I recently saw a viral video on Instagram that showed Matt LeBlanc talking about taking a year off work after Friends ended. He spoke candidly about doing nothing for 12 months with plans to return to work afterwards – but he ended up loving the time off so much, he decided to do nothing for another year. He then extended this sabbatical for a further three years after that.
I watched with more than a smidge of envy. I’ve always struggled to switch off, so this idea of slowing down to the point of stopping feels alien to me, but it did make me think hard about my own work-life balance – or rather, the fact I don’t have one.
Of course, the big difference between me and Matt LeBlanc is that he starred in one of the most successful sitcoms of all time, so money probably isn’t a big worry for him.
I, on the other hand, am the main breadwinner for our family. I can’t just stop working.
I have a mortgage to pay, I employ a team of people and Leo’s nursery fees aren’t cheap. So, no, a five-year sabbatical isn’t on the cards for me any time soon.
Matt LeBlanc worked foot-to-the-floor for two decades, then put the handbrake on and stopped entirely. Is that normal? What is the optimal work-life balance for a happy and fulfilling life? Should I burn myself out now in an attempt to retire early? Everybody in my social circle seems on a quest to find out the same thing.
I certainly haven’t found the answer, but what I do know is that I seem to be waking up every morning having dreamt about an unending to-do list.
I lost out on a year of potential earnings because I was very ill after Leo was born, so with a whole heap of debt to pay off after that period I was seriously motivated to get back into work as soon as I was well enough. And I did – in a big way. I propelled myself into a cycle of working around the clock, which only fed my addictive nature.
You might not have experienced post-traumatic stress disorder, but you may have read Bessel van der Kolk’s book, The Body Keeps the Score. More than three million people have. In it, he writes about why people who have suffered extreme trauma are more likely to develop addictions. It’s because survivors often use substances to cope with their distress. The extra stress causes changes to a person’s brain function, making it more likely that your substance of choice will lead to addiction.
By the time I went through my near-death experience, I had already recovered from addictions to alcohol and toxic relationships. But hello, welcome to the party – my new substance of choice is work.
Matt LeBlanc took time off
I think it’s a combination of the dopamine hit I get from feeling in demand and the satisfaction of furiously ticking things off a list. Oh, and the PTSD that keeps me on the treadmill, because my brain loves the distraction. This all adds up to working days that start at 6am and sometimes don’t end until 11pm.
Contrary to what many might think, being self-employed doesn’t mean being in charge of your own time. I can’t always clock off when I get home. I am often pulled in different directions. When there isn’t the safety net of a regular salary, there is every incentive to keep going and say yes to each opportunity.
Now, I know I’m not performing life-saving surgery or defusing landmines, but from the moment I get up at 6am I’m pretty much always on. Leo comes first, then when he’s dropped off at 8am I start the process of my day. I leave the role of ‘soft mum’ at the school gates and turn on my hard business brain the moment my hand hits the steering wheel.
I dart back and forth between responding to chains of emails. I have my fingers in lots of pies: I manage my team and my property and fitness businesses; I run multiple social-media channels; record podcast episodes (my own with my fiancé Ryan and as a guest on others); do press interviews; organise weekly photo shoots (if not external, I shoot at home twice a week);
Since her illness, Louise works around the clock
I edit daily video content (hugely time-consuming); read contracts and build relationships with clients. I do a lot of spreadsheeting. I still also slot in bi-weekly NHS medical appointments and scans. Oh, and I do a lot of cleaning. I have to be front of house and back of house. I often wish that I could sit at a computer in a small dark room with no make-up on in a tracksuit with no one looking at me.
I’m loath to admit it, but I often find myself lying in bed with my son, mentally ticking off the jobs from the day.
I share a lot of the more glamorous things I do on social media, so to the outside world it must look like I spend my days cooking with Leo or showcasing lovely outfits. What I share less of is the constant rollercoaster, the ebb and flow of success that’s part of being my own boss, and the pressure that comes with it.
Last year was really successful and I felt both financially and professionally secure enough to be able to slow down in 2025. Except I’m so tempted by all the opportunities out there. In my industry nothing is guaranteed, so it’s impossible to say no to an exciting job when you don’t know when another one might come along.
Ryan recently asked me whether I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. It stopped me in my tracks because I have never stood still long enough to consider that.
So, am I where I wanted to be by 35?
● I don’t have the three kids I thought I would.
● I haven’t been able to step back and have more of a balcony view of my business.
● I haven’t invested in companies that have been sold off for billions.
● I haven’t got married.
● I still haven’t planned any whimsical girlfriend get-togethers doing zen activities like pottery, which I wanted to host post-illness.
● I’m still miles off feeling courageous enough to get on stage to do a Ted talk about my experience to help others.
But here’s what I do have:
● A best-selling book.
● A beautiful, happy child.
● I’m 90 per cent recovered from a serious illness.
● A pretty freaking snazzy home that feels very us.
● I don’t care what 50 per cent of the people I meet think of me, so I’m halfway there.
● A great relationship with my parents – dare I say it they’re becoming my best friends after years of me thinking they were uncool.
● A purpose to help others by sharing my own health battles, which counts for more than any of the things I haven’t ticked off.
I just need to learn to slow down and embrace it.
