Freedom in the Fallout.

I blinked the other day and realised November had dragged me through so many twists and turns that my head still feels like it is doing laps. Moving house twice in one month? It is NOT for the faint of heart I tell you. In fact, if there was ever a sport for stubborn optimism and lower back endurance, that would be it! I’m convinced the only reason I survived is because adrenaline was too embarrassed to abandon me mid-chaos.

Now, slowly, I am crawling back into some kind of rhythm, brushing the dust off my words, reclaiming my brain from logistical mayhem, and trying to remember what “normal” even felt like before boxes became my décor style. It feels like I have been absent for ages, drifting somewhere between exhaustion and stubborn hope, so showing up here again almost feels like returning to my own voice.

And to be fair, I owe an explanation for my disappearing act. The simplest version? I was marching straight into something my entire body knew was wrong. You know that relentless whisper in the back of your mind that politely suggests you're being an idiot, and then, when ignored, upgrades to a full gastrointestinal protest? Ja, that one. I tried to silence it, but the universe had other plans… which shook loose the last screws holding my comfort zone together. In true dramatic fashion, life didn’t just tap me on the shoulder, it flung a whole sh!tstorm at me like, “Sweetheart, NO. This way. Try again.”

So I rerouted. And wow, what a trek. I have spent this past month being tossed between discomfort, revelation, and the occasional meltdown over where I packed the kettle. But somewhere in all that uncertainty, I found something I genuinely didn’t expect: relief. A weird, almost rebellious kind of liberation.

Because as it turns out, when life strips away what was never meant for you, it also loosens the grip of the fears you’ve been dragging behind you for years. Healing, as it turns out, is not the serene spa journey Instagram implies. It is nothing short of brutal and VERY awakening!!!. And there is also something magnificently exhilarating about it too. Something that feels a lot like stepping into your own skin for the first time.

I keep thinking back to the way my last chapter ended, that shower gel saga and how I then tried to walk into the next phase by making myself small. Shrinking. Smoothing my edges to fit into spaces that were never built for me.

And naturally, because the universe has a dark sense of humour, I walked myself straight into the storm I had been running from for years. Had to stare down the last of my fears. Had to face some truths I’d been filing under “later” since forever. And then… I walked out of it in manner messier and more heart breaking than I could ever have imagined!

And now? Now I’m choosing myself (yes, I know I have said this before) not out of stubbornness, not out of defiance, but because alignment finally feels louder than fear. I don’t have the whole roadmap. I don’t know exactly where we will land. But there’s something about the unknown that finally feels like possibility instead of punishment. Mystery, adventure, a bit of chaos, they’re not threats anymore. They’re invitations.

No more folding myself in half to make others comfortable. No more tiptoeing around the insecurities of people who should have been cheering louder than anyone. No more disguising fear as loyalty. Now, It’s just me, my son, our furry four-legged child, and a world that feels curiously welcoming despite everything we have just walked through. And if there’s one thing this whirlwind has carved into me, it’s this:

Sometimes you only find the right path after the wrong one spits you out, and that moment, that breath, when you finally choose yourself… changes everything.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” - Anaïs Nin