Purplemoon Monthly Musings – July- Holding the Line with Kindness

Purplemoon Monthly Musing

Posted 23rd July 2026

Holding The Line With Kindness

Welcome to Purplemoon Monthly Musings.

On the final Wednesday of every month Jenny will be posting out about a theme that has been appearing in her work, or her life, across all sectors. It could be a topic that particularly resonates with you, or it might be a new concept or idea to you. Either way the aim is to give voice to some thoughts, ponder some questions and explore what this might mean to us as individuals and as a community. Jenny will always aim to credit original sources as she explores the musings title and will welcome your comments and contributions to keep the musing going! This blog is also published on LinkedIn. Follow Jenny here.

Welcome to the July monthly musing, published as most of us in England head into the summer holidays

As we move into the summer holiday season here in the UK, I’ve found myself reflecting on something that has been a constant theme in the supervision spaces I’ve been holding this year.

Sometimes it has appeared directly in our conversations. Sometimes it has sat just beneath the surface. But time and again, it seems to come back to the same question:

How do we keep healthy boundaries, particularly when living our values and helping others matters so deeply to us?

As I’ve listened to these conversations, I’ve been reminded that many of us don’t struggle with boundaries because we don’t care. Quite the opposite. We care deeply. We are committed to making a difference. We want to support others well. Yet sometimes those very strengths can make it harder to recognise when our own needs have moved to the bottom of the list.

These conversations have also encouraged me to reflect on my own boundaries. What I’ve realised is that not all boundaries need to be held in the same way. Some of mine are what I think of as soft boundaries. They have a little movement in them. They allow for flexibility and judgement. They can bend when circumstances genuinely call for it. These boundaries recognise that life is messy and that rigidity isn’t always helpful.

Then there are my hard boundaries.

These are the ones that protect my wellbeing and sustainability. They are the boundaries I do my best to maintain because experience has taught me what happens when I don’t.

In fact, as I was writing this, I realised that I haven’t written a Purplemoon Monthly Musing since March. A few years ago, I might have viewed that as something I needed to apologise for or explain away. Instead, I’m noticing my response is different. The last few months have required me to focus my time and energy elsewhere, and maintaining my boundaries has been part of that. Whilst I have missed writing these reflections, I’m also at peace with the choice. Sometimes honouring our boundaries means accepting that not everything can happen at once, even the things we enjoy and value.

One of those hard boundaries is not working at weekends.

It’s not because there isn’t work that could be done. There almost always is. Sometimes I find myself thinking, “If I just spend an hour or two catching up now, next week will feel easier.”

Occasionally, that might even be true.

But I have learned that there will always be another task, another email, another project that could persuade me to sacrifice a little rest today for the promise of an easier tomorrow. The problem is that tomorrow never quite arrives in the way we imagine it will.

What does arrive is Monday, and a quiet expectation that I can continue giving from a well that I’ve not allowed myself time to refill.

Keeping boundaries is rarely about convenience. If they were easy to keep, they probably wouldn’t need to be boundaries at all.

There are times when holding a boundary feels uncomfortable. We worry about letting people down. We feel guilty. We question ourselves. We wonder whether we are being selfish.

This is where I’ve been learning the importance of a compassionate inner voice.

That voice reminds me that a boundary is not a rejection. It is not a sign that I don’t care.

Quite the opposite.

A healthy boundary acknowledges that my needs matter too. It recognises that being consistently available is not the same as being consistently effective. It understands that rest is not a reward for finishing everything; it’s a necessity for being able to continue.

When my inner critic tells me that I should do more, stay later, answer one more message or give up a weekend, I am trying to meet that voice with kindness rather than criticism.

I remind myself that sustainable helping requires sustainable habits.

The people I support deserve the best version of me, not the most exhausted one.

Perhaps that is the invitation this month.

As summer unfolds and perhaps offers a little more space for rest and reflection, consider your own boundaries. Which are your soft boundaries; those that can flex when needed? Which are your hard boundaries; the ones that protect what matters most?

And when those boundaries feel difficult to maintain, can you speak to yourself with the same compassion that you would offer to someone else?

Because boundaries are not barriers to caring.

Sometimes they are the very thing that allows us to keep caring, for the long term.

As always, I hope you find moments this summer to pause, breathe and be gentle with yourself. The work we do matters. So do we.

Purplemoon Monthly Musings – March- Educator Wellbeing: How Quiet Satisfaction Supports Sustainable Practice

Purplemoon Monthly Musing

Posted 31st March 2026

How Quiet Satisfaction Supports Sustainable Practice

Welcome to Purplemoon Monthly Musings.

On the final Wednesday of every month Jenny will be posting out about a theme that has been appearing in her work, or her life, across all sectors. It could be a topic that particularly resonates with you, or it might be a new concept or idea to you. Either way the aim is to give voice to some thoughts, ponder some questions and explore what this might mean to us as individuals and as a community. Jenny will always aim to credit original sources as she explores the musings title and will welcome your comments and contributions to keep the musing going! This blog is also published on LinkedIn. Follow Jenny here.

Welcome to the March monthly musing, published on a Tuesday as we head into Easter holidays!

 

There’s a particular kind of moment that I really enjoy exploring in the supervision space.
It isn’t dazzling. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t ask to be celebrated.

It’s that quiet exhale; the subtle sense of I did something meaningful today.
Not perfect. Not extraordinary. Just quietly, deeply satisfying.

As educators in the UK, our working lives are filled with the idea of endless improvement: constant noise, moving on to the next thing, and focusing on the “even better ifs…”.

Then, when we’re asked to share something great,  a moment of joy, we are quite often brought to a sudden stop.
The default position is: “A what?”

Sometimes I see almost a flicker of panic in my supervisees’ faces as they try to pull a big, celebratory, major step forward from their memory banks.

 

However, when I ask them to tell me something that has brought them quiet satisfaction, a sense of a job well done, the shift is remarkable. Quite often I see deep thinking, shoulders dropping, a small smile… and then they share something.

This may be a quieter emotion, often overlooked, yet when brought into the space it can be deeply telling of where the supervisee is right now in their professional persona. And when encouraged to reflect on it daily, it can be profoundly sustaining for wellbeing, because it offers a grounded, stable moment of alignment between your effort and your purpose.

So, what could be a moment of quiet satisfaction?

Perhaps when:

  • You’ve had a calm, respectful conversation with a learner who usually finds connection difficult.
  • A parent leaves a meeting feeling heard rather than hurried.
  • A respectful conversation has occurred where everyone agrees clear next steps that will benefit all parties.
  • You finally complete that piece of paperwork that’s been silently sitting on your desk, accusingly, for weeks.
  • You notice a pupil mastering a skill not because of a grand intervention, but because of steady, intentional nudges from caring adults.
  • You end the day knowing you stayed true to your values, even when the system around you felt rushed.
  • You see a colleague putting a process in place that you have encouraged, and you see that they can see it has worked.

For leaders, these moments can be the most powerful of all. Joy can be fleeting, reactive, momentary. But quiet satisfaction often holds something deeper: continuity. A sense of slow, steady impact that accumulates over time. A sense that something is being embedded into culture and expectation, and therefore making a difference.

For leaders, it is also how we can recognise the impact we are having on learners and on the community. When we see others excelling, when systems we have built are working, there is a profound sense of purpose.

In emotionally demanding roles, this kind of satisfaction can be more nourishing than joy because:

  • It doesn’t require external validation.
  • It isn’t dependent on others responding in a particular way.
  • It anchors you, rather than lifting you into a high that may not last.
  • It reconnects you to the “why” behind the “what”.

This is not me saying “ignore the joy.” Quite the opposite. When I’m in a session and we explore what has brought quiet satisfaction to someone’s week or month, what usually follows is the declaration of a moment of joy.

Joy gives us a real hit of good hormones, and reliving that moment, sharing it with others, even “shouting it from the rooftops,’’ supports belonging, positive culture, and shifts in mindset. But joy is not always long-term or sustaining, and on a tough day or week it can be hard to spot.

Quiet satisfaction, however, is almost always there. Every day, there is something to be proud of or satisfied of, even if it is simply: “I stuck to my values,” or “I held that boundary.”

It is vital that alongside celebrating the moments of joy and feeling that big high, we also recognise the subtle, steady satisfaction that can sustain us through the academic year.

Quiet satisfaction is wisdom’s joy.
It’s the moment your soul nods and says, Yes, this mattered.

Your work is full of these small, powerful moments. Make sure you notice, and feel them.