’t have the same experience but very similar. Thank you for writing this honest piece and sharing it with us.
After I shut down my consulting business, I wanted to just write, on my Substack and get going on my book. I wanted that mental space because, like you, at the end of my PR career, the projects that would take me a couple hours would take me a week. I knew I had to slow down and do something different. I did not slow down, in fact, I ended up starting a podcast with a friend! It was self sabotage. I learned a lot. I quit the pod recently and now I’m here with my original writing goals. Will I learn my lesson and understand that my process can be slower? I hope so. My nervous system needs it to be.