“I noticed it was your birthday,” my cleaner said. “Did you do something nice?”
This is why I appreciate Syliva. She takes the time to see something about me and my life when she’s in my home. Cobwebs are not her forte but her knowing me, noticing when a new piece of art is on the easel or cutting back on the small talk when she can see I’m having one of those mornings, having the tact not to mention the condolence cards mixed in with the birthday ones, is why I want her as my cleaner and why I recommend her to others.
She notices.
At this stage in my life, I choose my mentors like I choose my cleaners.
Business owners fall into two camps.
‘Shall I work with a mentor?’ and
‘Which mentor should I work with next?’
I am in the second camp.
I always have a coach/mentor/teacher/guide in my life. Or three or four.
I love to learn. Because I get obsessed with many different things, I can’t be taking four years to study something slowly and thoroughly; I’d be over it by the end of term two. I’m also always starting from scratch so need a teacher to shortcut me to an acceptable level of mastery - one who knows what I don’t know I don’t know.
(Underlying that, a lifetime of expertise and mastery in business, mentoring, marketing, holding space for other women etc has seeped into my bones; in these areas I am far from a beginner).
I digress.
As I’ve grown older, I find immense value in smaller groups over large faceless online programs. I’m in both at the moment.
I’m in three smaller groups - no more than nine others at most. The woman running each program knows my name. She knows what I do for my work and the season of my life that I am in. She knows what’s going on with my kids and that I worry that I’m fat right now. She knows my dad just died. She knows my hopes and dreams. And because of that she has context when she is guiding me. She knows when the decisions I am making are scarred with grief and contraction so stops me in my tracks when I’m about to do some crazy shit. She knows when I’m hyped up and going too fast. She sees my patterns. She sees my brilliance. And my weaknesses. And in a culture of faceless reels and AI advice, I feel seen by these women.
In in one larger group right now. There are hundreds of us. The person running this group has an inkling of some of the above (because I have worked with them intimately before) but does not know about my dad, my current fears and mental obstacles. They do not ask ‘Nic, why are you not contributing to the group, or turning your camera on, or doing the homework? Why are you just listening and not acting - what’s up, this is not like you?’ Of course they don’t. There are hundreds of us. Intimacy was never on the sales page.
Pre-menopause, I loved the large groups. I could put my hand up, be seen by many, camera always on, doing the homework just so I could say ‘Look at me, I did the homework’ - desperate for the validation. Being the golden girl. Trying to get my dad to approve of me through sideways means.
Post-menopause, I want only the small groups. The places that mean I can come as I am. I have cried in every one of those small groups over the past month and been held by everyone there. (Well, love-hearted on zoom, which is as close as we can get.) Thanked for my honesty; for opening up conversations that would not otherwise have been had.
Yes, my body says, intimacy and human connection are what is required right now.