Thirty-Two

I am not here to endure, but to enjoy.

Dear ones,

I’d hoped to return to this space to tell you I’ve been wintering well. And I suppose I have – my children and I were fortunate enough to savour one last Christmas nestled within the four walls that held us safe for almost four years.

Despite my desire for it to stretch out slowly, one year exploded into the next with such force that I was catapulted into constant action. I planned as much as I could under the circumstances. I packed up pretty much all of our belongings in a handful of days. I cleaned the home we were preparing to leave until it was sparkling. I walked away from an unprecedented season of uncertainty with my head held high.

This time two months ago I had no idea where we would end up, we were facing the threat of homelessness and the anxiety that it provoked in me was the most intense I’ve experienced in my entire life. And yet, by some miracle, I’m writing this letter to you just minutes into my thirty second birthday from the comfort of our new home.

I can’t even find the words to describe what a relief it is to feel rooted again.

This isn’t the home I would have chosen, to begin with I couldn’t see the possibilities it held. But I now believe with every fibre of my being that it is exactly where we are meant to be. Until we arrived here, I had completely forgotten how freeing it is to be given the opportunity to exist somewhere new. At night here it is almost silent, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of being able to step outside at any hour, plant my bare feet in the earth and stare up at the stars in awe.

Somehow, in just two short weeks, I’ve embedded myself here in ways I have never had the audacity to before. I have invested money, care and intention into my surroundings, and I am slowly grounding into my sense of purpose once again.

Despite the challenges of the past two years – and there have been many – the beginning of this decade of my life has felt deeply fulfilling. Yes, it has tested my mettle in ways I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Yes, it has forced me to face up to some very uncomfortable truths. And yes, it has shown me the repercussions and resentments that arise if I cannot communicate my expectations of respect and consideration from others.

So far, my thirties have polished my sense of self whilst providing plenty of psychic spaciousness to slip into and out of the skins of the women I am yet to become. I am raw and radiant all at once and far more willing to let myself be buoyed by joy and irreverence than ever before.

This year I want to remember that I am not here to endure, but to enjoy.

I’ve written at length about heartbreak – or more specifically the suffering borne from believing that only the person who tore you apart can stitch you back together. I’m beyond grateful for all those words, without them I’m not sure I would ever have figured out that the needle and thread were in my own hands all along.

But the truth is I’m ready for something different. Something a little bit rough around the edges. I want to take myself and this space a little less seriously, to bring a lightness to my writing that I’ve been missing. This year I’m giving myself permission to play. I hope you’ll stick around while I’m figuring it all out…

Here’s to thirty-two.

With Love,

Laura x

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