Saying goodbye to "A Year in the Merde"
Losing to the change monster over and over
Stephen Clarke has made a career taking digs at French people. He’s taken every single quirk and cliché about them, cranked it up to 11, and written potboilers about them. The book that started it all is called: A Year In The Merde. Then came Merde Actually, Merde Happens, Dial M for Merde, The Merde Factor — you get the picture (hint: it’s brown).
As a French person in recovery, I can attest: it’s hilarious. (My favourite title is Talk To The Snail: Ten Commandments For Understanding The French — amusing ain’t it?)
The author, despite being British, actually got something right: sometimes all you want is to get out of the merde. It wedges itself in your crampons, smells absolutely awful, and sticks to your clothes with unforgiving tenacity.
2024 for me, in a nutshell.
I can’t wait to say goodbye to this shitty year.
Well done 2024 — you’ve officially made it among the worst years of my life. “Flunk school followed by depression” 2002 is up there, so is “I HATE THE WORLD teenager me” 1995; but never had I never experienced day to day pain for months like this before.
Thankfully, the worst is behind me. My health is back up to 100% against all odds. I can use both of my arms! I can drive again! I’m back on a bike! I’m still here, motherf*ckers!!
But while physical health is back, my mental one is shaken. I’m still experiencing weird ups and downs. I have a hard time moving on.
For whatever reason, this event has brought to the surface a slew of questions about my confidence, and the direction I want my life to move toward.
2024 is when I met my change monster.
2024, hands and feet in the 💩
Jan - Two big contracts planned for early 2024 are canceled due to budget cuts. We start the year with no work and no clients on the horizon.
Feb - The damaged nerve in my shoulder that I’ve dealt with for the past 20 years is acting up. A lot. I need to stop working.
Mar - Home alone, cannot do much due to pain. “Have you contacted the disability department?” asks the neurologist.
Apr - Home alone. Cannot work, cannot drive. Brain fog most days. What will happen to our business? How will we make money?
May - Finally have the Electromyography done. Results: it’s not one but two damaged nerves. That probably explains the brain fog and the lack of mobility. Niamh has stepped up and is running the business without me.
Jun - The horse tranquilizers I’m taking are working better, but the side effects are impacting my focus and memory. I’ve put on 5 kilos. My disability application is rejected by the Irish health department. I would have qualified if I was working at a company, but the rules are different when you’re self-employed. I’m unable to work, but I’m not completely 100% totes ‘invalid’ so… stay home and live off the money your wife is making I guess?
Jul - Niamh’s happy and doing great running the biz on her own. Maybe she’s better without me? Rhizotomy is successful (procedure to remove sensation from a painful nerve by killing nerve fibers responsible for sending pain signals to the brain). Is this the end of the pain?
Aug - Feeling better. Great holidays in France with Niamh. Woohoo!!
Sep - Weaning myself off the meds. I’m doing ok, so why am I still overwhelmed every time I do something?
Oct - Physical health is good! I’ve lost most of the weight I’d put on. Niamh is running the business like a champ. It’s working! Should I be looking for a job? But… but… I love the little business we created! Oh, so tired.
Nov - Yes, definitely looking for a job. Why is it so hard to stick to a schedule? Why are recruiters not answering my calls?
Dec - WAIT. WHO AM I AGAIN?
If you look at it objectively, what happened is nothing to write home about. Pain lasted only six months-ish. I didn’t die. I have recovered (as long as I don’t do anything stupid, which is not guaranteed).
In the words of a female friend: “You’ve basically experienced the identity shifts that most women experience with childbirth or menopause — you were just not prepared for it.”
Thank you, Cara-Lyn, for your tough love. I love you too.
I’ve no idea what these life challenges feel like for women, but this rings true.
So no pity party. But still… why do I still feel lost?
The change monster
There’s something funny about working in People Development. You’re supposedly equipped with tools to deal with change. For instance, we teach folks about the change curve below to help them deal with work change:
There are different variations of it, but they’re all based on the study of grief and letting go. It’s very useful for making sense of things.
And then you live through a period of change, and you realize that the curve stacks upon itself like a self-replicating clone monster on steroids.
You experience waves of change, weird identity resets, and doubts about who you are at your core.
Here’s a more accurate change curve as I’ve experienced it in 2024:
Hold on.
We need a better representation of that change monster.
Introducing THE CHANGE HYDRA: the self-replicating uncertainty monster from the depth of my psyche!!
You see the 3 heads at the end where the curve slips up? It’s because I haven’t reconciled the possibilities swirling around in my head, like:
Should I stop working on our business and do something else? If so…
Should I go back to a “normal” job?
Should I do fractional work?
Should I continue to be a consultant?
Should I pack my bags and live in a van for a year?
OMG YEASSSS!!! Hold on — my daughter needs to go to school. Doesn't she?
How will we make $$$?
Should I dedicate my time to writing another book?
I’m totally going to write a novel!
Nobody’s reading this newsletter. Yeah, but what if I double down on writing it?
What about my life plans? I was supposed to be happy running my own business…
The past few months have been an endless stream of thoughts as I’ve moved from Experimenting with new things to Decisions I was totally going to make, then back to Experimenting, then making a new Decision, then nope — actually, let’s go back to Frustration and start over.
Integrating? Not so much.
Without Integration, I’ve been experiencing high and low energy without a clear purpose. I feel like I get there, but nope OH MY GOD what is happening?!
I’m stuck in The Messy Middle of change.
Every step forward feels like two steps backward.
Everything takes sooooooooooo much time!
Which leads me to sloth wisdom.
Sloths: They are so right
This is my main learning from this shitty year: it can take a loooooong time for the brain to make sense of change. It’s real work to rejigger neuropathways under the hood.
And it’s OK.
It’s as it should be because the speed of change isn’t measured in calendar days — it’s measured in mindset shifts.
Hitting walls forces us to reckon with the parts of ourselves that have been holding us back. It doesn’t feel like it at all when you’re in the middle of it, but I know — deep inside I know — that all the back and forth I’m experiencing is me figuring shit out, and it will be OK in the end.
I cannot go back to who I was before because experiencing non-stop pain has given me new knowledge on what it means to be human. At the same time, I cannot throw everything out of the window and go live on an island rearing sheep (can I?).
No, the solution is in the Integration of all of what I am now. And making sense of that stuff takes time.
So this is what I try to do: when I feel stuck in the messy middle, swimming in a sea of 💩, pursued by a nasty change monster, I try to remember that a friendly sloth is in the boat with me, doing hard mental work. It doesn’t look like it — mental work can be very disorienting — but I remind myself to trust the process: this work will eventually lead me to the right destination.
I hope you won’t forget to bring a little sloth friend on your journey, whatever mess you're stuck in.
Thank you 2024, for teaching me patience with change and forcing me to confront things.
2025, I'm coming for you!
Life is messy, change relentless, and sometimes we’re neck-deep in 💩. At Midlife Stuntman, I share hard-won insights on chaos, growth, and laughing through life’s uncomfortable lessons — French irreverence, zero platitudes, and yes, sometimes 🥐.