The mum behind the squirrel

Right. So.

I have a full-time job. I make this in the evenings, after the kids have gone down, usually with something going cold next to me. Currently a coffee. It has been reheated twice and it is not going to be drunk.

The squirrel is my busy brain, personified. She's the bit of me that starts an entire conversation in my own head and then gets faintly annoyed with everyone else for not having been listening to it. She has considerably more personality than I do and I love her for it. I would quite like to be her.

Anyway.

Here's the thing I actually want to say, and there's a decent chance I'll get distracted before I finish it.

I'm not here to fix anyone. I don't think you need fixing.

I think you've been handed a lot of systems that were built for a completely different sort of brain, and then quietly made to feel like the problem when they didn't stick. Planners for people whose weeks go in straight lines. Advice written for someone with unlimited time and a working memory. Waiting rooms that assume a five year old will just wait.

Every planner you gave up on felt like proof. It wasn't proof. It was the wrong shape.

So I make small useful things instead. One less thing to hold. One less decision to make. One calmer meeting. Five minutes back.

That's it. That's the whole business. There's no team. There's no strategy document. There is a laptop on a kitchen table and a woman who once bought a laminator at 11pm because it felt like a personality trait.

But classic squirrel. Now, back to the business.