This weekend I barely moved from my sofa. I watched a LOT of TV (Quantico, an old series on Disney, if you’re asking), ate crisps, popcorn and sweets, and switched off. Apart from some lovely messages from friends and clients, I was quite isolated, and I was ok with that. But as I went to bed, I found myself thinking how different that is from the life Mum lived. Mum liked going out and about; she liked doing things and being part of life. I like that too; this isn’t about wanting to burn down the life I’ve created. I love far too much of it. But I do think I want to change some of the “rules”. My self-imposed rules, btw!
I’ve been thinking about the last 20 years, and to begin with, I thought I’d spent them building. I’ve built a business, expanded it, diversified, created a home I love and a degree of financial security. I’ve had ideas, followed them and created new things. But, alongside that, I’ve been braced, protecting and holding things together. Making sure the girls were okay, making sure the business was safe, making sure I kept things together and, more recently, making sure Mum was ok.
Dementia added a whole new level. There was the denial, the worry, the appointments, the decisions, the deterioration, the care and all the practicalities, alongside that weird experience of gradually losing Mum while she was still here. There was always something to deal with, think about or keep an eye on.
And now, there isn’t. Well, not in the same way. The girls are grown women building their own lives, and they’re doing great! Mum has gone. That underlying feeling of responsibility I’ve carried for so long feels different. Nobody needs me to hold everything together in quite the same way. To be honest, I don’t really know what to do with that yet.
You’d think it would feel like freedom, and maybe it will eventually. Right now it feels more like a blank page, and I’ve always found a blank page unsettling. What do I write? How does it look? Which pen do I even use?
A friend said something to me this week that made sense. She wondered whether some of the exhaustion I’m feeling now isn’t just about losing Mum, but about everything that came before it. I don’t know whether that’s what’s happening, but I do know that I’m tired in a way that sleep doesn’t really seem to fix.
I’m very good at dealing with things. Give me a problem, and I’ll work out what needs doing. Give me an idea, and there’s a fairly good chance I’ll start turning it into something. But there’s no crisis to manage. I don’t have much appetite for building something new right now. For the first time in a very long time, I can pretty much please myself.
And that’s a much stranger feeling than I expected it to be.
Because a blank page can be anything. That’s the exciting bit, but it’s also the scary bit. When so much of your life has been shaped by what needs doing, who needs you and what needs protecting, there’s a weird security in knowing what comes next. Even when it’s difficult, I’m used to coping.
Suddenly everything has shifted, and I can choose. I can work differently. I can spend my time differently. I can change the rules. I can decide what matters now.
Maybe that’s why I’m craving home so much at the moment. My home is safe, familiar, and full of things I love. I can be here with my pets, potter about, read, watch far too much television if I want to and not have to decide what the rest of my life looks like while I’m doing it. Perhaps being at home isn’t me withdrawing from life. Maybe it’s somewhere familiar when everything else feels a bit upended.
All summer, I’ve been coming back to the idea of a simpler life. I don’t want my world to shrink. I want my family and friends, my clients and my work. I want experiences, beautiful things, interesting convos, trips, laughter and all the ordinary moments in between. My clients gave me so much joy last week, and I want more of that.
Perhaps the difference is that for a long time I’ve been living with an underlying question of, “What do I need to do?”
Now I get to ask, “What do I want to do?”
And I’m not sure I know the answer!
I know what I want less of – rushing, a crammed diary, feeling obligated. Fewer rules I’ve invented for myself (!) about what I need to produce, achieve or keep up with. I want to notice the seasons, enjoy being at home because I love being at home rather than feeling I ought to be somewhere else doing something else, and go out because I want to. I want time with the people I love and more of the work that gives me energy rather than doing things simply because I’ve always done them.
Of course, this brings me back to identity! My work is about recognising when you’ve outgrown an old version of yourself. We see it in our clothes all the time. The wardrobe that suited the woman you were ten years ago doesn’t necessarily work for the woman standing there today. We see it in our work, our confidence and how visible we’re prepared to be too. And I think we can also outgrow the rules we’ve created for our lives: the pace we decided we had to live at, the responsibilities we picked up and the expectations we placed on ourselves.
I don’t know what’s going on the blank page yet; I’ve only just been handed it. I don’t need to fill it simply because there’s space.
For now, I need to live in it a little. To notice what gives me energy and what takes it. To enjoy my home, my family and the work that I love. To go out into the world when I want to and sometimes stay in without believing I’ve wasted the day. To notice the seasons and the ordinary Tuesday moments, and stop feeling that every bit of space needs to be filled with something useful.
I don’t want to burn down the life I’ve built. There is far too much of it that I love; I just need to loosen my grip a bit and see how it feels when I stop holding everything quite so tightly.
I’ve only just been handed the blank page. I don’t have to start writing on it immediately.