New Decade Pending

Hello, blog – it’s been a minute!

Life’s funny, isn’t it? Sometimes it feels like everything slows to a crawl and you get all reflective and deep… other times it’s like someone hit fast forward and you’re just holding on for dear life.

So where am I now? Back in the flow of this thing called "normal life" (whatever that means). Work's happening, I’m seeing my favourite people, sneaking in holidays with my sisters, and I trained for and finished my first sprint triathlon!

While it’s been amazing to do all of this, I’ve definitely been moving through it with a whole new perspective. A deeper appreciation for everything. A bit more “yes” to what lights me up, and “no thanks” to what doesn’t.

Of course, cancer doesn’t exactly pack its bags and leave your life once you get the ‘all clear’. It lingers. Sometimes it’s a weird twinge or ache that instantly makes you spiral. Sometimes it’s watching someone else go through something similar and it hits way too close to home. It doesn’t go away. And I’m learning that’s okay. It’s part of the story now, part of me. Doesn’t define me, but it definitely shaped me.

So… I turn 30 tomorrow (!) and I felt like I had to pop in and leave a little note here. Because if I look back at 21-year-old me – fresh out of uni, diving headfirst into a new job, convinced accountancy exams were the biggest mountain I’d ever climb – I could never have imagined what the next decade had in store.

By 28, I’d ticked off the London Marathon, danced at hen dos, progressed in my career – and then got hit with a bowel cancer diagnosis that flipped my whole world upside down.

And yet… looking at myself now, two years post-diagnosis – I genuinely love this version of me the most. I’m stronger and braver. I know how to set boundaries, trust my gut, and cheer myself on when things get tough. I push myself more, but I also give myself grace.

I’ve got another operation coming up this year, one that’s going to leave a more permanent mark than the others – but I trust myself to handle it. To feel it all. To grieve what’s been lost while still moving forward.

But first: I’m raising a glass to the last decade. It wasn’t what I expected – but it made me who I am.