Delete, delete, delete.

I’ll be honest, I’m being reinvented right now.

This is what Martha Beck would call ‘Square One’ - the dissolving stage of change. Old ways of being, changing.

All the things that don’t fit any more, falling way.

An experience of inner autumn if you like - letting go, dropping, falling away, like a tree knowing it doesn’t need to hang onto those beautifully browning leaves - because they will grow anew next Spring.

I had a coaching call this week where my buddy Hannah helped me realise I needed to make some space, put my ‘big rocks’ in first, and stop cluttering up my time with sand and debris.

So when had a clear out of my gmail account yesterday whilst waiting for my car to be serviced, and I deleted something called ‘archive’ - I was surprised to see the teeny tiny message in the bottom left corner of my screen saying ‘deleting 24,500 messages’ but didn’t really know what it was. But more ‘hmm, that’s mildly curious’ as opposed to ‘holy shit what I have I done’, if you know what I mean.

It was only later, when finding myself blink-staring at a blank inbox that I realised what had happened.

Memories of all the things I’d saved and stored over the past decade that I was planning ‘on coming back to’.

Entire online courses I’d signed up to and kept the materials but never finished.

My train and hotel journeys for next week.

A copy of a family will that needed safekeeping.

Messages from my Mum.

Notes from coaching buddies from when I asked them to tell me my impact and they gave me some delicious, kind and spontaneously heartfelt words.

Stuff I meant to reply to but didn’t get around to.

All my login and subscription details for being a coach, a psychologist, a facilitator, all my Continuous Professional development details. Access to my ‘professional identity’.

Stuff that people had written and I’d kept because I was going to use what they’d done as a template that I wanted to do - invitation pages for workshops, for example

A million things I subscribe to but haven’t read.

All gone.

And although I’m shocked and horrified, in that kind of attached-to-our-inboxes kind of way, I’m surprised to find that I’m much, much more liberated and free.

Lighter. Much lighter.

Permission to admit I don’t need those online courses any more.

Trusting that the right information will always find its way to me, or I’ll be able to look it up.

Permission to let go of the idea that I’ll get back in touch ‘someday’.

Knowing that who I am at my core, is much more magnificent than any amount of evidence I need to gather in the form of qualifications, certifications, and external validations.

Knowing that the kind words from my friends lives inside us, our relationship, our hearts, not in some words on a screen.

And it’s inspired me to create a new way of being with my inbox.

Unsubscribe. Unhook. Let go. Delete, delete, delete.

And even if I knew of a way to bring it all back, I don’t think I would.