45: Loving yourself is necessary!

Today is my 45th birthday.

It's been a really tricky year. I'd use a stronger word, but for now I'll keep it PG.

This year, I've had to completely rebuild my foundations.

I've learned so much about myself, about healing, and about the expectations we place on ourselves and others when it comes to recovery. We seem to think healing should follow some kind of self-help handbook: write the lists, tick the boxes, follow the steps.

I have never been very good at tick-box exercises. Once I received a £2,000 penalty because of my inability to check things off properly. I think they call that ADHD tax.

Anyway, I digress.

I've always been more of a "suck it and see" kind of girl. It's both a blessing and a curse. I'm full of colour, wonder and empathy, with huge amounts of mystery still left to uncover. I've been told that makes me magnetic, an enigma even.

But I'm also an overthinker.

I care deeply about how I'm viewed, and I can be left utterly depleted when I give all of myself and feel rejected. I now understand that some of this comes from ADHD, some from childhood trauma, and some from years of surviving rather than thriving.

You see, I live and love with all my heart, but I hold so much of it inside. Unless I tell you, it's hard for you to see, hear or feel my pain.

Over the last year, astrology has been the focus of my thirst for knowledge . It's helped me navigate what can only be described as an absolute shit show of a year.

In the space of twelve months, I experienced

The loss of a relationship

My children moving out and on with their lives (very successfully, of course)

Reliving old trauma

Losing my home

Losing friends

Leaving a job because of a relationship breakdown

Moving home, county and village three times in six months

Being homeless for an entire month, I am still really.

Journeying through menopause.

But in the last 12 months I have also

Started a business based on trauma responsive coaching, reiki healing and writing my truth.

During all my time alone, I realised something.

I sit with discomfort remarkably well.

What I didn't notice was that, slowly, I was disappearing. The light that had already begun to dim in my relationship was almost completely extinguished.

Then life threw me another curveball. I was asked to stand for the Green Party.

It was a decision that had to be made quickly. My plan had been to travel, breathe, and return to politics and activism afterwards. But I said yes.

It wasn't an easy decision. I'd left Labour within the previous year, and that experience had changed the direction of my life in ways I'm still unpacking. That journey deserves a blog of its own.

Returning to Plymouth brought old wounds to the surface, along with some very recent ones. Suddenly I was visible again, and with visibility comes vulnerability.

It was tough.

My fibromyalgia, which had been relatively quiet, began to flare. My anxiety returned. Yet at the same time I had started to forgive myself. I'd even started to forgive my ex.

I realised that what I needed to overcome wasn't the loss of the connection itself. It was the rejection. That understanding left me wide open to further pain.

Meeting up again became an emotional rollercoaster, one I'll write about another time. But it triggered something deeper. I learned yearning for love and my need to be loved are not always the same thing.

Yet amongst all of this, I found my tribe.

I found people with whom I can be entirely myself. People who celebrate my quirks rather than tolerate them. People who don't ask me to be smaller.

I've booked a solo journey around Europe, visiting places that never made the itinerary when I travelled with others. I'm going alone.

And if I'm brutally honest, I'm completely terrified.

But my greatest awakening was that. I need to love myself. The kindness I show myself is directly connected to what I can genuinely give to others. I've spent my whole life pushing myself to succeed. I've achieved a great deal and still have ambitions for the future.

But after a year of loss after loss after loss, I feel as though I've finally found myself.

She's been sitting quietly in the middle of all the chaos, waiting for me to take her hand.

Waiting for me to show her the same wonder, compassion and devotion I've spent years showing everyone else.

And I've apologised to her for keeping her at the back of the line.

So on my 45th birthday, that's my promise.

To put her first.

And for you, I have just one request:

Take the leap.

Don't wait until you're comfortable.

Comfort is often just fear.

I promise that when one door closes, others will open.

Courage is a two-way street. You can walk towards it, or away from it. M many times, if you don’t think about who’s watching. The choice is always yours.

Enjoy the journey.

And remember:

There are very few mistakes in life.

Mostly, there are lessons.

With love,

Me.