“I can’t do another year like this.”
- deborahberrymanyog
- Jan 9
- 5 min read
Dear Enough Is Enough,
“I can’t do another year like this.”
I heard this exact sentence from three women I coached this week. And each time, my heart whispered, "Gosh, I really hope so."
I know this place so well.
I felt like this when I knew my relationship wasn’t somewhere I could grow or be fully myself. I felt like this when I was in a job I was good at, but quietly hated. I felt like this when my life was so full and busy that the only thing I could feel was exhaustion… and a low-grade, seething rage I didn’t quite know what to do with.
It’s a hard juncture to be at.
On one hand, it feels obvious. You can see clearly that life could (and should) feel better than this. You’re probably still showing up. Doing what needs doing. Being capable, thoughtful, reliable – even while something inside you is quietly saying “this isn’t it”.
And on the other… you’re bone tired. And if you’re honest, frightened of what change might cost.
What if I misjudge this and blow up something that was actually workable? What if I disappoint people I care deeply about? What if I finally admit I want more – and find out I’m asking for more than I’m allowed to have? What if I change things… and still don’t feel better?
We start to imagine what change might take – the energy, the courage, the conversations we’ve been avoiding for years. And before we know it, we’ve catastrophised our way into a future starring a sad old cat lady, with no money, no friends, and a house full of regret (sound familiar?)
And just like that, we've talked ourselves out of even exploring what might be possible without taking a single tiny, brave step.
What we rarely ask is: What’s the cost of another year of doing everything “right”, while staying quietly unsatisfied?
This is where I want to slow us down and take a breath.
Because these kinds of transitions don’t start with action. They start with an inner reckoning.
A moment where we stop arguing with ourselves about what’s true. Where we make peace with how we really feel, and what we really want – even if we don’t know what to do about it yet.
Not to decide. Not to act. Just to let reality be what it is.
This isn’t about opening a can of worms and leaving you alone with them. It’s about learning how to listen without spiralling.
For me, this is the most essential part. It’s the moment the war inside stops. (Let your body feel that for a moment)
So before the week gathers momentum, I want to offer you a gentle pause. By Sunday morning, many women already have a sense of how the week ahead is likely to go.
The familiar rhythms and patterns.Caught up in the responsibilities.The quiet postponing of whatever’s been whispering underneath it all.
And by mid-January, we’re often back in the full momentum of our lives…possibly for another year. Again.
If you don’t make space for this kind of pause, daily life will keep deciding for you, and it rarely chooses what your soul needs.
You’ve seen how this goes. Maybe in your parents. Maybe with people you work with, or friends. People who are desperately sad or even miserable in their lives, often complaining (or suffering in silence), and never quite allow themselves to listen honestly. Before long, it turns into that all too familiar refrain: It’s too late for me now.
So this moment matters. What you do or don’t do matters.
Not as a dramatic turning point or a demand for action (who needs that in January!)But as a choice to stop overriding yourself and listen a little more honestly.
These reckonings take time to perculate. So you don’t have to do anything with what you hear. And you don’t have to make decisions or take action.But listening now preserves choice and grace – the chance to respond before resentment or exhaustion decide for you.
This is the place I’ve walked in my life, again and again. And it’s where (and why) I now specialise in walking with other women through these threshold moments. Not by telling them what to do or pushing them toward change, but by helping them rebuild trust in themselves. Enough to hear what’s true. Enough to honour all parts of themselves. Enough to move at a pace that doesn’t betray them.
That’s the heart and soul of my work.
If you’ve recognised yourself in any of what I’ve shared this week, I want to remind you that the free workshop on Tuesday is simply a place to orient.
Not to change your life. Not to force clarity or derail anything.
Just to slow down and understand what’s already stirring, with care, not pressure, so you can begin trusting yourself again, instead of pushing yourself harder.
By the end of our time together, you won’t have a to-do list – but you will have more clarity about what actually deserves your energy, and what doesn’t.
You can love your life and still want more from it.You can be grateful and still feel that something needs attention.
If that feels true for you, you’d be very welcome to join us.
Whatever you choose, I hope you give yourself a moment today to notice what’s real, before the week and the world tells you who and how to be.
And if, as you read this, you felt a quiet but steady “yes!” - not urgency, not panic, just a sense of readiness, then trust that too.
Walking with you all the way, slow and brave, Love, Deborah 💛
P.S. If this email landed gently but you’re not ready to do anything with it, that’s okay. Nothing needs to be rushed.
Or if you're feeling something stir, you can hit reply and tell me the one area of your life you don’t want to repeat for another year. No fixing, no pressure, I’ll meet you right where you are. I read every message and reply personally.
P.P.S. And if you know you’re ready to take a steady next step, not dramatic, not reckless, just supported and intentional, I’ve opened two coaching spaces starting in February. Simply reply and tell me you’d like to explore it.
