It wasn’t until recently that I started to realise just how quickly things can change.
When we have our monthly all-hands at work, we spend a few minutes updating each other on what’s going on in our work and personal lives.
In the eight months I’ve been working for Cronofy, a lot has changed.
There are many other parts to these stories, but you get the idea.
A lot of shit has gone down.
I often used to spend the new year relenting how little had changed. I’d vow that the year after would be different, but it seldom was.
It wasn’t until 2015 when Nan had a stroke, I hit rock bottom, and I went to a workshop at Nottingham Writer’s Studio that things really began to change.
That’s only two years. But in those two years, I have changed more than I ever could’ve imagined.
I’ve lost friends over it. I haven’t replaced them all, but that’s because past experience has made me guarded. I’ve learnt whom I can trust, though, and that’s more important to me than being surrounded by people.
Those that supported me surprised me. Those that did not surprised me further. It is not always the people you believe to be your closest friends that are there for you in your darkest hour.
There are times when I’ve wanted to change my path in life, when I’ve wished I could be anything but a writer, but the truth is, I am a writer. I always have been. I’ve been a writer for as long as I’ve been a daughter, a granddaughter, a person. I’ve been a writer for longer than I’ve been a girlfriend, a social media addict, or a marketer. Writing is as much of a part of me as breathing.
Writing is like an inhaler for my heart.
When it hurts, writing helps to alleviate the pain.
When it does not hurt, it helps to protect it from breaking.
When things have calmed down and both myself and those around me have decided what to do next I’ll share with you more details about what’s been going on. In the meantime, take care of yourself, and listen to your body. Nobody knows it better than you do.