I work from home and currently my office is being renovated. New flooring, new wall colors, new shelves, new desk. Overhauling the lot of it.

Exiting my bedroom requires a careful navigation past the pink bins that up until now have been in my office, neatly holding all my stuff. A quick glance down the hall reveals the painter’s ladder in my recently-vacated space and stacks (and stacks) of books plus two empty bookshelves greet me as I descend the stairs.

As giddy with excitement as I am for my new space to be completed, I also know it’s going to take a little while for me to really be IN the new space because I’ve got to sort through all the bins, which harbor all the papers, and the pictures, and the pens whose ink dried up long ago, and the files, and the business cards and the who knows what else is hiding in there for me to discover.

And this, my friend, is what reinvention really looks like.

Steve Chandler’s book, Reinventing Yourself is such a personal favorite I have purchased hundreds of copies (see “stacks and stacks of books” above)! As a coach I use this term and extend the invitation to reinvent constantly — for myself and for my clients.

Reinvention, while highly recommended, is not easy work. And it’s certainly not done overnight.

The reinvention of my office space has taken me a year to conceptualize, plan for, hire the right help, rework the original vision, pay for, acquire the right materials, ask for physical support from friends and family (those bookshelves don’t move themselves), and finally to oversee its implementation.

And in the midst of all that, I’m negotiating pretty pink bins and their contents.

Life and its reinventions look exactly like this!

We first have to see the possibility in ourselves to reinvent. Once you’ve taken that step, you’ll catch a vision of what wants to be created within you. You’ll want to hire the right help and pay for your support (hire a coach, read an impactful and inspiring book, take a class, create a sticker chart to track your growth). And as you’re implementing the changes, you’ll navigate bins of stuff that you forgot about because it’s been so neatly contained on that top shelf, out of sight until now.

Don’t put it back on the shelf.

Sort through it.

Resolve it.

Shred it if it’s no longer useful to you.

And then recycle that shredded history in service to someone else.

Once it’s complete, that new office space will be a reflection of the love I bring to it because I loved myself through every step of the process and didn’t cut any corners or retain anything that no longer serves me.

Tidying up and reinventing ourselves is a process, not a procedure.