On this day, six years ago, I sat at my computer and wrote my very first blog post. I remember doing it so clearly. It was a time in my life when I was still smoking, still drinking too much wine, still grieving. It’s one of the best things I have ever done for myself. It started all of this…
For the last six weeks I’ve been teaching Blogging from the Heart, and as I’ve encouraged my wonderful students to share more and more of themselves on their blogs, I’ve been feeling the urge to do the same. That was how I started on April 12th 2006 with a basic Blogger blog and the desire to share. So much of my healing work has happened in this space, sharing my thoughts and feelings as I figured out how to navigate a world that had changed beyond all recognition. And i remember thinking how much “easier” life would be once I’d “moved through” my grief, not knowing that that was just the beginning. That’s why I bang on about unravelling being a lifelong thing we do — peeling back the layers, growing new ones, enriching our understanding of ourselves and our lives. There is always more to learn and experience. New loves to find, old loves to kiss goodbye. Discoveries to be made alone and in relationship with others. The past to excavate. The future to manifest.
It’s the fourth month of the year and I’m discovering if you put a request out to the universe you will get opportunities to test exactly how brave you really are. Things will happen to prepare you for what’s coming down the line. There’s some strange kind of magic happening that first started back when Noah was born. I can feel it around me and it’s uncomfortable at times, but I also know I asked for this. For growth and change. For forward movement. For more.
I’ve been released from my cocoon and now I’m ready for the next adventure. I’m going out every morning to walk round the park, coming home sweaty to lift weights and do stretches. I’m driving better and more confidently with every lesson — I don’t even recogise myself these days. I feel like a tween, stuck in that in-between stage of the before and after, knowing I am about to fly and impatient for my wings to dry.
I keep telling myself it’s all to play for, and then I look for where I left my invisible crown. Damn thing keeps falling off.
Thank you for accompanying me on this ride for the last six years. This space means more to me than I can put into words.