I spent 5.5 years building a business so I could finally have freedom.
Freedom over my time.
Freedom over my income.
Freedom over how I lived my life.
And when I finally got it…
I felt guilty for enjoying it.
Guilty for decorating my house.
Guilty for planting flowers in my garden.
Guilty for taking naps.
Guilty for drinking coffee slowly in bed on a Tuesday morning.
Guilty for not sitting behind a laptop desperately trying to “be productive”.
Which is honestly insane when you think about it.
Because wasn’t this the exact life I had spent years trying to create?
At the beginning of this year, my plan was simple.
My previous business sale was meant to go through and I was meant to launch my new business, Minds & Millions, straight away.
One chapter closing. Another beginning.
Instead, nothing seemed to be going to plan.
The sale was delayed.
The new website wasn’t ready.
Everything felt heavy, uncertain and emotionally exhausting.
Behind the scenes, I was having full blown meltdowns. Begging God to explain why the things I wanted so badly just weren’t happening. Panicking that I was missing my January “New Year, New You” moment!
Eventually, at the end of March, the business sale finally went through. Then in April, the new website launched too.
And suddenly… I was free.
Free to decide what my days looked like.
Free to choose how I spent my time.
Free to rest if I wanted to.
Free to work if I wanted to.
And weirdly, all I wanted to do was decorate my house, plant things in my garden, spend time with my family and take afternoon naps.
Even more annoyingly for my “work guilt”, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place to allow me to do exactly that.
The builder had last-minute availability.
The plumber and electrician could suddenly fit me in.
The weather was beautiful the exact day I wanted to plant in the garden.
Life itself seemed to be saying:
“Here. Enjoy this. You earned it.”
And yet instead of fully allowing myself to rest, I spent six weeks stuck in this strange middle ground where I was technically “working” but not really doing much at all.
I’d sit behind my laptop scrolling aimlessly, answering the odd email, moving things around on my to-do list, trying to force myself into productivity simply because I believed that was what I should be doing.
Because the truth is, I hadn’t realised how deeply conditioned I still was.
Conditioned to believe:
- Work happens between 9 and 5
- Work happens Monday to Friday
- Rest has to be approved through annual leave
- If you’re not visibly working, you’re lazy
- If you’re not making money, you’re failing
And logically, I know none of those things are true.
But retraining your nervous system and identity to actually believe that? That’s something completely different.
Interestingly, around the same time all of this was unfolding, I kept thinking about my friend Bridget.
On paper, Bridget and I could not be more different.
She loves a stable 9-5 job. I’m a serial entrepreneur.
She is factual. I lean heavily on intuition and spiritual practices.
She gives hugs to those she loves. I’d happily hug a stranger.
She’s a deep thinker. I’m deeply emotional.
Last year, Bridget lost her job after nearly a decade at the same company.
And where most people would have gone into complete panic mode, Bridget just… didn’t.
She fought for a fair redundancy package, accepted the situation for what it was and then decided to take six months off to enjoy the summer with her children.
Every time we saw her, someone would ask:
“So… how’s the job hunt going?”
And Bridget would casually reply:
“It’s not.”
That would be that.
Honestly? Behind closed doors, I worried about her.
I convinced myself she must secretly be applying for jobs and just not telling us. Surely nobody could be that calm after losing their income?
But no. She genuinely wasn’t worrying.
Instead, Bridget gave herself six months of freedom.
Six months of no pressure.
No performance.
No panic.
No proving.
She spent time with her kids.
Started going to the gym every day.
Got incredibly fit and healthy.
Saw friends.
Drank rosé in the sunshine.
Ate ice creams.
Laughed more.
Rested more.
Went on a dream holiday to Australia.
She just lived.
And then in January, when she finally decided she was ready to work again, she found a new job within two weeks.
And honestly? Watching Bridget changed something in me.
Because whether she’d describe it this way or not, that was alignment.
No forcing.
No spiralling.
No attaching her self-worth to productivity.
Just trust.
Trust that life wasn’t over because one chapter ended.
Trust that opportunities would come again.
Trust that rest wasn’t laziness.
And then I looked at myself.
I had spent 5.5 years trying to build the exact freedom Bridget gave herself instantly.
The ability to wake up every morning and decide:
“How do I actually want to spend today?”
And yet the moment I finally got there, I could barely let myself enjoy it.
Not because I didn’t want rest.
But because I had been conditioned to believe that if I wasn’t producing, achieving, selling or building something… I was failing.
The irony is almost embarrassing.
I teach people to reverse engineer businesses that support the life they actually want to live.
And there I was, not fully allowing myself to live mine.
I thought I was doing well because I was picking my kids up from school at 3pm. Taking weekends off. Doing personal errands during the week.
But all of it was laced with guilt.
Guilt for not working harder.
Fear that if I stopped pushing for sales, clients or growth, everything would collapse.
Fear that rest meant failure.
Fear that slowing down meant falling behind.
And then I realised something else.
The first question almost everyone asked me after I sold my business was:
“So… what are you going to do now for work?”
Isn’t that interesting?
Nobody asked:
“How are you going to enjoy your freedom?”
Because somewhere along the way, we collectively decided that life is supposed to look like this:
School.
University.
Work.
Retirement.
Death.
And somewhere in the middle, maybe squeeze in a holiday if HR approves it.
Honestly? I call BS on that.
People keep talking about the “great millennial career crisis”.
But I don’t actually think it’s a crisis.
I think it’s an awakening.
And not just for millennials either.
I think younger generations saw through this conditioning years ago and we labelled them lazy because of it.
Because God forbid someone works their contracted hours, earns their agreed salary and then spends the rest of their time actually enjoying their life.
I feel ashamed of the old version of me that used to think that way too.
The version of me that equated exhaustion with ambition.
Busyness with importance.
Burnout with success.
Because now I can see it so clearly:
A lot of us aren’t actually chasing success anymore.
We’re chasing permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to slow down.
Permission to enjoy our lives without guilt.
Permission to stop proving our worth through productivity.
And maybe true freedom isn’t just financial.
Maybe true freedom is waking up on a random Wednesday morning and genuinely believing your life belongs to you.
I’m still learning this.
Still catching myself opening my laptop out of guilt instead of intention.
Still fighting the urge to panic when things feel slow.
Still retraining my brain and body to believe that rest is productive too.
But every day now, I’m trying to ask myself one simple question:
“If guilt didn’t exist, what would I choose today?”
And maybe that’s my challenge to you too.
What’s one thing you could do today that quietly rebels against the version of life you were told you had to live?
Not recklessly.
Not irresponsibly.
Just intentionally.
Maybe it’s taking a proper lunch break.
Maybe it’s going for a walk without tracking your steps.
Maybe it’s reading a book in the middle of the afternoon.
Maybe it’s applying for the job.
Maybe it’s quitting it.
Maybe it’s starting the business.
Maybe it’s resting before your body forces you to.
Whatever it is, maybe that’s where freedom actually begins.
Not when you finally “make it”.
Not when you hit a certain income.
Not when society tells you you’ve earned it.
But the moment you decide your life is yours to live.
Jane Gillespie – Founder, Minds & Millions
