“This semester will be different,” you whisper as you colour-code your calendar. It’s September, and right now you’re full of optimism and good intentions. And yet… here’s how it usually goes:

Every September you make the same promise to yourself: “This semester will be different. I’ll actually protect my time better and get some research done.” And then? Teaching, admin and email overload hit like a tonne of bricks. Your calendar explodes.

Let’s talk about tired. Not all tired is created equal. And you know this. There’s the kind of tired that feels terrible.

Let’s talk about the sneakiest perfectionist habit in the room: obsessive tracking. At first, it feels empowering.  You’ve got your shit together!

Some people’s best thinking turns up with the sunrise. Others find it waiting for them at midnight. If you’re the latter, you already know the signs…

Isn’t it strange. Vice-chancellors seem oddly chill, even when the whole institution is on fire. Meanwhile, most academics I know are one meeting away from meltdown.

Tired of being overlooked while others shine? Your work deserves to be seen. Visibility isn’t vanity—it’s power. Stop waiting. Start showing up. The cost of staying hidden is too high.

Most of us were raised on a steady diet of gold stars, merit systems, award certificates, badges and maybe even a princess castle progression chart.  It felt good to be recognised!  It still does, of course.

So many women—especially high-achieving women in academia—have been taught, explicitly or not, that it’s our job to make things easier for others.  To be helpful and nice.

One of my clients dialled into a call from her exciting international location again this morning. And she told me she wrote the ENTIRE grant application…

If you’re an academic in the UK right now, you’re probably marking. Or putting off marking.  Or talking to anyone who’ll listen about how you’re dying from marking.

You blinked and it was mid-August. The term had wrung you out like one of those blue rag dishcloths, so you spent the first three weeks in a dark room…

It’s 9 pm and I’m still working. That’s rule number one broken: I don’t work in the evenings. But here I am, marking. It’s rare.

You’re working six days a week, checking emails in the evenings and on weekends, because the admin pile-up just won’t stop. When it comes to admin overload in academia, two forces drive the problem.

You say “yes” to another panel invitation and immediately wonder if there’s a German word for deep existential regret with a professional smile. You don’t really have time. But you’re flattered. And you don’t want to let anyone down.

There’s a particular kind of quiet tragedy in academia: not the big headlines about REF or funding cuts or strike action (though those matter, of course), but the small, daily loss of what academics were actually trained to do—produce knowledge.

You sit down to do deep work—write a paper, prep a lecture, plan your research.

But before you know it, your fingers are on autopilot.

📩 Inbox. Refresh. Scroll. Click.

You lack boundaries around your inbox, and this is one of the top reasons that you are a flustered professor who only seems to have one mode: spread thin. You open your email inbox for a quick check—maybe just to confirm a module code, or see what time a meeting starts, fast-forward two hours, and...

You’re holding back on publishing your best ideas because theory feels scary to you. That’s the truth I’ve learned from clients, writing groups, and, if I’m honest, my own experience in academia.

You’ve got a brilliant idea—maybe even five.  But nothing’s happening.  I’m talking about the ground-breaking research centre, the important article, or the amazing life-changing impact project.