As I sat in the plane on the tarmac at Fuerteventura airport, my pulse was racing. My left wrist was vibrating as the flower-like animation on my watch got larger and smaller, telling me to inhale and exhale as it did so.
You see, I was supposed to be landing in Lanzarote, but due to the dreamy combination of freakish weather and sea fog, the landing was abandoned at the last minute… Hence the elevated heart rate. A second attempt was made and swiftly cancelled before the pilot landed the plane safely in Fuerteventura.
Unfortunately, when it landed, we weren’t allowed to leave the plane, and so I sat on the tarmac passing time, waiting for the weather to clear or for the pilot to decide what would happen next. In my head, I imagined I’d order some snacks, get comfy in my surprisingly roomy seat, and finish reading my book (Will Smith’s autobiography if you’re curious) but apparently due to safety concerns they weren’t allowed to serve snacks (a devastating blow to my plans) and my mind couldn’t focus on Will’s words.
Instead, it focussed on mine.
Specifically, the last words I wrote on this blog.
The last time I logged into this space I had just spent the year healing from my 11-year relationship ending due to infidelity. My mojo was back, I was 8-months strong into my self-discovery phase and much had changed.
I’d left Chichester, moved to Milton Keynes, threw myself into a branding masterclass, forgiven the past and finally felt like I had found my voice again. I was me. After some intense heartbreak and an abundance of change, I was finally me again. And I had every intention of writing about it, but I didn’t.
Instead, I realised that Milton Keynes wasn’t for me. I restructured my business, took a holiday, started dating and moved to West London—despite knowing only two people in the city.
Then, I took another holiday, made new friends, dated some more, tried new things, ate WAY too much dim sum (hah, that was a test, you failed. There is NO such thing as too much dim sum) and accidentally fell in love.
The bit that comes after that is even more of a whirlwind, and perhaps a story for another time. But it wasn’t until I was there, sat on the tarmac at Fuerteventura airport, unable to move and unable to snack, that I realised just how much had occurred since I wrote that blog post.
And since then life has been so fast-paced I can’t remember all of it. Which, for somebody who started this blog so that she’d be able to remember her life when she was old and forgetful, instead of young and forgetful, is a down-right shame.
But it’s also exactly what I wanted.
I remember there were days in Chichester where I would feel stuck.
Torn between my love for a man and my longing for a more adventurous city life.
And now I don’t have to choose, I have both.
So as I sat there on the tarmac, waiting for an update on when my holiday would officially begin, reminiscing about this incredible life I’ve been blessed with, I made an ode to myself to pick up the metaphorical pen once more and begin blogging again.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m back!