A new home !

A New Start (At 49)

My new start has officially begun.

I moved house last week and it’s been epic.

First and foremost, I had some really wonderful people help me. A fair few from the yoga community, some long-standing friends who have been absolute legends, and some relatively new people in my life who went far beyond anything I would have expected. Truthfully, I had no expectation of help at all.

As someone who has always been hyper-independent, I’ve only just started learning how to say yes to support.

And people have amazed me.

If you had asked me a few years ago whether I’d be here moving into my own home at 49, divorced, and childless (not by choice) I would have said, no way. This isn’t the everyday path. And along with that comes moments of confusion, despair, worry, heartache, grief, fear… all of it.

Learning to self-regulate while living alone has been my biggest battle.

But something has shifted this past week. I feel like I might finally be turning a corner.

In my last blog, I shared how I’d been experiencing episodes of intense anger. I was snappy, short-tempered, and yes there were a couple of casualties along the way. I’m a yoga teacher, I know… I’m supposed to be “zen.” But I don’t get it right all the time. Far from it.

As it turns out, getting HRT patches has been a game changer. No one really tells you just how intense the brain fog can be during this phase of life. For those who have been through it I truly applaud you. For those approaching it, I cannot recommend enough that you seek the support you need.

I genuinely thought there was something seriously wrong with me over the past few months.

It turns out, it was a hormone imbalance.

And maybe just maybe this whole divorce is tied into that deeper shift too. I think as women we reach a certain point where we realise we don’t want to live the way we have been living anymore.

That’s what happened to me.

I couldn’t see my way forward in the life I had. And it wasn’t a bad life. It was comfortable. Affluent. I was incredibly fortunate in many ways.

But I didn’t want it anymore.

So I left. Well that and a whole host of other reasons.

Driving away last May in a camper van, with three boxes and three dogs, was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made but also the best decision I’ve ever made for myself.

For the first time in my life, I stopped worrying about what anyone else thought of me.

That choice came at a cost.

There have been casualties, friendships, family connections. Last year, I withdrew. I didn’t communicate well. At times, I was rude. I stopped speaking to people who had been there for me for years.

This year so far has been about repair. Much needed repair. Firstly my own self repair. Then some really hard, honest and difficult conversations with people who probably should have told me to do one ! Thankfully they have forgiven me and I am really happy they have remained.

It’s been one of the biggest learning curves of my life.

I’ve been on a healing and spiritual path for a long time, but I’ve realised there is still so much I haven’t dealt with. And the more self-aware you become, the deeper that work goes.

Recently, I made the decision to step away from training as a therapist.

I don’t want to heal anyone anymore.

I don’t want to hold the belief that I am responsible for anyone else’s healing.

I love teaching yoga. I love being on the mat. But now, I’m choosing to create more space for my own life.

Because I haven’t done that enough.

For most of my life, I’ve placed myself at the bottom of the ladder.

Now, I’m learning to move myself towards the top.

I’ve started new hobbies a kayaking club, a running club. I’ve been going to the Buddhist centre, which has been incredibly supportive. I’ve returned to working with my counsellor and she is making me dig deep right into those crevices that I really do not wish to look in to! Ooof !

All of these things are helping me build new connections, new perspectives, and a new version of myself.

There was nothing wrong with the woman I was.

But I’m not her anymore.

When you lose the identity of being a wife and come to terms with the reality that you will never be a mother you’re left with a big question:

What does life look like now?

I spend a lot of time on my own. Not because I don’t have people around me but because I choose to.

I like solitude.

I like peace.

That hasn’t always been easy. Over the past year, I’ve struggled deeply with that alone time. But I feel like I’m beginning to turn a corner with it.

There is something important in learning how to be alone.

When you don’t have children or a partner there is a lot of space.

But I’m starting to feel grateful for that space.

Grateful for the freedom.

Grateful that I get to choose, every single day, what my life looks like.

Lately, I’ve been waking up in my new home with my three dogs. Slow mornings. Coffee in hand. Maybe a toasted crumpet. Sitting quietly, looking out over the garden.

And I feel calm.

A kind of calm I haven’t felt in a long time.

A quiet knowing that everything is going to be okay.

That things are unfolding exactly as they should.

That I can trust the timing of my life again.

Leaving required a huge amount of surrender. I had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side.

And yet I’ve built something.

A home.

From scratch.

With help, yes but also through my own strength.

I’ve chosen a simpler life now. Minimal. Intentional. I don’t want the excess anymore. I’ve come from a very material, abundant lifestyle, and I’m consciously moving in the opposite direction.

I feel settled.

There are still boxes to unpack. A garage full of things to sort through and pass on. But I’ve cleared out so much, physically and emotionally.

I am in a space where I am evolving and learning what I like again, what I enjoy and asking myself what aligns.

And I don’t quite know who this new version of me is yet.

I don’t know what she looks like, or exactly where she’s going.

But right now, I’m here.

Landing.

Being.

Breathing.

And for the first time in a long time

that feels like enough.