There have been so many seasons in my life where I felt stuck. Not in a mild way, but in that heavy, bone-tired, foggy way where you’re just trying to keep all the balls in the air to just get through each week.
For a long time, I was stuck in what I now call the “prolonged holding pattern.” It looked functional on the outside – I had established a beautiful family with two very cute little sons, I was climbing the HR career ladder, and managing (madly juggling) a household with school-aged kids. But internally? It was not great.
First, the relationship. I had fallen out of love. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but I knew it. It had reached its end. But I stayed. For years. Trying to breathe life back into it. Because I was scared. Actually, I was petrified. To break up a family, to fracture the psyche of my beautiful precious sons, to leap into the unknown.
It took years to find the courage to acknowledge all of this to myself, then to actually say it out loud “This isn’t working.”
Underneath the deafening fear, when I could manage to slow down and listen – really listen – there was another voice. A whisper. A quiet knowing. Saying:
“This isn’t it.”
“There’s more.”
“You’re allowed to want something better.”
“You’re allowed to want to feel alive again.”
The thing about that internal whisper, the one that says, “This isn’t it” – is that it never goes away. You can drown it out with work, exercise, wine, perfectionism, people-pleasing – I’ve tried them all – but eventually it always finds you.
It took so much f**cking courage to pay attention to that whisper – and act on it. With hand on heart, I can tell you it was both the scariest and most courageous thing I’ve ever done.
It can feel like an act of radical defiance to choose yourself. Especially if you were raised to be the responsible one, the bedrock of the family home, the caring one. Especially if everyone relies on you.
For women, it can be laced with guilt. If you were raised watching women sacrifice themselves, it can feel dangerous to take up space. To want more. To say: “This isn’t enough for me.”
For men, the same – just in different words: “I can’t let people down.” “I’ve got to hold it together, they depend on me.” “It’s not about me.”
But what if you’re holding everything together, and deep down you know, it’s still not working? What does one do then? Yeah, I know – that shit is scary. You gotta face it.
The Sunk Cost Fallacy: My Familiar Friend
Years later, feeling completely stuck again, a similar thing was playing out, only this time in my career.
If you’re not familiar with it, the sunk cost fallacy is this idea that we stay in things – jobs, relationships, careers – because we’ve already invested so much time, energy, money, effort into them. And we don’t want all of that to feel like a waste. So instead of cutting our losses and walking away, we double down. We stay. We convince ourselves we just need to try harder. That quitting would mean failing.
It’s such a trap. And I’ve fallen into it more than once.
My HR career was “successful” by every external marker. Senior roles, good money, great organisations. But inside, towards the end? I was cooked. Tired. Cynical. Eventually, burnt out.
But this time the fear had another flavour – the sunk cost fallacy had its grip on me.
“You’ve worked so hard to get here.”
“You’ve built a reputation.”
“You’ve got two degrees and 15+ years of experience – this is what you do.”
“How could you throw that away?”
I didn’t want to lose everything I’d “built.” So for a while, I kept building on top of something I didn’t even want anymore.
Eventually, at a great cost to myself, I had no choice other than to confront the reality:
It doesn’t matter how much you’ve invested in the wrong thing – it’s still the wrong thing.
Fear: My Even-More-Familiar-Old-Friend
Eventually, I had to admit it: the HR career wasn’t working. Just like I’d had to admit the relationship that wasn’t working many years prior. And in both cases, it took everything I had to face the truth, to acknowledge it to myself first, and then take action. The kind of action that puts crippling fear front and centre.
Because there’s always that voice saying,
“What if I can’t make it work?”
“What if I leap and regret it?”
“What if I fail?”
But over the years, I’ve learned a thing or two about fear. It rarely shows up looking like fear. It shows up dressed as logic. Dressed as “being responsible.” It whispers that you should be grateful. That it’s selfish to want more. That you’re too old to pivot. That this is as good as it gets. It tells you to stay small. Stay in your lane. Stay where it’s safe. Stay where the culture says you “should” be.
The Best Antidote to Fear is Action
Fear rattles our confidence. It convinces us we’re not capable of taking the step that deep down we know is required – even after we’ve admitted to ourselves that, yep… we’ve got a problem, Houston.
So many coaching clients come to me right at this point.
They’ve already had that moment of truth, the “this isn’t working” moment. They’ve admitted it to themselves. They know they want something more. They need to make a change. But they’re oscillating between fear and the deep lack of confidence they feel in their ability to actually do the thing.
They’ll say, “I know what I need to do… I’m just not sure I’ve got it in me.”
Or, “I’ve been thinking about this for years – but I keep hesitating.”
Or, “What if I fail? What if it’s worse? What if I make the leap and regret it?”
It’s like one foot is on the brake and one foot’s on the accelerator.
They’re revving hard, but going nowhere.
This is the stuck zone. Not because they don’t know what they want. But because fear has hijacked the wheel, and confidence hasn’t had the chance to catch up yet.
If there’s anything I’ve learnt in life, it’s this: Confidence doesn’t just appear. You build it by doing. By taking the first step. And the next. And the next.
Confidence is something you earn, you accrue. It’s built by leaping, not by sitting around waiting to “feel ready.”
One action at a time. One decision. One leap. And then the next, and the next. The more action you take, the more confident you become – in any direction. That’s how it works.
And we’re complex creatures. We’re constantly making up stories to protect ourselves. From pain, from failure, from rejection, from discomfort. I catch myself doing it all the time.
But the thing about these stories is – once you see them, you can’t unsee them.
And once you see the story you’ve been telling yourself to keep yourself small? You’re kind of obliged to do something about it (or you just keep sitting in the dissonance a little longer). That’s the shitty uncomfortable part again.
My Latest Fear-Fable
Recently (staring down the barrel of 50) I caught myself in a new story. I thought I’d already rewritten all the big ones: leaving the long-term relationship, getting on top of my finances, walking away from the HR career, healing the burnout, reshaping my relationship with alcohol. I thought there was no stone left un-turned (*that’s not true, this is a lifelong journey of overcoming).
But this one crept in quietly.
It went something like:
“Be careful.”
“You can’t do what you used to do.”
“You’re nearly 50 now.”
“Your body isn’t reliable like it was.”
“You need to be cautious. Place limits.”
And to be fair – it started from a place of truth.
I’d had a severe back injury in 2021, knee surgery in 2022 and full-blown adrenal and cortisol dysregulation – aka burnout – building through all of that. My body had been through hell. And it was partly my own doing – I can acknowledge that now. Overworking. Overtraining. Stress-loading like a lunatic. Using physical intensity as a coping mechanism. Ignoring every signal my body was sending me.
But while the fear-fable initially served a purpose – slowing me down, waking me up and making me listen, leading me deep into yoga, meditation, more introspective and conscious living – it had overstayed its welcome.
It was no longer healthy fear protecting me. It was habitual fear limiting me. And rattling my confidence.
Taking the Wheel Back, Again.
For me, the moment that finally shook me awake again came during a snowboarding trip to Switzerland in January 2025 with my two teenage boys – something so aligned with my values, that I’d saved for and dreamed about for years. I’d promised myself I’d take them and blow their little minds in the European alps just once before they grew up and flew the nest (and could finally pay for their own bloody travel). I love snowboarding, so this part should’ve been all joy.
But what it became – for me – was an internal battleground. Every single day, I heard it:
“Be careful.”
“Don’t go down that run.”
“Your body’s not what it used to be.”
“You can’t afford to get injured.”
“You’re not the same woman who used to charge down these mountains.”
The fear-fable was so loud in my ears. And it privately ruined many moments for me. I could feel it dulling the whole experience, and worse, I could feel myself believing it. That voice wasn’t coming from my body. It was coming from my mind. From a story I’d let sneak in without checking its credentials.
And so that was the turning point. Switzerland was the catalyst. That frustration of watching myself hesitate, sit back, opt out – it triggered something in me.
So I started calling myself out on my own BS.
It was time to rewrite the story. Again.
Time to stop playing small.
Time to rebuild trust in my body.
Time to get strong – not just physically, but in mindset, in energy, in confidence.
After Switzerland it took me another four months of hit and miss before I decided to bite the bullet and start working with an online Personal Trainer and Coach, Scott Dillon. From our very first session, he gently held up a mirror and showed me the limits I was placing on myself. He helped me see how I was capping my own potential.
That’s what good coaches do. They reflect you back to yourself. And they then hold you accountable to your higher self – the one you know is there, waiting.
When he asked me, “What’s the goal for turning 50?”, I said:
“I want to feel strong. Grounded. Vital. Glowing. As healthy as a 50-year-old woman can possibly feel.”
And then I threw in, almost as an afterthought:
“Maybe I’ll climb Mt Rinjani.”
3726m. A big, bold challenge. Something that felt edgy from the place I was standing.
And slowly, through taking consistent action, I started building confidence in my body again. Not just physically – but in my ability to listen. To adjust. To recover. To respect it and push it, in equal measure. A new trust and performance intelligence was evolving.
Now, as it happens, this Scott character I’d signed up with is a former mountaineer. And over time, as we trained and talked, he planted subtle seeds. Stories of Nepal. Adventures in the Himalayas. Something I’d always dreamed I’d do one day.
Feeling more confident now that I was actually taking action – moving forward again, day by day, rebuilding strength, getting my rhythm back – I started doing what any sane person would do…
I Started Googling the f**king Himalayas.
Like, obsessively.
“Could I?”
“Am I crazy?”
“Is that ship sailed?”
I wasn’t telling anyone yet – just quietly researching, watching videos, reading blogs, going down YouTube rabbit holes. I didn’t even know what I was looking for… but I knew something was stirring.
Because that’s how it starts, right?
You take one brave action, then another, then another – and suddenly the confident voice starts to get louder:
“What else is possible for me now?”
And just like that, I found myself booking a 21-day expedition in April 2026 to summit Lobuche East, 6119m. Near Everest. With crampons, ice axe, the whole kit and kaboodle.
In the space of three months – three months of (finally) taking consistent, affirmative action – I’d up-levelled my original 50th birthday challenge by approximately 2392 vertical metres.
Yep. Mt Rinjani (3726m) – which had felt like a huge, bold physical goal – was now going to be my warm-up climb. I’m locked in to summit it first in October 2025, as a stepping stone. And again, just after I return from Nepal – this time with good friends, for my actual 50th, as a celebration.
A marker of how far I’ve come.
And a funeral – for yet another shitty fear-fable I’ve buried.
Why This Matters
I know this has been a long parable. But I want you to know this:
I get it. I see you.
I know what it’s like to be stuck.
To be exhausted.
To be scared to back yourself.
To tell yourself stories that keep you safe, but small.
To feel like you’ve lost your spark.
To want something more, but not even know where to start.
I’ve lived that, in different forms, many times. And each time – I’ve had to rewrite the story.
And here’s the secret sauce:
Nearly every time I’ve done it, I’ve worked with a great coach.
When I got my finances in order? I worked with total legends and financial coaches Terry and Ryan at Cashflow Co.
When I left my HR career? Between 2021 and 2024 I worked with two supportive and inspiring coaches, first executive coach Gill Skeer, then later Sarah Rusbatch.
When I changed my relationship with alcohol in 2022? I worked with the wonderful coach Danni Carr.
And now – rebuilding my physical confidence? I’m working with PT and coach Scott Dillon.
And I’m still doing the work in other ways too.
Right now, I’m also working with a coach in my business – the brilliant Jo Parker – as I find and refine my voice in this next chapter. I’m navigating all the usual fear and imposter syndrome that shows up when you decide to step up and build something bold – in my case, expanding my speaker offering. Jo’s helping me own it, shape it, and articulate it from a place that’s grounded, authentic, and in service.
Because even now, even after all the chapters I’ve already rewritten, I still occasionally need support to stretch into the next version of myself. The next story.
That’s not weakness. That’s how growth works.
I don’t always get it right. I didn’t always ask for help soon enough. But as I’ve gotten wiser in life, each time I’ve hit a major confidence wobble or a “stuck point,” I’ve backed myself by investing in support. That’s been one of the keys to help me keep moving forward, despite the fear.
And that’s why I do what I do now. As a coach.
Because I know the power of it – not from textbooks, but from lived experience.
I’ve felt the fear. Sat in the stuckness. Rewritten the stories.
And now, I get to witness this same shift play out in each of my clients, as they take the actions (big or small) to grow into the next version of their higher selves.
The version they’ve been quietly craving. The version they already are – but just need a little support and accountability to uncover it.
So If You’re Stuck…
If you’re floundering – in your career, your health, your business, your role, your relationship, your body – I SEE YOU.
You don’t have to do it alone.
You’re allowed to want more.
You’re allowed to stop surviving and start rebuilding.
And if you need someone to hold the mirror up and help you back yourself again, I’m here.
We don’t become confident and courageous and clear by thinking our way there.
We get there by taking action. The first step. Then the next. And the next.
Everything you want is on the other side of action. The only way out is through.
That’s how the story gets rewritten.
LFG.
Rach Taylor is a high-performance, life and career coach, speaker, advisor, Olympic medallist, and former senior HR leader. She supports high-functioning humans ready to take the leap (despite the confidence wobbles and the fear) and build for what’s next. Rach brings Olympic-level discipline, real-world HR, life and leadership experience, a geeky obsession with human optimisation, and a no-BS, heart-led approach to every space she works in. Keen to hook up? Book a virtual coffee with Rach.
