I always know when it’s time to write, I can’t sleep. I recite paragraphs in my head thinking of where to place line breaks and how my words will read. I haven’t done this since September, apparently, a testament to the pace of the ambivalence that is 2021. 

I often think about the phrase “happiest I’ve ever been” and whether it can truly be used at any point in one’s life. For the first time in mine, I believe it can. I’ve found a way to appreciate the good without fearing when my luck will run out, something I never considered myself capable. Of course, there are the days when I’m a fugitive or an orphan, terminally ill or universally hated. A collection of my worst fears that can only be categorised as one thing. Anxiety.  

An insomniac from a young age, I’ve recently found peace in slumber, save for the recurring dreams (nightmares) where I’m transported back to a certain previous job or relationship. It reeks of unresolved trauma. I guess there’s always work to do.    

Despite being close to 20kgs heavier (thank you London living), I feel a lightness within my body. I see now how my previous self-hatred had seeped into every pocket of my universe, poisoned sandbags destined for the seafloor. No matter how skilled a lifeguard, they can’t free dead weight. I had to cut those sandbags loose to swim to the surface. And I did. 

It doesn’t feel accidental this rumination comes shortly behind my second anniversary in London. After two years of transformational virtue and weird sleeping patterns (to put it briefly), I’m towards the pointy end of this journey and I am scared shitless. The last time I felt this way was the eve of my departure from Switzerland, funnily enough, one month before my last post in September. I could feel big change in the air (although at the time I didn’t quite realise to what extent) and I penned the below on a scrap of paper. I’ve kept it all this time and now I know why. 


“I’ve never been good at goodbyes. I start sniffing earlier than needed and my face goes all blotchy. This time feels different. No easier than the others but with a more defined purpose. All good things must come to an end, in order to make way for new goodness and memories. It doesn’t soften the blow of the last squeeze, but it does shine light on the amazingness that was and will be again, in another place, time, shape or form. Change is hard and entirely necessary… ♡” 

1 Comment
  • Deborah Finnigan

    June 21, 2021 at 9:22 pm Reply

    Beautifully written from the heart. This journey has been balm for your soul, now you can emerge like a butterfly. Love you for you

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