My Uninteresting Investigation into the Insides of my Successful Life

Photograph: Dina Goldstein

Little Summary Insight: As a mother of ten and corporate advisor, I interrogate the 'relatability trap'— the pressure to commodify our private lives for professional visibility. By rejecting social media theatrics, we reclaim our autonomy and prove that success does not require the performance of our humanity.

Prefer to listen? Press play below for the audio version:

We do not owe anyone the insides of our lives. And we do not owe palatable. 

A mentoring client recently told me they are flummoxed at how it is possible to craft and continue to grow a profitable business without ‘social media theatrics’. 

They're amazed that I don't plaster posts of me strutting into corporate buildings, beaming while boss taming in boardrooms, or cosying up next to my C-suite clientele. “Wait a sec, CEO of Cola AmaFlix! Before we begin, let's get a selfie of us smirking over your P&L or the ROI of our work together” 

No thanks, I don’t need staged snapshots to prove my worth. It’s antithetical to the confidentiality embedded in the consulting I deliver. 

But this conversation goes beyond just me; it’s about the commodification of women - especially in business and motherhood - the seeming incompatibility of the two, under constant scrutiny, even now.

The Commodification of Privacy: Why I refuse the staged snapshot.

Women are trained from day one to bare it all just to get a sliver of attention, to be seen, to be heard. From the awkward years of puberty, we’re handed the playbook: to ‘win,’ you’ve got to put some skin in the game - literally.

But the media? They often want more and more. And let’s be blunt - they dictate what we think we need to give. If you think showing just an ankle is enough, think again. These days, it’s equivalent of a full inside leg and a cheeky flash of labia, that’s the ticket.

And why not? We’re told to suck it up, play nice, and be the ‘good girl.’ If everyone else is stripping down in the crowded chaos of social media, why not join the show?

The step by step ‘need’ to triangulate other people’s perceptions goes something like this:

- Be vulnerable. Not so much you veer into overshare - avoid a public therapy session.

- Be honest. Keep something back - don’t hand someone a loaded gun to shoot you with later.

- Be thoughtful. Spare us the overthinking - if people’s eyes glaze over, you’ve gone too far.

- Be funny. Make it look like you barely tried - because trying too hard is so 2012.

- Be friendly. Not so friendly strangers start thinking they’re your new bestie - remember what happened last time.

- Stay three steps ahead. Don’t outpace anyone or you’ll look like you’re plotting world domination AKA being a scheming bitch.

Showing just the right cards is a curation - notice how much tuning this balance of ‘not too much’ but ‘just right’ takes.

Artist: Delaney Rogers

The precursor to this Q&A series was my roar about breaking free from the likeability trap and the reasons why being relatable is holding women small.¹

In that essay I challenge conventional notions of representation and promised to share six questions I’ve been asked, along with my unrelatable answers. Confession: I can’t be sure that my answers ARE unrelatable to you. I’m not saying they will be thrilling either. What I do know is that these answers are proven to be unrelatable ‘enough’. 

The Playbook of Exposure: Challenging the 'skin in the game' narrative.

They are questions I am asked. They are real not made up by me in a fake Q&A. Most of these questions are meant to be innocuous. None are insulting in their presentation. They are ‘reasonable’, but cliche laden. I unpack this in my answers.

My choice to share these answers chimes with artist Annegret Soltau, “I am using myself as a model because I can go the farthest with me". Dear reader, I can take liberties with myself, if I dare. But will I? 

Let’s see.

QUESTION 1: Can you walk us through a typical day in your life, juggling the demands of a large family and your career as a corporate consultant and podcaster? 

I know what this question is getting at, and I’m not buying it.

A typical day - seriously, what on earth does that even mean? Toss in a thriving career and a brood and suddenly it’s like you’re asking if I can perform magic tricks while spinning plates.

I thought we’d buried this prehistoric question six feet under by now. But here it is, alive and kicking, because we’re hardwired (as women) to believe that some mythical creature out there has nailed what we apparently can’t. Trust me, I’m not oblivious - I get the implication, loud and clear.

But answer me this: how many men get asked to break down their typical day, balancing a hefty career with a house full of kids? Not many, right?

Writing a "day in the life" piece? Brace yourself. It’s a balancing act: How much truth is too much? Do you really want to spill the tea on your diva-level habits? Will your hobbies make you sound like you’re preaching from a pedestal?

Look at Gregg Wallace, who thought he’d nailed it when he mapped out his daily routine in The Telegraph. The MasterChef presenter’s viral routine involved war games, a 7am sauna and a fry-up at Harvester. He figured readers would connect the dots and see that, of course, he spends more than 90 minutes a day with his autistic child. Wrong. Then he casually mentioned his younger wife wanted a baby, but he was not so keen.

Cue the backlash. People jumped to conclusions, assuming his child was unwanted. Next thing you know, he’s issuing public apologies and trying to explain what he really meant by “a typical day.”

Photo: BBC/PA

So here’s my un-relatable ‘typical day’:

Everybody likes a peekaboo at the minutiae of other people’s lives. One of the core things that I’ve been working on is: actually living the life that was promised by the business/life model I crafted. 

Picture this: We moved to the countryside. I wanted ultra slow living, the kind where you actually have time to breathe, mooch about in wellies, and where home education for the kids is part of the deal. Oh, and I head a consulting firm. Yeah, I know, sounds wild and ever so greedy.

In my consulting firm, I’m advising board members and C-suite execs, making magic happen with peak performance and human capital strategies. On top of that, I've got a wait list virtual private practice where I mentor Founders and creatives.​​ In my night job I produce and host multi award-winning podcasts along with the writing I do here. Basically, I’ve got a lot of creative plates spinning. It’s a lot, but it’s my lot, and I love it!

Here's the kicker: I don’t hustle. Nope, not my style. Nearly all my business comes through referrals and personal recommendations. My whole approach is about big results, and high autonomy which means I try to work when I want, how I want, while being the kind of mother I aspire to be.

There’s no “typical” day in my world. I’m prepared to be a disappointment. Some days, I’m hopping on a train to boardrooms. Other days, it’s remote meetings and presentations from home. And then there are those glorious days with nothing on the schedule – no meetings, no kids' activities, not even a grocery run.

Here are some non-negotiables in my days:

☐ As a family we don’t operate on a weekday/weekend model. 

☐ We don’t segment life into work and play. I adore mothering my children. I’m head over heels for my work. If it starts to feel like drudge work, I tweak my focus ← high autonomy in action, I meant what I said earlier. 

☐ Life is a mash-up. Each day is a blend - an integration of business and kids, creativity and household monotony, sensuality and the outdoors. 

☐ I don’t live for social media. I’m too engaged in life itself to document it all.²

☐ Sometimes, I batch days. All kids, all podcast recording, all client calls, all production, all strategy. Plus, I play Scrabble every day. If you’re a fellow word nerd, you’ll understand the pull. 

☐ To avoid ‘doing a Wallace’ here’s the nub: other than when I’m in a boardroom I have my kids 24/7 with childcare support only when I am in a company. Whatever I do is with them, around them, beside them, despite them, and most of all because of them.

“Unlikeable women accept the consequences of their choices, and those consequences become stories worth reading” Roxanne Gay

QUESTION 2: How do you maintain your professional edge and productivity with the constant demands of a large family? 

Honestly, part of me has no clue how to answer this. I’m seeing two ideas here, and one feels alien.

Let’s look at the whole "professional edge" thing first. I never consider the idea of keeping my professional edge. Is the concept about staying cutting-edge, being visible as a pro, or not losing my spot because I’m a mother? 

Here’s my take: professional edge is probably what makes you pop in your field, giving you that extra boost to ‘crush it’ in your career.

I just don’t view my career through a scarcity or competition lens. I’m clear about my abilities, and my lacks. Whether I’m in a Teams meeting rocking scruffs and chipped nails or dressed to the nines in business wear, my confidence is solid. Women are not supposed to say that, right?! 

I’m not sweating over motherhood denting my professional cred. I know my womb has zilch to do with my ability to offer top-notch advisory services. 

Above all, I show up as my authentic self, bringing my brand of business expertise and my version of  professional edge.

TIP: I take myself ‘seriously enough’ as a professional. When I was an academic, I looked like one of the students and was often mistaken for an undergrad. It taught me a crucial lesson: I was taken seriously to the extent I took myself seriously. Once I recognised my worth, others questioned it less and less. It’s also important to note that my privilege as a white, educated person played a role in that.

When it comes to productivity, I’m all about creating space - even when 24/7 caregiving for children with complex needs is part of the deal. Space is where my focus is. I ‘ride the waves’ of my energy and flow, and I don’t waste time forcing myself to do things I loathe or suck at. 

Here’s the secret sauce, and trust me, this comes from hard-won experience: don’t agree to work that feels off from the start. I only work with companies and clients that I vibe with, where the alignment is real. Our intuition is our greatest asset, even when our heads are screaming at us to sell our souls for the cash.

Of course we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do to put food on the table. But inviting drama and toxicity into my entrepreneurial life? Not a chance. I’m all about ease, and I give myself some serious slack. Tuning into our body’s rhythms and working with them isn’t just smart - it’s essential.

I’m as productive as I want and need to be, no more, no less. Some days, I’m all in, and other days, I rest more. My favourite workspace? My bed-office, of course. 

I’m a firm believer in teaching kids to respect their mama’s need for space and her own life. I’m not just Mama - I’m Danusia, a person with her own identity. This isn’t about shutting doors, making grand gestures, or checking out. It’s about how I speak up for myself, express my needs, and nourish my own sense of self.

“We don’t owe anyone SHIT. We do not have to unzip our skin and bare our entire souls for the purposes of monetising our writing” Karen T Smith

QUESTION 3: As a busy mother and entrepreneur, how do you prioritise self-care and mental health? Can you share any practices or routines that help you stay grounded and resilient?

There’s this assumption that I prioritise self-care. But honestly, isn’t the real question how I even find the time to think about myself at all? Shouldn’t we be asking something deeper? Something that actually gets to the heart of it?

The whole “self-care” concept comes wrapped in the idea that, as a woman, a mother, and in my case, an entrepreneur, I’m expected to put myself last. It’s a loaded question, almost colluding with the belief that this is the ‘right’ way to be.

Let’s talk about the self-care narrative that’s been doing the rounds. There’s the version that makes us feel like utter crap unless our self-care is soft, beautiful, and Insta-worthy. It’s the kind of self-care that seems tailor-made for white, middle-class, skinny, yoga-bending, green-smoothie-guzzling, manifesting women. It boxes in what self-care should look like, making us feel like we don’t have our act together because our version doesn’t fit the mould.

Then there’s the other trap: impressive early morning routines that people rave about³. They lure us away from what actually works for us, steering us towards what works for others. Well, I’m done with feeling guilty or ashamed about the self-care that works for me.

Maybe my self-care is not washing my hair for two weeks and giving myself the gift of monotropic style work focus that lights me up. Throw in a few orgasms, and should I crown myself the Queen of Self-Care? No, that’s not ‘relatable,’ is it? So instead, we keep recycling the same tired self-care clichés that just end up making everyone else feel worse.

I’m making a quick swerve, hold tight.

Can we agree that one of the great travesties of capitalism is that it teaches us we must be in a state of constant productivity? The lie is that our worth is determined by what and how much we are able to produce. 

It keeps us caught never being enough, and leaves us with little time for reflection and integration, the exact things we need in order to have meaningful, happy and FULL lives. 

One of my top priorities for mental health is keeping my nervous system regulated. I couldn’t juggle all these laden plates without this focus. When I say it's top of mind, I mean I make sure there's PLENTY of SPACE in my schedule. No overbooking, no overstimulation - I'm getting better at dodging overwhelm. I’m human, there are still days when I get this wrong but I don’t realise till I’m yelling, and tearful. Then it hits me. I’m overtired and overloaded.

I’ve got tons of energy and a huge appetite for life, so I try hard to keep a close eye on my burn rate, with a whole lot of self-compassion. My mantra when scheduling is: “How much space am I carving out for myself?” I book myself into my calendar just like I do with clients. I treat myself as a VIP client.

I prioritise getting enough rest. Modelling this is part of the gig - as I’ve said, I slip up and stretch myself too thin (it’s just my nature). I try to show my kids the importance of downtime, like curling up under soft blankets (<- in the Guardian way back, on masculinity and blankets), switching from screens to books, and truly rejuvenating. Recently I spilled the beans on a secret self care habit that no one wants to talk about, but trust me, it’s crucial!

“Perhaps to create something incredible, one has to go through the extremes.” Niki de Saint Phalle

JOINING INVISIBLE DOTS

This is me in the trenches, wrestling with the meta narratives about what it takes (for me) to be a woman raising kids while running a business. It’s a never-ending juggle between the masks we wear and the truths we dare to share.

I’m navigating the minefield of decisions about what to put out there and what to keep locked away in the vault. What’s safe to reveal? What could backfire and nuke my professional reputation? And let’s not forget the trickiest bit: what do I record in this moment that I might regret later? How do I discuss the raw reality of raising vulnerable, disabled children while also celebrating the life we’re building?

And then there’s the big challenge, the suffocating pressure to be likeable, to be relatable. It’s the kind of pressure that keeps us small, that forces us to dilute our truths so we don’t ruffle any feathers. It’s what keeps so much of what we read from women hemmed in, as if we’re all dancing within the same narrow lines drawn by expectations that don’t serve us.

These questions keep me (you?) up at night. And really, what is the truth of a person anyway?

Stay tuned - Part 2 drops soon. I hope you’ll join me to see where this conversation goes next.

LET’S TALK!

What permission or wisdom are you still waiting for to break free from any ‘narrowtives’ - the ones that tell you how you ‘should’ live, work, and care for yourself? What if being unrelatable is exactly what you need to embrace a more vibrant, full life on your terms?

What will it take to ditch the pressure to fit in, and embrace more expansive, authentic ways of living? Let’s widen the conversation.

And if you’ve got thoughts on the answers I’ve shared - or if you see things differently, or want to check out dots you might be joining - let’s hear them. Drop your thoughts, share your stories, and let’s start redefining what it means to truly live well - whether it’s relatable or not.

Till next time,

1. I split the six question into two Parts each with three questions because otherwise this essay is unwieldy.

2. This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you buy through them at no cost to you.

3. Full disclosure, I wake early. It suits me, my life, and my energy. Clients think I live in LA because of the hours I keep. The difference? I'm not telling anyone to do what I do.