The Quiet Turning

Seven days have passed since I left my old life behind and took a tentative step towards the new.

I arrived in Wales accompanied by driving rain, howling wind and a growing sense of uncertainty. By the time I had carried my few belongings from the car to the cabin, I was soaked through, cold, tired and quietly questioning my recent life choices.

A few hours after arriving, I climbed into bed, wrapped myself in a familiar blanket and listened to the weather battering the little hut. Everything that had felt so certain from a distance suddenly seemed far less clear. The life I had spent months imagining was now real, and I was sitting right in the middle of it.

I felt adrift, but not in a way that made me reach desperately for an anchor. It was more the feeling of being between shores. The familiar coastline had disappeared behind me, yet the shape of the new one had not fully emerged. There was uncertainty, certainly, but there was also freedom. Space to breathe. Space to listen. Space to see what might emerge if I stopped trying to control every step.

A week later, the rain still comes and goes, the wind continues to make its presence known, and I am still finding my feet. Yet something has shifted. The discomfort of leaving is slowly giving way to the possibility of arriving.

I have not found all the answers. I am not even sure I have found the right questions yet. But for now, that feels enough.

Below is something that came my way today, and I wanted to share:

“There are women standing at the edge of a forest,

With an old life behind them and a future they cannot yet name.

The path is hidden.

The map is gone.

Yet something ancient in their bones already knows.

Some endings arrive as grief.

Others arrive as a quiet knowing that the woman who began the journey will not be the same woman who finishes it”.