A role you're wondering whether to go for.

A restructure heading your way.

A decision about the promotion, the sideways move, or whether it's finally time to leave.

Not every moment like this needs a year of coaching.

Some need focused help, right now.

So I'm creating a new short, sharp series of three one-hour sessions, built around one big decision or change.

We start with what you actually want, and whether this move is the right one.

Then how to make it happen.

And if it comes to an interview, you walk into it ready.

It can stretch across three months.

Or, when a deadline's looming, run over as little as two weeks.

Newsletter subscribers will hear the details first, before they appear anywhere else.

A few weeks ago, a client told me she was at her wits' end.

Delivering faster all the time, even when it was taking too much from her.

She was simply proving her worth the way she always had: by doing more of everything, all the time.

I wrote her story up.

I knew my clients would identify with it. And, if I'm bragging ;) I was rather pleased with it.

Then I looked at my own week. Ouch.

For many months now, every week without fail, I've been writing a new story.

Turning it into a blog. Then a newsletter.

Then a string of LinkedIn posts, each with its own image, its own links, its own tweaks.

Week in, week out.

Amazingly, readership actually improved!

And, like my client, nobody was technically making me.

Somewhere along the way, I'd decided that showing up every single week was proof I took this seriously.

That if I slowed down, you'd forget I was here.

Or worse, assume I'd run out of things to say, or that it was no longer relevant.

Recognise the fear?

It's exactly the pattern I help senior women in STEM to see in themselves.

Hours as evidence. Volume as value.

A close cousin of letting your work speak for itself, and just as unreliable.

I'd simply never turned the lens on myself quite so squarely.

It's remarkably easy to spot in someone else. Far harder in the mirror.

Maybe you know the drill?

So I'm taking my own advice.

From now on, my newsletter will arrive every other Tuesday, rather than every week.

Just like it used to.

Fewer stories.

But ones I've had time to sit with, sharpen, and get right.

There's a practical reason too.

Over the next year, my husband and I are selling our home, moving, and completely redesigning the new one.

One we'll be able to grow old within. 3 floors just no longer cuts it.

Anyone who has done even one of those tasks knows they are not small projects.

And all with my Multiple Sclerosis, for which I should be "avoiding stress". As if.

Doing all three while writing weekly would mean you getting less than my best.

And I value you too much for that.

The stories will still be real, drawn from the women I work with, and always heavily anonymised.

I'll still be writing for the same woman I've written for over twenty years: senior, capable, navigating rooms that weren't built with her in mind.

And if you hit reply, I'll still read and answer every one.

I often tell clients that permission rarely arrives from the person they think they're waiting for.

It usually has to come from them.

This is me giving it to myself.

If there's something you've been doing at full throttle simply because you always have, it might be worth asking whether it still needs to be done that way.

Or at all.

If you're facing a big decision or change and would rather not wait for the details, I'd love to talk.

Email me at suzanne@doylemorris.com to arrange a chemistry call.

If this resonated, I write about moments like this every other week, the ones senior women in STEM recognise immediately and hadn't quite named yet.

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