New Year, new me

Six years ago at 1.20am on New Year's Day, I woke up. I was 30 miles from home at the end of the Tube line, having slept through my stop, and I thought - "I can't do this any more." My life was a mess. I was up to my ears in debt, my four-year marriage was in trouble as fertility problems drove an ever-increasing distance between my husband, Jools, and I. And I spent every day fighting a bone-crushing fatigue that seemed to eat me up from the inside out, until all I could do was cushion myself on the sofa every night lest the slightest knock would shatter me into tiny, brittle pieces.

From the outside, life looked rosy. I was married to a man I loved - a 40-year-old jazz musician who tours quite frequently. I had a dream job, writing articles for glossy magazines, and an apartment in Bow, east London. I had almost everything I said I wanted, so why did I find myself alone, very drunk and desperately unhappy on New Year's Day in the wilds of Essex with two snoring strangers? Jools had been working and I was forced to party alone.

Today I have more luck, love and happiness than I ever dreamed could be possible. I am deeply in love with my husband, seven months pregnant with our first child, debt-free, with more money in the bank then ever before, and doing work I'd probably pay to do.

What changed? I did. This didn't mean me moving to France and buying a vineyard or downsizing or downshifting, getting a divorce or joining a cult. I know how tempting it is to promise on the stroke of midnight tonight that you're going to lose three stone, or find a job/man you really love, or dramatically change your life, only to find yourself disillusioned and in the same unfulfilling job/relationship/situation on Valentine's Day.

If you are anything like me, you'll have thought that a few tweaks here and there would do the trick. But it takes a hell of a lot more to get the life you really want. I know, because I've done it.

I found doing something differently is the easy bit - the hard bit is thinking differently. My life didn't change the moment I woke up on New Year's Day but rather when I got to the root of my problems and started thinking differently about myself.

I had some help in the shape of a life coach. I know it sounds too Oprah for words, and, being a call-a-spade-a-shovel-Northerner, I had similar prejudices. I thought having a life coach was for women with more money than sense, but a friend spoke glowingly about one who had helped to change her job and whole personality, so I thought I'd give it a go.

My undoubted scepticism was compounded by the fact that for three 45-minute sessions I'd be paying £180 a month ... for telephone calls! Not even a session in some cosy Wigmore Street clinic. I now realise that doing it over the phone helps to break down barriers and can be less nerve-racking. I may not have shown nerves in that first session, but I was cynical, defensive, though still curious. I didn't want anyone to tell me how to live my life. But there I was on my sofa, phone in hand and talking to a strange woman in Bath who was barking encouraging things at me. Rather than focusing on what I didn't want, my coach had me concentrate on what I did want. She asked me: "What would a life you adored really look like?"

A life I adored? Don't worry, I sneered too, but humoured her. I described a fertile life of being nuzzled non-stop by my husband, being debt-free, finding some kind of work that would make every day feel like a holiday.

Then came the question that changed my life. What would you have to believe about yourself for this dream to come true? I blustered, I sneered a bit more - but in the end, I wept. I realised that for me to get a life I adored, the thing that was going to have to change was me.

Through my own journey, I have discovered that self-belief is everything. If you don't believe you're good enough, you can't say no, you put up with stuff you don't want to put up with, you work all day and night to prove that you are worthy of a place in the world. It's not what you do differently that will change your life, it's what you believe about yourself. Thousands of us are simply people-pleasers, spending time with people we don't even like, working like dogs just to buy clothes, cars and houses to prove to ourselves and to others that we're somebody. Six years ago, that was me. It's not surprising I was tired when I spent my whole life in an exhausting pantomime that actually had nothing to do with what I wanted but was all about my fears.

I used to buy endless pairs of Jimmy Choos on a credit card when I couldn't even walk in them, never mind afford them. I wanted a badge of belonging, to be a member of the affluent and sexy elite and allow my shoes to say what my inner self couldn't. Of course, there's a pay-off for living that kind of life. It keeps you safe. You don't have to go after your dreams. You can blame everyone else - your husband, your stressful job, your fascist boss - for your crap life, while remaining a martyr to the cause. Up to then I had muddled through life not realising I had a choice. And there I was in my first session with my new life coach, being asked to take responsibility, to be the creator of my life, rather than the victim of it. It scared the hell out of me.

My first step was to start believing in my own worth. I knew that I was good enough and clever enough to succeed, but I needed to prove it to myself, so that self-belief became more important than ever.

But how did my new attitude affect life with Jools at home? Well, first I began by sorting out the "Friday problem", which had begun to have a serious impact on the only time we really had together - the weekend. Six years ago he went out with his mates every Friday night when we hadn't seen each other all week. I demanded that Friday night became date night. I was surprised when he agreed quite eagerly (to be honest, I think he translated "date night" for "sex night") but I realised I'd never really asked him not to go out before. I'd just assumed that he didn't want to spend time with me and then I would stew inwardly and bitch about something unrelated throughout the weekend. So we'd argue all the time but never sort out what was wrong.

Once I was clear about what I wanted, we started to have a good time again - going ice-skating, or having a curry night or just spending an evening in the bath together, rather than the bar.

I know this sounds like tinkering at the edges, but for us that one night kick-started a whole series of changes. Once you make a big change like that, you can then start working on the details. When you believe you're "worth it", you look after yourself. From the pile of ironing to the vats of wine I drank, my coach asked me to put in systems that would ensure the energy drains in my life were permanently sorted. I hired a cleaner, bought healthier food, and life began to get easier. I had committed to not working at weekends but I took it one step further and started working a four-day week. I doubled my rates as a freelance writer.

The bigger the reserves of time, space, energy and love I built, the more of what I wanted seemed to flood in.

This approach isn't a quick fix. It's taken six years of making baby steps and the occasional giant leap. Hiring a cleaner was easy, more difficult was my decision to train as a life coach. I had become so convinced about the benefits of life coaching that I decided to start my own business with the money I had earned as a journalist.

Taking such momentous decisions and embarking on that unpredictable journey can be very scary, but this New Year's Eve I feel as if someone has shone a warm light into all my dark corners, and, having planted the seeds, I'm now reaping the benefits.

You don't need to hire a life coach to get a life you adore - although it helps. I just think we need to have a massive rethink and start answering some tough questions; stop moaning about what life is offering you and start making some different choices. The hardest step is always the first - to take responsibility for your life - but I know now that it's entirely possible. In fact, I'm convinced that's why I've become a life coach myself. Just to make sure I stay committed to my dreams...