“You can’t grow a vineyard you never water.” — Unknown
During our sabbatical, my husband and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in Napa Valley, California.
Our Airbnb overlooked a once-abundant vineyard—lush in memory, but now somewhat overgrown.
And yet, something caught my eye: someone had started pegging out new trellises.
Not a full replanting or a dramatic makeover. Just the quiet beginnings of renewal.
I stood there, taking it in, and thought—
That’s what it looks like to begin again.
To honour what once was.
To notice what’s been left untended.
And to choose, with care, what new supports are needed for the next season.
That image stayed with me. It mirrored something stirring in me, too.
The Quiet Cost of Always Saying Yes
A phrase surfaced during my sabbatical that landed deeply:
“I’ve been tending everyone else’s vineyard… and neglecting my own.”
It wasn’t just a metaphor—it was the truth.
As women, leaders, and caregivers, we often tend to do what’s asked of us. We care for teams, families, communities, and visions with open hearts and strong hands.
But what happens when the vineyard that suffers is our own?
I noticed where I had said yes again and again—to meaningful projects, to people I cared for, to opportunities that aligned with my values.
But not all of them were mine to carry for the long haul. Some had run their course. Some were never mine to begin with.
And while I gave freely, I began to realise that in certain spaces, people were happily on the receiving end of my care… but didn’t always honour what it cost me to give it.
This kind of subtle overfunctioning—taking on more than necessary or carrying the weight of others’ expectations—often goes unspoken.
But the body knows. The soul knows. The dream at the edge of your desk knows.
What ZEAL Reminded Me
ZEAL, the coaching and supervision service I founded, was born from my love of helping women lead with heart.
But in the rhythm of doing good work for others, parts of that original vision had grown wild at the edges—not lost, but not fully nurtured either.
Sabbatical didn’t judge me for that. It gently invited me back to what’s mine.
Your vineyard—your energy, your clarity, your legacy—is worth tending.
That includes:
- The work that genuinely lights you up
- The boundaries that honour your health
- The deep values that shape how you lead
- The still, quiet dreams you barely say aloud
How to Begin Again Without Burning It All Down
You don’t have to start over. You start with yourself.
Here’s what I’m learning as I tend my own vineyard:
- Clarify What’s Yours
Not everything in your field is yours to harvest. Which work, relationships, or visions are genuinely aligned with your current season? - Withdraw Energy (Gracefully) From What’s Not
You don’t need to explain or justify. Release it. Let the vine return to fallow if it must. - Replant With Intention
Where do you want fruit to grow this year? What deserves your yes now, fully and freely? - Protect the Perimeter With Discernment
Kindness doesn’t mean constant access. Sometimes people need to learn to dig their own well. If we’re always the source, we risk keeping them small—and that’s not truly generous. - Tend Gently. Rest Often.
A vineyard doesn’t flourish under constant toil. It thrives in rhythm, care, and the light of consistent attention.
For Women Who Lead (and Feel the Weight of It)
Whether you lead in business, health, community, family, or change-making spaces, this matters.
Because you matter.
Your vineyard—your vision, your voice, your vitality—is not optional. It’s essential.
Maybe, like me, you’re being invited to not only offer your strength to the world, but to create space for your wellbeing to grow strong again, too.
Your Invitation to Begin Again
If this resonates, let’s explore how you can create more space for clarity, boundaries, and vitality in your leadership and life.
👉 Schedule a Free 1:1 Call with Sharon
Let’s take 30 minutes to explore how I can best support you—whether through personal coaching, group programs, or workshops. This is a no-pressure conversation where I’d love to hear your story and understand your goals. Together, we’ll see how I can help you move forward.
A Gentle Pause for You
Right now, place a hand on your heart.
Exhale slowly.
Ask yourself—
What’s one part of your vineyard you’ve been neglecting?
What would it look like to begin tending it again this week—not someday?
Let that be your next step. Take control of your vineyard, your life, and your wellbeing.
