The Shewbridge Coaching Story

I posted earlier about the struggles I had a year ago, and included a link to the interview in which the wonderful Norah Ginty asked me about those struggles and how I overcame them to become the happy, loving entrepreneur I am now.

The post itself was more about the struggles, so now I want to talk about the time that followed. The moment when, unencumbered by the embrace of addiction, I started to build something that I’m proud of.

When I stopped drinking, I knew I would never do it again. I didn’t need to make that promise to myself, I just knew. It wasn’t hope or courage that told me this; I just had a very clear sense that I had had my last drink. I didn’t even find it that interesting, I just had a sense of, ‘right, what’s next? Let’s get this business built.’

I deliberately kept my plans as quiet as I reasonably could. Everyone knew I was trying to build a business but they’d also heard my promises before so I didn’t divulge many details. As someone who knows all about the power of language, I also know its limitations. When you’ve said the same thing again and again, it doesn’t matter how well you articulate it; the spell is as broken as the promises. This was the time for action, not words.

I had been interview coaching for a while, but hadn’t really committed to turning it into a fully-fledged enterprise. It was something I was good at and enjoyed but couldn’t see the future very clearly. Addicts don’t tend to think about the future very much.

As soon as the fog cleared, and I mean within a couple of days, I started making serious plans. ‘Serious’ as in ‘properly thought through’ and ‘plans’ as in ‘not flights of fancy’. I’d expected to have more focus and drive but it surprised me quite how true that was. I should remind you that I had just had a mental breakdown and was still quite anxious. What’s really interesting, and what I’d never read or heard before, was how an addiction can change you for the better. As I saw this, the anxiety gradually melted away. I’m sorry if this idea is controversial, and I am absolutely not advocating addiction as a route to changing for the better; there are far easier and much less risky ways to achieve the same result.

If you’re what is known as a functional alcoholic, you’re kind of on a long but intense training course on How To Be Effortlessly Awesome - as long as you finish the course and apply the skills afterwards. Roman soldiers used to train with weapons that weighed twice as much as the real thing. That’s how they learnt to fight so adeptly. It was the same with me. Pretty much every day of my adult life was a day of struggle, and yet I always turned up to work and put the hours in. Imagine that: learning everything in adulthood while exhausted and in pain, and then using those skills with a smile. Take the pain and exhaustion away and, my god, do you rock.

The last year has seen me turning up and excited, smiling for real and generally just getting shit done. Getting shit done quickly and well. The business has a long way to go, but instead of hoping it will work out, I know how it will work out; I’ve planned it and it’s all pretty inevitable. That doesn’t mean there haven’t been, and won’t continue to be, setbacks, because there have and will be. It’s just that setbacks become things you just have to overcome. They don’t ruin your plans, they just change them a bit. You become so used to being capable that you just know you’ll solve pretty much anything that the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune might throw your way.

If all of this sounds self-congratualory, it isn’t meant to be. I started this story because I wanted to show the positive side of coming out from your hiding place because, honestly, it’s pretty much all positive side. The whole point is that I’m not special. I set out to write this because I want to convey the message that, whatever you’re using to hide — be it substances, a crappy job, a bad personal relationship — you mustn’t gauge your ability to deal with it on how you feel now; your weapons are twice as heavy as they will be on the other side.

I’m going to end the story here because this is where I am today. The highs feel so high, and the lows feel fine. By reading this you become part of my story, and I hope I become part of yours too. Let me know your thoughts, feelings, hopes and fears in the comments.

Love,

Matt