Mary’s journey from lukewarm water to soul-fire
How to live your life on your own terms? Let’s be honest—there comes a moment in almost every woman’s life when she stares at her steaming cup of coffee, still in her PJs at 11 am on a Sunday, and whispers into the mug:
“Is this it?”
If you’re laughing, nodding, or choking on your oat milk latte, you’re not alone. That’s the voice of your soul, quietly (or not so quietly) nudging you to live life on your own terms.
Let me introduce you to someone.
Let’s call her Mary.
Mary and the perfectly imperfect life
Mary is 45. She lives in London, has two kids, a stable job in an office (yes, she coordinates stuff with color-coded spreadsheets), and an expat life that looks good on paper. There’s a husband in the background—not abusive, not cheating, just… not there, emotionally speaking. Their conversations sound like a corporate Monday meeting:
“Did you pay the rent?”
“Yes. Did you pick up the kid?”
“Yes. Did you refill the dishwasher salt?”
“Absolutely thrilling conversation, darling.”
Some days, Mary stares at her husband and thinks, I’ve had deeper chats with my GPS.
Now, don’t get me wrong—Mary is brilliant, educated, emotionally intelligent, and can organize the chaos of a warehouse better than most people manage their inbox. But her soul? It’s whispering, sighing, crying softly in the background.
Because while everything looks “fine” from the outside, Mary’s inside feels like she’s running on fumes.
She’s not in love with her job anymore. The passion she once poured into her work—trying so hard to turn the “wrong profession” into something fulfilling—is gone. It served a purpose once, but now it feels like she’s babysitting a career that doesn’t want to grow up.
The quiet burnout nobody sees
Let’s talk about that silent exhaustion. Mary doesn’t sleep well. Her head hurts. Hormones are on their own wild rollercoaster ride. Her body feels like a storage unit for fatigue and sadness. She has visited doctors, therapists, maybe even tried some over-the-counter “miracle” pills that only made her forget her name for a few hours. Nothing helped. Why?
Because nobody is looking at her as a whole person.
Everyone is treating the symptoms, but nobody is treating Mary.
She’s done everything ‘Right’—except this one thing
Mary followed the rules. Got a degree. Got a job. Got married. Had kids. Did everything expected of her. And yet, deep down, she’s miserable. She’s forgotten what it’s like to enjoy life, to feel alive, to laugh until her stomach hurts, to do something purely because it lights her up.
She still has dreams—but they’re buried under guilt, responsibilities, laundry, and a never-ending sense of “but I should be grateful.”
Sound familiar?
The mask, the martyr, and the magical midlife mess
Mary wears a mask. It’s invisible but heavy. It says:
“I’m fine.”
“I can handle it.”
“I don’t need help.”
“I just need to get through this week/month/year/decade.”
But deep inside, Mary is craving freedom.
Not the “run away to Bali and open a smoothie bar” kind (although, tempting…)—but the freedom to be herself.
She wants soul conversations.
She wants to feel seen.
She wants to do something meaningful.
And (shh… don’t tell her inner critic)… she wants to be happy.
The spiritual plot twist: Watching someone else do it
Then one day, Mary stumbles across someone online. Let’s say it’s me, Agnes.
She starts reading blog posts. Watching YouTube videos. Quietly at first, then like she’s binge-watching a spiritual Netflix series. She thinks, This woman gets it. She’s doing what I wish I could do. She’s living from the soul.
At first, it inspires her. Then it terrifies her. Because if someone else can do it… maybe she can too? But what if she fails? What if people laugh? What if her husband says she’s crazy? What if the kids don’t understand?
Ah, the good old what ifs—professional dream-killers.
But something shifts. Not overnight, not in a Hollywood-style epiphany. But slowly, steadily. She starts asking herself:
“What if I DON’T change?”
“What if I keep living this half-life for another 10 years?”
“What if I’m the one who’s been holding me back?”
Living life on your own terms isn’t an Instagram quote
It’s not a catchy mantra you stick on your mirror. It’s a bold, messy, glorious decision to put yourself back in the center of your life.
Mary starts small.
She signs up for a session.
She writes me a message.
She whispers her truth, maybe for the first time.
And guess what? The sky doesn’t fall. The earth doesn’t explode.
In fact, for the first time in ages… she feels seen.
We start working together. We don’t just talk about the job or the marriage or the stress. We go deeper.
We talk about the little girl inside her who never felt safe to express her dreams.
We uncover the layers of guilt, exhaustion, people-pleasing, perfectionism, and fear.
We laugh. We cry. (Okay, mostly her, but sometimes me too.)
And then… one day, her face lights up.
From function to fulfillment
Mary starts making bold moves. No, she doesn’t quit her job immediately or leave her marriage in a dramatic soap-opera style.
But she stops apologizing for wanting more.
She starts painting again. She starts saying no. She starts dancing in the kitchen to Beyoncé when nobody’s watching.
She starts building something just for herself.
And the best part? She doesn’t feel guilty for it anymore.
She lives on her own terms. Not selfishly, not recklessly, but authentically.
Her kids feel the shift. Her body feels the shift. Her soul feels the shift.
She finally remembers who she is.
You, Mary, and the magic of taking the first step
Maybe you’re a Mary.
Or maybe you’re her best friend.
Or maybe you’re her in 5 years if you don’t make a change.
Whatever the case: You deserve to live a life that feels like yours.
Not your parents’. Not society’s. Not the life your 20-year-old self picked because she didn’t know any better.
You deserve joy.
You deserve connection.
You deserve freedom—and not just the kind you see on a yoga retreat poster.
So here’s my very unfiltered advice:
- Stop waiting for the “right time.”
- Stop listening to the voice that says you’re too old/too tired/too broke.
- Stop Googling “what to do when your soul is dead inside” at 2 am. (Yes, I see you.)
Instead, do the thing that Mary did. Reach out. Be brave. Take the first step.
The rest? We’ll figure it out together.
And if you’re thinking, “But what if it doesn’t work?”
My darling, let me ask you this:
What if it does?
