January has a way of stripping everything back.
The festive noise has gone quiet. The days are short. The credit card bills arrive. Motivation feels thin.
And somewhere in that stillness, a question surfaces for a lot of people:
“Is this it? Is this what my life is going to look like for the foreseeable future?”
That’s why people talk about Blue Monday. Not because one date has mystical power, but because it reflects something real. A collective pause where tiredness, pressure, and quiet anxiety come to the surface.
This newsletter exists for one reason: to help people create a different life, not through reckless exits, but through small, intentional steps, taken consistently, until options appear.
And I want to start with a truth that reshaped how I see work, security, and choice.
For a long time, I believed responsibility equalled safety.
I ran a school. I carried serious accountability. I managed a £2 million budget. The job mattered.
It mattered to children, to staff, to families, to the wider community.
Then I found myself involved in redundancy decisions.
Not because people weren’t good enough. Not because they didn’t care. Not because they hadn’t given everything.
But because decisions were being made at a level above any individual.
That’s when the illusion cracked.
You can be excellent at what you do. You can be loyal, committed, and deeply invested. And still have no control over outcomes.
That realisation isn’t just professional, it’s emotional. Because work isn’t only income. It’s identity. Stability. A sense of being “safe”.
Blue Monday often hurts because it exposes that fragility.
Most people think risk looks like leaving.
Often, the bigger risk is staying dependent on a single source for everything.
One income stream is one point of failure.
If budgets tighten. If leadership changes. If priorities shift. If your health changes. If life throws something unexpected at you.
You can find yourself trapped, not because you made bad choices, but because you didn’t have alternatives.
This is not about quitting your job.
It’s about creating options quietly, in the background, so you’re never forced into a decision you didn’t choose, on a day you didn’t plan.
When I climbed Kilimanjaro, the guides repeated a phrase constantly:
Pole, pole. Slowly, slowly.
That’s how you reach the summit. Not by sprinting. Not by panicking. Not by trying to do everything in one burst of motivation.
One step. Then another.
That’s also how you change your life.
Don’t obsess over the summit. Focus on the step in front of you.
Most people don’t fail because change is impossible. They fail because they stop walking.
Consistency beats motivation every time. Small steps compound quietly. One day you look up and realise you’re no longer where you started.
I’m a Manchester City fan and always have been.
January Mondays used to feel heavy. Get through today. Get through the week. Repeat.
But by building a side project alongside my teaching role, slowly and deliberately, something shifted.
Eventually, Monday stopped feeling like a sentence.
I could travel. Follow my team. Come back without that knot in my stomach.
That wasn’t luck.
That was optionality.
That’s what small steps create.
So if Blue Monday feels heavy for you, hear this clearly: you don’t need a miracle. You need a plan. And you need movement.
Everyone wears the same kit. Not everyone climbs with the same belief.
You will never consistently outperform the story you tell yourself.
“I’m not confident.” “I’m bad with money.” “I’m not a leader.” “I’m too old.”
Try flipping them:
“I’m learning to communicate.” “I’m becoming financially literate.” “I’m developing leadership skills.” “I’m more experienced. I know what matters.”
Choose one identity statement for this year and repeat it until it becomes normal.
“I’m the kind of person who finishes what I start.”
Identity shapes behaviour. Behaviour shapes results.
On Kilimanjaro, the porters carried more than bags.
They carried belief. They watched breathing. They noticed energy dips. They encouraged us when we were cold, quiet, and close to quitting.
Life works the same way.
Most people don’t need more advice. They need encouragement. They need the right environment. They need the right people.
If you’re exhausted right now, it might not be the climb. It might be who you’re climbing with.
Momentum is fragile. Choose your circle carefully.
One year from now, you’ll still be on your climb.
The only question is whether you’ll be higher up, or standing in the same place.
This is why I wrote From the Classroom to the Climb. Not to promote reckless exits, but to offer a blueprint for steady transformation.
If this resonated on Blue Monday, reply and tell me three things:
1. What climb are you on right now? 2. What is one small step you’ll take this week? 3. What label are you dropping this year, and what are you replacing it with?
Pole, pole. Slowly, slowly.
Small steps. Better choices. A different life.
Derek
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