How 'life coaching' myself kept me sane during building work

When I moved into my home last February, it became clear the kitchen needed attention.  Damp, impractical, with a failing boiler and musty old cupboards - it wasn’t working.

That quickly grew into plans for a small extension: a utility space and downstairs toilet, with the kitchen reworked into a galley.  Architects, builders, gas engineers followed.  Work finally began in May, and now - almost four months later - it’s about 97% done.

I’m pleased I’ve survived it relatively sane, even with the added heartbreak of losing my beloved cat Aslan mid-project.  Surviving it wasn’t by chance.  I prepared for the upheaval, put strategies in place, and (mostly) stuck to them.  I wouldn’t be much of a life coach if I hadn’t, I suppose.

Preparation – knowing what works for me

“Have you tried mindfulness?” is a question that makes me bristle every time I hear it.  What does that even mean?!?  For some it’s the colouring book that the person posing the question tends to have in mind; but for others it’s running a 10k, or preparing a three course meal.  The truth is - one size does not fit all and having one thing alone won’t cut it.  You need a toolkit that is personal to you.

For me: t'ai chi works when my body feels tense; singing at the top of my voice works when my mind won’t slow down; sound baths work for deep nourishment; sunrise work for perspective; boardgames work for distraction; and an early night works for everything.

These don't do it for you? That's fine. This is my list, and you will have your own.  The key is having it written down, so when stress hits you don’t have to think. It's there. Just pick one.

Daily routines and rituals

Throughout the work, routine really kept me grounded.  My builders usually arrived by 7:30, and at that point the cat vanished for the day. I had to get up early to feed him before the chaos, and developed my own ritual in that morning space:

-       Feed the cat.

-       Coffee barefoot on the grass (this lasted about 4 weeks before the lawn disappeared under rubble)

-       Reflect on the day and set two realistic expectations - anything from “builders to turn up” to “drainage system installed”.  If things slipped (and they did), I adjusted my expectations the next day.

I also developed an afternoon ritual:

-       Shower and change - washing off dust, marking the end of the day's chaos.

-       Call the cat back in - He did not like people in the house, but would be chilling in a nearby garden.  As he got used to the routine, he would often appear at the top of the garden when the builders switched their radio off, but when I called him in, he knew it was just us for the rest of the day.

On days where the mental burden of the build was greater than others, I would journal before bed; getting all the thoughts / fears / emotions relating to what was happening out of my head and onto paper to help me get a clear head and (hopefully) a good sleep.  This would also include a gratitude element; forcing myself to focus on the positives of the build on the days when these were maybe not as clear to see.

Self-care and acceptance

My list of nourishing activities kept me afloat - most of the time. By the fifth week without a kitchen, with laundry piling up, momentum flagged. Some days, all I could do was accept things as they were and know that going forward, I have a new mantra for bad days - “At least I’m not washing up in the bath tonight.”

Moving on

There’s still work to do, but the worst is behind me. The dust is mostly cleared (where does it keep coming from?),. Most of kitchen stuff is in its new home, so the dining room is getting back to normal. I can work at the table again! Life is returning to my new normal, creating routines without Aslan and getting used to him not being around.

The need for intense self-care has eased, and now it’s about settling back into sustainable long-term practices - and that feels good.