about rowdy

what i hardly ever say

2 minute read

Do you hope I reveal a few secrets below? Well, sorry. Instead, here’s what I know to be true about myself but rarely reveal to other people:

I’m a feminist

You see, the folk who shaped my life are all women. My single Mum. My daughters aged 8 and 6. My first boss in superannuation. And my partner, Jessica, who saved me from the frightening jungle of Tinder and online dating. Jessica is an architect who runs her own architectural business when she’s not designing my books or pulling this website together.

And sure, saying ‘feminist’ these days can be like dropping the f-bomb at Sunday Mass. But my idea of feminism isn’t controversial. Rather, it’s stupidly simple. Simply shun the diminishing gender stereotypes—the stereotypes that tell us women should be small, weak and compliant, and men should be dominating, controlling and competitive. And how hard is it to do that, really?

I’m an introvert

I also spend hours in my head, alone with my own thoughts. Jessica and my kids have a word for this, too. Their word is: Phaffing. I phaff when I do nothing but sit around and think for hours and hours. And I love phaffing deeply about topics, whether those topics are in my head, in a deep and meaningful conversation, or with a client in a retirement coaching session.

For instance, if we talk about your job and career with the goal of helping you to craft the emotionally satisfying retired life you want, I don’t want to only know what you do. I want to know how what you do makes you feel useful, like you matter, like you belong to something, and more.

i’m also tribal

After all, we all need to belong to something. And I’m no exception. So what tribe do I belong to—being The Man surrounded by three women?

Is it the tribe embracing the status quo of The Man in charge, where the women are diminished if they question The Man’s authority? The tribe where my kids please me, never disobeying my authority?

Or the tribe that’s connected and loving and exists so all tribe members feel independent, confident and comfortable in their own skin? The tribe where everyone believes in their own value and self worth?

No prizes for guessing my tribe. But what about some prizes for guessing why I’m called Rowdy?

i’m not rowdy

Rowdy Crowther isn’t my real name, after all. Shock horror, right?! Rowdy isn’t the name on my birth certificate, anyway. It’s Iain Crowther. So why do I get called, Rowdy? Well, there’s a story to it, for sure. And believe it or not, this story involves Australia’s witness protection program, me being the life of every party, and two old souls who pretend to eat dog food on TV when I was a wee laddie. Some of which happened, some of which didn’t. But it’s all part of the story of why I’m Rowdy—told on page 93 of my book (which is the last page; it’s not a long book):

You’re now more familiar with me, hopefully. But if you’re still apprehensive about my coaching, don’t fret. Here’s a less scary first step to take: