As I write this to you, I’m sitting at the breakfast bar in my Airbnb, in the mountains…
… the one I booked just a few days after my miscarriage (of sorts), because I knew it would help me reset.
I’m sipping Earl Grey tea from the prettiest pink floral mug you ever did see.
All I can hear is birdcall. All I can smell is fresh, crisp, clean mountain air (it sounds so clichéd and yet it’s so true!). All I can see is my very own, private garden… complete with a (grey) picket fence, and a birdbath.
All I’m doing, for the rest of the evening, is running a bath (complete with Epsom salts, red wine, sweet potato chips, and my Kindle), eating dinner on the couch with Netflix (Stranger Things 2), and getting into bed with tea, whenever I decide to.
And all I know, is that I’m really okay. Even though the past few weeks have been quite intense (and physically, quite traumatic, as my body did its thing and healed from the blighted ovum), I’m feeling so energised, and I could scream it from the mountain top that I’m 30 steps away from, but I won’t, because then I’d be disturbing the peace and quiet I came to sit in.
I have already decided, that whenever I next need this, I’ll come back here. I realised actually, that it was about this time three years ago that I also came on a solo retreat to the mountains.
It was during that trip that I made a promise to myself—one I’m only just remembering I made—to go away by myself, once a year, every year, even if it’s just for a day or two.
I’ve done it several times since that trip, but always with a work spin, editing my books (it was also this time last year that I went up to Byron to edit It’s All Good), and travelling for my Love What You Create Workshop and my book tours.
But now I’m making that promise to myself again; a promise to honour what I need, sometimes even before I know I need it.
It’s a promise to allow myself to pause; to fill myself up.
Is there something you need to do for yourself, now, today, this week?
See this, let’s call it supreme self-care, as a promise to yourself; one that’ll help you keep going, even if—or when—things start to feel shaky, or uncertain, or dizzyingly far away.
See it as an invitation to stay on your own path, no matter how many other paths the people around you are taking.
Honour what you need in a way that shows every part of yourself that you’ll do what works for you and not what might work for anyone else.
You also don’t have to reserve your supreme self-care for when you might be feeling flat, or down. It can be something that fills you, and lifts you, always.
Since my year has been reset, I’ve allowed myself to go really slowly. To really do less (and nap more). To step away from setting new goals or planning out new projects (this has been very new to me… I resisted at first, but now I’m settling in, and finding joy in this new flow). To simply let life lead me, heart first.
And I can see that by allowing this, I’m allowing a new path to become clear, even though there is still much that is unknown. In a way, I’m enjoying the ‘not knowing’. I’m enjoying simply being here. And really, we can only ever be exactly where we are.
I’m sitting in the stillness and silence of the in between, and for what might be the first time in my life, I’m sitting in it without looking too far ahead of me; I’m really, truly allowing this.
So even while I sit here, buzzing and pulsing with energy like it’s been given to me intravenously (also known as ‘solo mountain getaway energy’—do you reckon we could bottle this?), I also know that I’m not done with going slowly, just yet.
I know there is more for me to share with you, more for me to create for you (and me), more for me to show up for, and to step into. But I also know that, in many ways, this seems to be a year where I ‘use what I’ve got’.
So that’s what I’m doing right now; slowing right down, enjoying the ‘not knowing’, and using what I’ve got.
When I know more, I’ll share more. Until then, I’ll simply be right… here.