My life has certainly been far from boring. And yet, somehow, I have got to a place where I would love nothing more than structure, stability, and a permanent cupboard to put my clothing in. And yet, once again, I have packed everything up into the same suitcases, stood at passport control, withstood the uncomfortable economy class seat, and find myself in a very foreign part of the world.

PSA: If emotional depth scares you, stop reading NOW!

For the last 4 months, I have sat with myself and every single emotion under the sun. I am slowly starting to understand who I really am and why I am here. And I am praying for a deeper understanding every day. I have realised that for so long, I have hidden my essence underneath a mask of survival, strength, and people pleasing. The desire to be loved and chosen has been stronger than the desire to protect and love myself. And so, I have sat in anguish trying to understand what the F**K it means to love myself and why I find it so hard.

The questions that came up in my mind: Who is the “self”? What is the action of love? How do I love myself if I cannot truly understand who I am? And why do people find it so easy to throw around these statements that I bet they have very rarely examined? In some ways I am grateful to my ex for plunging me into the darkness and for throwing me into some of the worst pain I have ever faced. In fact, he was just the mirror, it was all there for me to see, but I needed the trigger, I needed something to force me to strip back the layers. And his avoidance was the ultimate trigger for my pain to take over.

My break up had not only been the end of a relationship, it had been the shattering of a 5 year plan around the world (which had taken time for me to get my head around), the dream of marriage, children, giving up my old career, selling my furniture, giving up my storage space and any “back up plan” (as he called it). It had been the realisation that I was coming back home to a completely blank canvas, at 38. Why do I find it so hard to find requited love? Was the question ringing through me.

Throughout this time, I dedicated long walks, hours of seated meditation, journaling, breathwork, and a heap of therapy to gain a deeper understanding. And honestly, just to cope with these deep waves of grief that would sweep through me. I chose, mostly, to work with modalities that got me into my body and out of my head – TRE, breathwork, family constellations, and meditation. I have such a strong mind, and it does not always work for me. Infact, even though I have found a far deeper heart connection, I still am amazed at how my mind plays games. The only thing that felt like it would ease the pain was gaining understanding from him and why he was finding it so easy to walk away from us.

For the first 6 weeks, my nervous system was so dysregulated that I was shaking all the time. I was unable to sleep, and my food intake was minimal. I was trying to go to yoga and do some of my “normal” activities, but every time I tried, I would land up in a heap of tears. One of these particular moments, I found myself in floods of tears after an incredible yoga class. I waited for everyone to leave and then tried to sneak out as quietly as I could. However, Kim, one of our padel players, was in the change room. She saw me and straight away pulled me into a hug. My entire body crumbled. I wept so deepily, I felt like I was never going to stop. She held such a safe space for me and then very kindly offered her home for me to come and do TRE with her.

This was the start of a very beautiful friendship and also a sincere space where I could share and let my body let go. Kim held space for me twice a week for about 3 weeks, until I could function with a bit less interruption. The body is incredible, the depth to which I was shaking, was showing me how much pain I had been holding on to. Not just from this breakup, but from a lifetime of suppressing things below the surface. How many of my readers can attest to this? Or are you even aware that this could be your truth?