Imagine that you are dead.
Superficially you had a happy life – a nice house, decent salary, good friends.
Still, you felt stressed and de-motivated at work, your performance failed to meet your own standards, your self-esteem was diving.
Externally, all may have looked well. Internally, you have been leading a life of quiet desperation.
You look back on your life and think about what you did with your time on Earth.
You see this person who got out there and lived life to the full, who would try anything at least once, who might succeed or might fail but would always learn something from the experience, who really seem to grab hold of life with both hands.
That version of your life seem so authentic to you that you look at it with great satisfaction and think, ‘What a great life I have had’.
It will take you a moment to recall that this was just a fantasy.
Your actual life is only half that life by comparison. Superficially satisfying, it clearly does not measure up to the fantasy you had just created.
The fantasy life felt like the one that you had actually been born to live, free from fear, free to flourish.
Now that you had a glimpse what could be, you can no longer pretend that this half-life is enough for you.
You realise then that you need to make a radical change of direction if you wasn’t going to end up being disappointed with your life.
Get a pen and a notebook, take an hour or two from your busy life and find somewhere you can enjoy interrupted time with yourself. And start writing.