Gut instinct is a thing

For a long time I thought I was waiting for the right moment, more clarity, more money, more confidence, less fear.

I told myself I would begin when things felt settled, when I felt ready, when the path ahead looked clearer than the one behind me.

What I eventually realised is that I was not waiting for readiness, I was waiting for permission.

Permission to change my life. Permission to start again. Permission to choose myself without explaining it to anyone else. And that permission never comes from the outside.

Waiting felt responsible. Waiting can look sensible. It can look mature. It can look like you are being careful. In reality, waiting was keeping me safe from discomfort, even though where I sat was already uncomfortable. It delayed the difficult conversations. It postponed the uncertainty. It kept me in patterns I had outgrown because they were familiar. I wasn’t stuck because I didn’t know what I wanted, I was stuck because I was afraid of what starting would demand of me. I did not feel ready when I started. This part matters.

I did not wake up one morning bursting with confidence. I did not have all the answers. I did not have a financial cushion or a flawless plan. What I had was a quiet, persistent knowing that staying where I was would cost me more than moving forward. My gut was telling me things and I knew I had to act on them.

That knowing became impossible to ignore.

Starting created clarity, not the other way around. I used to believe clarity came first. Now I know clarity is a result of movement. It comes from making decisions, not analysing them endlessly. From showing up, not rehearsing. From trying, adjusting, and trying again. Once I started, things didn’t suddenly become easy, far from it in fact.

But they became real. And real is something you can work with.

Waiting too long dulled my instincts. It disconnected me from my creativity. It made my world feel smaller. Starting, even imperfectly, brought me back into my body and into my life. I felt awake again. Engaged. Present. And that feeling is worth protecting.

Only this week I had an epiphany I did not expect.

I’ve been talking a lot about structure, goals, discipline, and everything I’m building. The routines. The plans. The future version of me. But I realised there was something I hadn’t been completely honest with myself about.

Sex. Desire. Feeling alive in my body. Being wanted. Wanting.

Sex has always been important to me. Not just physically, but energetically. It is connection, confidence, playfulness, chemistry, creativity. It is part of how I experience being alive.

And suddenly it hit me that I am in a very real and very precious window of life. A window where my body still moves how I want it to. Where my knees still bend. Where pleasure still feels natural. Where confidence still lives in my skin.

In the same way someone in their thirties might fear never having children, I realised I fear never having the kind of fun I used to again. Not because it is gone. But because I wasted years accepting what was offered instead of what I actually wanted.

I was guilty of putting up. Of settling. Of shrinking parts of myself to keep the peace.

Starting again was not just about business, or wellness, or changing my lifestyle. It was about reclaiming myself. All of myself. And yes, I have entered my cougar era. Not in the way people joke about, but in the way that means I am no longer apologising for wanting to feel alive, desired, powerful, playful, connected, or turned on by my own life. Men my age are putting their backs out just farting in the shower, and their moods are reminiscent of Victor Meldrew on crack, well, I've found me a solution that has been floating my preverbial boat let me tell you. (more another time if I think its appropriate)

This too was part of why staying where I was became impossible. Because waiting was not just costing me time. It was costing me experiences.

This is important.

Starting anyway does not mean burning everything down or ignoring reality.

It means making one honest decision.

Taking one step at a time.

Committing to learning as you go.

If you are reading this in your fifties or beyond, you may feel the weight of expectation more heavily. You might think you should be more settled by now, more certain, more secure. What I have learned is that starting later is not a weakness, it is a strength.

I started because the cost of not starting became too high. At some point the discomfort outweighs the fear of change. This is where I found myself.

Starting anyway was not about bravery. It was about honesty. About what I could no longer tolerate. About the life I was quietly longing to live.

If you are still waiting, this is not a push. It is an invitation.

An invitation to go for what you want in life. To stop imagining you need everything mapped out. To follow your heart and listen to your gut.

You do not need to be fearless. You just need to begin. And the version of you who is waiting will thank the version of you who starts.

Same person.

New chapter. x