I stumbled out of bed into the darkness; it must have been about a quarter past five in the morning. I pulled the curtain back to see what the weather was doing, and I could see that there was a heavy frost on the cars parked in the cul-de-sac. Today was going to be a tough day.

The winter had set in already, despite it only being October. It’s this time of year when I struggle with getting out of bed. The darkness was oppressive, and the dreariness of winter brought out absolute depression and anxiety in me.

I let the curtain fall back into place and fumbled my way around the end of the bed in what little light I could see.

THUMP!

“This bloody bed!” I muttered to myself under my breath, having just cracked my thigh on the corner of the bed for the third time this week.

I was more worried about waking up my wife, Susan, and our 11-month-old baby, Jacob, who was still sleeping in his crib in our bedroom.

My first daughter, Elena, had been fine; the sleep deprivation was bearable, and I’d been full of motivation having just started up my business working as a golf professional. But with Jacob, I struggled. The tiredness was unbearable and made me unbearable as a result.

As much as I loved coming home after a day at work, the short transition between work brain and ‘Daddy brain’ was impossible. Shifting from a hectic day teaching, to rush hour traffic and then into the bath and bedtime routine was a nightmare.

As much as I loved coming home after a day at work, the short transition between work brain and ‘Daddy brain’ was impossible. Shifting from a hectic day teaching, to rush hour traffic and then into the bath and bedtime routine was a nightmare.

I felt most sorry for Susan who, yet again for another night, had been up 2, 3 4, 6…8 times that night and not slept for more than half an hour. I knew that she’d be seething in bed right now.

I had no choice and continued to fight my way through the darkness, switching on the fan above the door leading to the bathroom, and closing the door behind me. In the shower, I quietly contemplated my day ahead, remembering that I had a full book of eight clients. My adrenaline started to pump, and my heart and brain raced with thoughts.

I was going to give this Saturday absolutely everything.

I finished my shower, did my hair, sprayed on some deodorant and brushed my teeth…and then my heart sank. I remembered that, yet again, I had to get dressed in the dark so not to wake Jacob up.

The cot was blocking my wardrobe door in our tiny bedroom. I scraped some clothes up off the floor and dressed. Making my way downstairs the hallway light lit the way and, passing the hallway mirror, I realised my shirt was not only on inside-out but also back-to-front. As I rushed to change my shirt round, I realised that I was already ten minutes late…I grabbed an appleand filled my water bottle, scrabbled for my bag and keys and headed for the front door to begin my one-hour commute to the golf course.

Rounding the corner onto the driveway, I spotted my car, heavily frosted. During the five minutes rushing around the car, frantically spraying de-icer and scraping ice off the windscreen with my credit card, I thought to myself, “I wish that one day I could get up at a sensible bloody time, and have breakfast with my family before going to work!”

As the car spluttered into life, I remembered that my spiked shoes were still inside; still dirty from yesterday having not had time to clean them the evening before. As I opened the door to the house, I could hear little Jacob stirring upstairs, and then Susan’s heavy footsteps getting out of bed. I wanted to go and give her a hug and deal with Jacob, so that Susan could have a lie-in…but I was now late for work so I snuck quietly back out of the house.

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I was supporting my family by way of Driving Force, my golf coaching business; getting out there and getting my hands dirty earning money and working incredibly hard. I had sacrificed friendships and given up my own time. Most days I questioned whether it was worth it.

I’d barely had time to speak to Susan during the past week. I felt the only way to make more money was to offer more lessons, which meant I’d spent seven days solid on the golf course. Not only that, but the other pro had been off sick for three days, so I had to double up my lessons.

Having worked 13 days out of the last two weeks, had no real holiday to speak of in six months, and always struggling with money, I was considering jacking it in. Susan had tried to put some shopping on the joint account yesterday, but the payment was declined. She was mortified and came home fuming that evening. She didn’t speak to me at all, not even to say, “Good night!”

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The traffic was heavier than normal. I could see the lights of the cars and the lorries stretching ahead, queuing up to the motorway. Thinking to myself, “I’m never going to get there on time?” my thoughts turned to the manager of the course, who would likely give me grief for being late. How is it possible to get up at 5 a.m. and still be late for work? I could feel my anxiety levels rising.

My mind started to wonder, what if I had a regular job? It wouldn’t be what I loved doing, but that’s ok, right? What if I just had a normal job which paid me a regular salary, which is in my account every month?”

I could go to work at 9 a.m. and leave work at 5 p.m. as everybody else does.

And then I remembered…

I used to do that, and it was never nine to five. My boss always wanted another pound of flesh. Most days I was leaving at 7 a.m. and not getting home until 7 p.m..

It can’t carry on like this. Me, doing the same thing day in day out when things weren’t getting any better. I had to change something, now, but what?

Whether you work for yourself or someone else; whether you work in an office or outdoors; it makes absolutely no difference. My daydream had come full circle, and I realised I am one of the lucky few who gets to pursue my passion and do a job I love. Despite the fact some of my clients are an absolute pain in the backside, 80% of them are fantastic. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought to myself, if I could do something about that other 20%?

But what?

I had to turn up and hope the eight people who had booked lessons today were going to show up on time…or at all. Lo and- behold I felt my heart sink as my phone buzzed twice and a text message arrived. When a message arrived between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. it was from one of two people; Susan, wishing me luck for the day ahead, or one of my clients cancelling their lesson. The traffic was static, so I glanced at my iWatch and could see:

“Hey Russ, really sorry mate, can’t make it. Hope that’s not a problem. See you next week. Thanks, Jez.”

Jeremy was my first client of the day…well, not anymore.

I had been looking forward to working with Jeremy. He had a good swing and didn’t have a bad game. However, for the last three weeks, Jeremy had sent the same message cancelling his lesson at the last minute. Jeremy even booked the 7 a.m. appointment so he could get a lesson in before work.

I collected payments after lessons; this meant I was already down £25 before getting into work. The arrangement I had signed with the owner of the course meant that I had to pay a fixed fee for each lesson booked, regardless of whether the client turned up, so this was now costing me money.

The main reason for setting up Driving Force in the first place was to help as many people as possible to improve their golf game, and making a difference in their lives. I know how much people love playing golf, being outdoors, and being able to take a break from their work and family. My clients need the time out to unwind from a stressful week.

Not only did I not know what to do about Jeremy not turning up, I knew that it would also reflect poorly on me. Jeremy would be out on the course with his friends, and his game wouldn’t be improving. His friends would ask, “Jez, don’t you have golf lessons? Your teacher can’t be that good.”

As I pulled the car onto the golf course, I could see a shimmer of frost and wondered what I was going to do for the next hour. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending the first hour of the day tidying the pro shop instead of delivering a lesson. Just like the last three Saturdays.

Another message pinged through on my phone; this time from Susan!

“Morning, my darling, hope you got into the office ok. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you and how proud I am for you sticking at this golf thing. Can’t wait to see you later xx.”