I stepped back from finance on March 1st, and I still feel like a naughty schoolboy who's bunked off. The guilt is real, but underneath it I'm starting to notice something: the activities filling my days aren't replacements for work — they're vessels. Golf isn't golf. It's being alive outdoors with someone I care about. A talk isn't a talk. It's finding people on the same wavelength and exploring something together. I'm learning to see what's actually in the vessel, not just the label on it.
When the guilt surfaces — the naughty schoolboy feeling — pause and ask: what's actually in this vessel? Not "I played golf" but "I spent three hours outdoors with a friend, fully alive." Start a quiet practice of translating activities into what they actually are. Not for anyone else. Just to remind yourself that this life isn't empty — it's differently full. And hold on to the question someone gave you: what could go even better?
HRV low, sleep poor, tension I can't quite name. When I actually asked the body what it was carrying, three things surfaced immediately: the bike ride and a quiet fear about mortality and ageing, the money shift from full salary to 30%, and something unresolved with Jake. My mind says I'm fine. My body disagrees. The body is more honest.
The body flagged three things. Don't override them. For the bike ride: train, yes, but also sit with what the fear of not being fit enough is really about. For the money: let the number be real without catastrophising — notice when "30%" becomes a story about worth rather than a fact about cash flow. For Jake: see below.
Ruby and I have something effortless — morning hugs, real conversations, natural intimacy. With Jake, I feel gratitude and respect, but the connection stays intellectual. Geopolitics. Career strategy. It's like being a good stepfather rather than his dad. I don't know how to reach him, and I suspect he doesn't know how to reach me either. We're both standing on opposite sides of the same distance.
The temptation will be to engineer closeness — plan something, force a deeper conversation, perform intimacy. Resist that. Instead, pay attention to the moments when connection does happen naturally, even briefly. What were the conditions? What was different? Ruby didn't become close through strategy. She became close through presence.
For years, being Jake's dad looked like being a successful businessman — someone who could advise, fund, open doors. Now that identity is dissolving, and I don't have a replacement. The reframe that landed: this isn't about helping Jake. It's about wanting to love him well. That's a different question entirely, and it doesn't require a role.
How do I want to love Jake? — not how do I help him or what's my role now. Sit with the wanting. You don't need to know how yet. And remember: Jake is navigating this too. He's lost the version of you he knew how to relate to. You're both learning. That's not failure. That's the beginning.
I know I can help people — reflect back what they can't see, hold context, listen in a way that changes something. It's already happening with Steph, with Ruby, with younger colleagues, even on the golf course. But I'm scared of needing it. Scared of the feeling becoming a dependency rather than something I offer freely. So for now I want to let it unfold without grasping at it.
You said you want to let it unfold a while longer, and that instinct is sound. The gift isn't going anywhere. Keep showing up in the conversations that are already happening — with Steph, with the younger colleagues, at 38 Degrees. If Substack comes, it'll come. The only thing to watch for: if "letting it play out" becomes a way of hiding from it.
Conscious decisions aren't analytical — they're somatic. The body feels it and that becomes the knowledge. And what is knowledge without action? A failure of love. I said that, and I meant it. Knowing what matters and not acting on it isn't wisdom. It's cowardice dressed up as patience.
You said it yourself: to know obligates us. This isn't a general principle. It's a personal one. Where are you knowing something right now and not acting? Let that question sit. You'll feel the answer before you think it.
What is knowledge without action? A failure of love.