My life had become Groundhog Day.

I was lying in bed in the house I’d just bought with my husband. The sun was peeping through the curtains and I’d been woken by my alarm. I lay there, thinking about going for a run. Telling myself I didn’t have to. Knowing that I would.

My life is like Groundhog Day, I thought. I don’t know where it came from as my home-life was happy and my work/life was quite good. I had a full-time job as a copywriter, writing about films. It was easy. Creative. I got paid what felt like loads of money.

But perhaps it was the rigid structure of my days. Wake with the alarm, tug myself out of bed, leaving my husband sleeping, drink a coffee, go for a three-mile run, home to shower and get dressed and head to the Underground, for the commute.

I hated the commute. I was at the end of the line, so I always got a seat, but it would get packed and hot. I’d arrive, go for a coffee and a croissant and write some poetry. Then, into the office. A tech company. Hundreds of us. No natural light.

No natural light.

Meetings about nothing.

Stinking lunches being cooked up in the tiny windowless kitchen near my desk.

People talking about going to the local food market for lunch but not wanting to go with them, because I couldn’t be bothered with the small talk. I had one friend, but she wanted to go with the group so often, I spent my lunchtimes walking alone.

At the end of the day, the train would be busy. There were no seats. I’d hold onto the clammy metal rail and rock around as the train rumbled through tunnels. I’d get home, make dinner, eat, watch telly, go to bed. Wake up, run, commute.

Groundhog Day.

Losing that job when I was about to give birth to my first baby was shit, and good. I didn’t have to work out whether I wanted to return, after maternity leave. I couldn’t. Now, I’d design a different career, from home. One that didn’t feel so repetitive.

And that’s what I did, over the next 12 years, which leads me to now. I write poetry that I share on Instagram. I’ve self-published collections and I’m waiting to hear back from a commissioning editor at a publishing house to see if I’m getting a book deal.

I run a writers’ membership, The Creative Way Collective, which is where I teach writing, mentor and get to connect with other writers, online. There are co-writing sessions each week for accountability and pre-recorded writing workshops.

And then there’s We Hyperfocus. This platform. That is still evolving. What I want to use this platform for is to help neurodivergent creatives to make stuff happen. Like a productivity platform. Only, everyone hates that term. So, I’m thinking of other words.

Confidence is a big part of ‘productivity’. Having the confidence to make a change. Having the confidence to believe you can try. Having the confidence to deal with failure and rejection (of which there is always quite a lot, on the way to success).

And then, there is energy. Knowing how to hyperfocus when energy is high and rest when it’s low. How to seek inspiration, get the dopamine hit and also stop. How to crack into your creativity. How to trust your ideas and run with them.

Lastly, there is understanding that you don’t have to do it how everyone else is doing it. You don’t have to be consistent. You don’t have to do public speaking or social media platforms that make you feel uncomfortable. You can do it your way.

The career I’ve set up means I get to write poetry every day from a studio at the end of my garden, or - more likely - while out walking. I can wake when I like (except on my children’s school days, and then I wake naturally without an alarm because I’m relaxed.)

I have a structure to my weeks, through the writers’ membership, and I can add in new courses to We Hyperfocus when I need ‘newness’ and have loads of energy to funnel into something. I’ve recently joined TikTok and YouTube, sharing my poetry.

I can choose which work I’d like to do each day. Write essays for Substack when new ideas land. Shift my focus from one part of the business to another. There is variety, creativity at the heart of it all, connection with other creatives and lots of time alone.

Life isn’t always simple. Sometimes my children are struggling with school and that takes over. Sometimes I’m needed by family. But, I make time to work, around it all, because I love my work. It makes me feel whole and full, alongside everything else.

If you’d like to re-think your work-life, perhaps you’re having your own Groundhog Day - or maybe you’ve taken time out of work and would like to now try something different - I’m running a creative coaching course that will help you to dream and plan.

It’s called What do I want to do with my work/life? and we start on Monday 7th September. As it’s part of the re-launch of We Hyperfocus, I’ve priced it low. An introductory course, if you like. It’s just £30 and includes email coaching with me.

It will meet you where you’re at, unlock your inner dreams - that have been tucked away - help you design the ideal work/life and make a plan. You can read more and sign up here: wehyperfocus.com/product/what-do-i-want-to-do-with-my-work-life/.

Annie x