Wow, can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve written anything of note. Facebook posts, gymnastics programmes and newsletters don’t really count.

My lack of brain dumping in the form of words is in part due to a crazy busy few months but also not really feeling the need to ‘clear my head’. Until now.

When I reflect on when I’ve chosen to write in the past, it has mostly coincided with poignant, often challenging times in my life. I have realised that through ‘getting it down on paper (or screen)’ that I appear to be able to better process my many many thoughts.

It’s been nine months since we said goodbye to our life in Oz and while I like to think I’m somewhat in control of my future and destiny, with more plans and goals than most people have in a lifetime, set for the next 12 months alone, I couldn’t have possibly foreseen all that has happened.

We have certainly tried to live life to full, visiting places we’ve never been, jetting off to Europe, why wouldn’t you when it only takes the same time to fly there as the drive to Melbourne from Albury used to take. We’ve had more visitors that we could have hoped for and we have loved sharing our new life with our Aussie friends, giving them a snap shot of our lives to take back with them.

We’ve spent time with family and Patrick has developed bonds with his cousins that will last a lifetime, just as I did with mine at the same age. I’ve loved being a big sister again and cannot put into words the joy that being around Sarah, daily now we work together, has brought me. I didn’t realise just how much I had missed ‘us’. Even now a happy tear rolls down my face as I am writing. Equally I have enjoyed being able to pop in on mum and dad for a cuppa. There’s nothing quite like time spent with your mum, shopping, afternoon tea as a treat or sitting in the sun; and while they appear to always be tear inducing, mummy hugs are definitely the best.

We’ve spent time with the best and most wonderful, familiar old friends and we have been so lucky to have made many new ones that we are both truly grateful for. It’s definitely true that people come into your life when you least expect it, at the school gates, on holiday, tagged in Facebook posts. People who have helped make the lonely times less lonely and who have made the transition to UK life so much easier.

I was sure I’d struggle to make friends when I moved back but it seems, I was very wrong (not something I’m good at admitting). And as for Patrick, his smile will always light up a room and as biased as I am as his mum, his beautiful nature seems to draw people in, both young and old. Needless to say, he too has an amazing friendship base here in the UK. That’s not to say we don’t miss our family and friends on the other side of the world. Gosh we do, but we make the most of Skype and messenger and our memories stay strong as we embrace this chapter of our lives.

Patrick continues to amaze me every single day. He is thriving in every way. He gets sad too for the life we left behind but he is wise beyond his years and he is my very best friend. Our bond is unbreakable.

After realising that I couldn’t work for anyone else very early on (I applied for two jobs to no avail and the thought of having to ask to go on the measly 4 weeks annual leave per year made me palpate with anxiety), I started planning for another business right away. I was offered three amazing gymnastics opportunities over here but timing and location meant I had to turn them down. And so Ambitions was borne.

Not alone this time, but with a business partner. We’ve finished our first term on a high with some amazing feedback and big plans for the future. Nine month on, who’d have thought?!! And I’ve got some other super exciting things in the pipeline too which I can’t wait to get into when I get back from holiday.

Flyaway is still a massive part of my life and I am proud beyond words of my team. They have exceeded every expectation I had and continue to run not only my business, but a ‘home’ to many wonderful gymnasts. In my weaker moments and when I see how amazing everyone is doing and how happy all the children and coaches seem, I can’t help but shed a tear (or a hundred) and very much miss my other home. Goele and I share the very same sentiment around teleporting – c’mon Mr Branson, in my lifetime please.

It hasn’t all been bright and sunny though, although the smiles and photos may appear to tell a different story, It really would be a fairytale if we hadn’t had some difficult moments. The last couple of months has been a bit tougher than I’d have liked for more reasons than I’m prepared to go in to. I have no shame in saying that I’ve struggled a bit.

The broken toe was the last straw and while it’s just a broken toe and it will heal relatively quickly, it has forced me to slow down, think more than I would like to, relax a little and regroup.

While life might like to throw a curve ball at me from time to time, if not only to remind me that it’s the tough times in which we grow the most, I have hope that better days are coming. I have to.

I’m reading a book (the first of six I plan to get through on holiday) called Five Years from Now. I chose this book in the same way I choose all the books I read – I liked the front cover and I was captured by the first line on the back (that’s all much ‘selling’ opportunity you’ve got). Well, it’s like it was written for me for sooo many reasons, and while I haven’t finished reading it yet, the underlying message is distinctly clear. We really have no way of knowing what is going to happen next; not tomorrow, not in a week, not in nine months and certainly not in 5 years.

So for now, I’ll sit back, relax in the sun and finish my book, process what I need to to get my fight back, and wonder without limits, what life might bring twelve months from now…💕

It’s been three months since we left Australia. Some days it feels like only yesterday that we got on that plane, but then there are other days where our Aussie life feels like a lifetime ago.

Not only did we leave the ‘land of plenty’ on that sunny day in October, but also many wonderful friends, our Aussie family, our pretty little house, my business and the only life we’ve known for a very long time. Oh…and sunshine, we definitely left the sunshine behind!

I couldn’t be prouder of how Patrick has adjusted to life in the Northern hemisphere. Today I watched him run around a football pitch (in the pouring down rain I might add), playing his little heart out with a bunch of boys he now calls his team mates, feeling very much accepted and loving his new role as defender. I too am secretly enjoying my new found Sunday morning vocation, shouting and cheering from the sidelines (a little too enthusiastically at times I think, from the strange sideways glances I get from the very ‘passionate’ football dads).

As I stand there watching my little boy run up and down the pitch chasing anything that moves, I find myself being very much the proud football mum. (I think however that I could be much more content standing in something other than umbrella destroying conditions or below zero degree temperatures in sleet and snow).

As well as loving all things football, Patrick has settled really well into his lovely new school, made some great friends, loves maths and PE and is, for the most part, the happy, smiling cheeky little boy he has always been.

In quiet, reflective moments like this, I breathe quite a large sigh of relief when I think what the transition to a life on the other side of the world might have looked like for my sweet, sensitive seven year old boy if he hadn’t adjusted quite so well and longed to be back ‘home’. In these moments I realise just how lucky I am and what a wonderful little boy I have.

My own transition to British life has been a mixed bag of highs and a few lows. I have loved setting up our house and making it a home. Christmas was wonderful and very nearly a white one; and I’ve loved spending time with my family and friends without a time frame and a return flight hanging over our heads. I’ve especially enjoyed being able to spend time with Sarah, my sister. Last night we danced around her dining room giggling and laughing like teenagers, something we’ve not done for such a long time. I didn’t realise just how much I have missed these kind of moments over the years living so very far away.

I’m slowly starting to make some new friends, although being a 41 year old, almost tea-total, single mum tends to make having an active social life a little tricky. I have been offered lessons in drinking by quite a few people now, who seem completely baffled at my lack of alcoholic drinking behaviour, and I’m giving their offers some serious consideration.

I’m learning to work from home; although I still struggle with the distraction of chocolate and the desire to leave the house and go shopping. But with the Aussie dollar not stretching anywhere near as far when it’s converted to the British pound, I’ve had to curb my spending habits somewhat!! So instead, I’ve have built a website for my book, started writing business plans for a UK based gym, joined a gym (and I’ve actually been going), applied for a couple of ‘proper’ jobs (although I do struggle with the thought of working for someone other than myself) and I’ve found myself some daytime waitressing work which actually helps massively with all of the above. I am confident that exciting things are ahead for me career wise, I just need to find a little patience along the way!

But January in the UK can be tough even for those who are used to it. Add in the aftermath of the Christmas and New Year festivities, cold and grey days where it’s dark at 4pm and I think I can be forgiven for wanting to hop on the next plane headed south in my slightly weaker moments!!

When you’re used to basking in sun at the mere sight of it, and where you love nothing more than soaking up vitamin D like it’s going out of fashion, and wearing shorts and t-shirt is standard attire for three out of four seasons, the cold British winter can be really challenging when you’re trying to be positive and adjust to a new life on the other side of the world.

Combine the Ugg boot and thermal undies wearing weather with also finding yourself being a full time mum and having to think of culinary delights that your child won’t turn his nose up at, when being in the kitchen is like a fish being out of water, flapping around on the floor, gasping for air, and even I’m surprised that I haven’t packed up and jumped on a plane back to Oz on more than one occasion in the last three months!

But probably the hardest part has been watching my amazing Flyaway team run my business as if it were their own, exactly as you knew they would; feeling so very very proud of all they are doing but missing every one of them tremendously and feeling a little superfluous to what has been my ‘life’ for such a long time. Above all though I am truly grateful to be able to have done what I have, and I know that they will continue to make me proud, always.

And I do miss them! So very much and also my many other friends (and gymnasts) that I think so fondly and so often of. But Spring is coming and Patrick and I have many exciting adventures to go on and our journey here in the UK has only just started. The saying is true ‘you can’t move forward if you’re always looking back’, so I’m raising a glass (of something a little stronger than water) to the coming of Spring, wonderful memories, pretty daffodils, friends (old and new, near and far), exciting times, drinking and dancing and making the most of every moment. 💕

Twenty seven! That’s the number of inspirational quotes that appear on ornaments, pictures, fridge magnets, pillows, coasters and signs dotted around my house. Not at all excessive (hmmmm?!)

My love of all things inspirational began when I was a young girl and my mum bought me a beautiful book full of quotes and poems. Before long I knew them all by heart, but little did I know at twelve years old just how much that little book would help shape my life.

These days I draw my inspiration from lots of different places depending on what mood I’m in, or what I hope to achieve. It might be one of those 27 quotes, where the words play on repeat in my head, reminding me to ‘trust the journey!’ when all I really want is a crystal ball to tell me how it all works out in the end. It might be Christina Aguilera belting out ‘Fighter’, helping get me through another gruelling and very boring treadmill run; or it could be the ultimate mix of 80’s love ballads or a country collection to keep me awake on a long, late night drive home from competition.

And when I find myself complaining that I don’t feel like going to the gym or that I’m too tired to run, I draw inspiration from friends who I know would love to be able to do either, but due to injury or illness cannot. And instead of feeling beaten before I begin, I suddenly find myself grateful that I can.

More often than not however, it will be ‘Pink’ who, without exception, has the capacity to change my whole mood around with a single lyric. Who knew?!

I find joy in small things, such as snow falling on a winters day, the sun shining through my skylight, the familiar ding of a message arriving from someone special, or my sons hand in mine as he falls asleep, all which can be guaranteed to make my heart truly smile. As small or insignificant as all of these things may seem, or be to someone else, they matter to me and I am grateful for each of them for the role they play in inspiring me to be a better person.

As much as I love to be inspired, I get great enjoyment out of being able to inspire others; to help people believe in themselves and support them in pursuit of their dreams by giving them the confidence to at least try. I especially enjoy inspiring children. I started coaching at a young age and while I still love to teach, these days my ‘why’ has become much more than helping a child achieve a gymnastics skill. To watch a child thrive, grow, take a chance or ‘have a go’ under my guidance is something which feels nothing short of amazing and fills me with pride every time.

People often tell me that I inspire them with the things I do, and while I’m touched by their words, I’m never quite sure how to respond. But then I think about the people who inspire me and I wonder what they might say if I told them the same thing. I hope they would feel pleased, knowing that they have made a difference in my life, even if only in a small way.

In the end I suppose, we are all just doing our own thing to get by in this life, each of us on our own journey. And we do that in a way that makes sense to us and which helps us achieve our own set of goals and dreams. No doubt it will be different to the next person, and at times each of us will inspire someone else by the things we are doing, and maybe the best thing we can do is simply say thank you, smile and just keep on doing it.

So on the days where we may feel defeated, or where any and all inspiration seems to have evaded us, regardless of the number of quotes we surround ourselves with or how many times we play our favourite song, we should always remember to smile; because while we may not feel at our very best, we might still be someone else’s inspiration, and our smile might just be the thing that brightens their day. 💕

Wow! Time certainly flies when…you’ve moved hemispheres and are trying to set up a life for you and your seven year old son.

That’s the definition of fun isn’t it? I’m not sure it’s all been fun and games but it’s definitely been an interesting eight weeks.

Two months ago, I traded the sunny skies of Australia for the not so sunny, in fact rather grey skies of the UK, returning to the place my heart calls home. The difference being between this trip and the 19 others I’ve done in the 17 years that I’ve lived life as a token Aussie, is that this time I don’t have a return ticket.

And here I was thinking we’d land, take it easy for a while and cruise on in to British life. Who was I kidding? If cruising on in includes securing a place for us to live within 48 hours of landing, getting Patrick started and settled into school within 7 days, furnishing said house with beds and enough flat pack furniture to make me want to stay put for at least two years through pure fear of having to dismantle it all and completing what was possibly the most challenging of all tasks – getting a UK drivers licence. I should also mention that I’ve bought a car, unpacked what seems like an entire ship, rather than a part-container worth of ‘stuff’ that finally arrived from Australia, taken a weekend trip back to Oz for a wedding (yes you read correctly, weekend trip), written my most successful blog to date and sent over a hundred Christmas cards. I’ve also Skyped into meetings in Australia in my pyjamas at 2am, made some new friends, caught up with some old ones, loved spending time with my family again and to top it all off, I’m going to look at a venue in the new year for a UK based gym that I hope to set up with a friend. And I was worried I might be bored! Yeah right?!

While upon reflection it might seem that I’ve not really had time to think about the enormity of the move that we’ve just made or just how different life on the other side of the world really is (and it very much is), there have been a few moments among all of the craziness where our new life has really hit home!

A really good example of this is that I’ve never appreciated how little time actually exists between the hours of 9am and 3.20pm. By the time you’ve got home after school drop off, washed the breakfast dishes, put a load of washing on, been to the supermarket to buy food for dinner, gone to the gym to do your best impression of a hamster running on a wheel, determined to regain even a shred of fitness; tidied up, hung a couple more pictures, and spent a good half hour on the phone trying to convince some authority or other that you are actually a British Citizen and not a foreigner from the other side of the rainbow…and, suddenly I’m running late for pick up – again!

So I’ve come to the conclusion that, and while thankfully my son would argue very sweetly otherwise, I’m actually not very good at this newly appointed single mother role that I appear to have found myself in. Eek!

And while we’re talking about my limitations (as a mother of one – I must add here, a very sincere ‘hats off’ to those mums and dads out there, married or not, who have multiple children – you’re either crazy or superhuman, or both!) my culinary skills leave sooo much to be desired. Let’s just say that when pizza and dough balls end up looking like they belong in the coal scuttle after long forgetting they were in the oven, only to be reminded by your very hungry son, and then having to resort to fish and chips for the third night in a row, it’s hard not to hang your head in shame. Top that off with your own child feeling the need to give you praise for a job well done when you’ve managed to successfully heat up an Aldi Shepard’s pie and boil some peas and broccoli, citing ‘you’ve done really well tonight mummy’, I’m seriously considering hiring a nanny! Unfortunately, given that being a mum has somehow become my full time occupation, I can’t actually justify hiring a nanny, but it’s a nice thought nonetheless.

So with the new year looming and my life having changed considerably from the crazy gymnastics life I was living some mere 9 weeks ago, I consider what my goals for the year ahead may be. Unfortunately I think my full time mum role might be short lived as a career path although I’m happy to keep doing it as a bit of a hobby on the side. All comedy aside, I’d like to feel fit again, preferable fit enough to climb the 36 steps to my bedroom without keeling over every time I reach the top, oh and I have to run a half marathon in July. Given my friend is travelling 12,000 miles to run it with me, I probably should put in some effort with my training.

I also need to prepare a business case for the new gym, just to make sure I know what I’m doing! I have three more books to write in the Sarah Katie range and if being his mum wasn’t enough, Patrick has requested a seven book, boys series, so I’d best get cracking on that too. At some point, I’d love to explore further the idea of small business coaching and maybe house flipping but I’m hesitant to set my sights too high or spread myself too thin as I reckon there might be some other exciting things coming my way. I am however going to leave whatever they are up to the universe to plan for and organised on my behalf, because quite frankly, I just don’t have the time.

With all this being said, I think we’re doing ok. We’re happy and smiling and while it’s a very different life we’re living, its certainly not a ‘bad’ different and most importantly we’re making the most of everything. So here’s to embracing 2018 with the same excitement as a two year old running through muddy puddles, because let’s face it, if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it with passion, or not at all.

There really is no place like home ❤️

When I was a young girl I had lots of dreams, as many young children do.

I dreamt of being a ice skater, skating across the ice rink with grace and beauty, with a handsome partner lifting me up and spinning me around; For a (very) short time, I saw myself as a park keeper, taking money off tourists as they parked their cars for a day at the beach (it’s best not to give any more detail on this one, I think I’ve divulged enough already and I do have a reputation to protect). I dreamed too of being a pop star, having a number one hit, dancing around the ‘Top of the Pops’ stage and having my music video appear on MTV (I may secretly still dream about achieving this!)

But above all, I dreamed of being a wonderful gymnast; doing flips and somersaults and other amazing tricks. I loved gymnastics!

As I grew up, my hopes and dreams changed but my love of gymnastics stayed with me always. I wasn’t the best gymnast in the world but I didn’t mind, I just loved going to my gymnastics class, learning new skills and spending time with my friends…and I loooved my coach. At home, I would spend more time upside down than the right way up and I wore the grass thin in the back garden practising an aerial cartwheel at 7 years old (which I achieved I must add – you can’t fault my persistence!)

My gymnastics career was short lived but not long after I quit wearing a leotard and attempting to defy gravity with not a great deal of success, I was introduced to the world of coaching…and I loved that too, even more so than actually doing gymnastics it seems.

I got to jump around, have fun and teach all of the things that I had loved doing as a child, to impressionable, eager young gymnasts and to top it off, they actually seemed to like being taught by me. At 14 years old I wondered if there could be a better job!

Apparently not because 27 years later, I’m still doing it.

I did have a short break from the sport when I was at University studying maths, on a pathway to a career in analytical work of all things! If you’d have said to me back then that at 40 years old I would own my own gymnastics club, employ a team of people as passionate and crazy as me to help me run it, and that I would have written a book to inspire young gymnasts everywhere, my response would have probably been ‘I seriously doubt it, gymnastics isn’t a proper job!’.

But guess what? It absolutely is!! I have defied the odds over and over and fought hard for all that I have wanted to achieve with gymnastics, and the results speak for themselves. I have made a wonderful and potentially lifelong career out of the sport that filled my heart with such joy as a young girl and still fills me with as much joy today. (I must admit that the maths has come in handy over the years).

If that isn’t a dream come true I don’t know what is. So whatever it is that you dare to dream to be, or do, or achieve, never give up on it because you never quite know what you are capable of achieving. You may also not actually know what your heart truly desires until life takes you on a journey that you didn’t see coming, where the destination is more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

So sometimes in this crazy, wonderful life, dreams really do come true xx

I’m sitting on the plane next to my little boy. He is playing ever so animatedly on his iPad, providing me and anyone else who will listen with a running commentary on his every move. He is happy.

It’s a far cry from the little boy who was inconsolable some 12 hours ago as we walked through airport security, leaving behind the only life he has ever known in his short seven years. It’s hard not to feel guilt around the choices I’ve made in that moment, after all, I am the one who has made the decision to take him away from everything and everyone he knows and loves.

I too struggled to remain composed as I said goodbye to what can only be described as 17 years of living life to the full. Without argument, there have been many downs as well as the crazy ups, but I wouldn’t have had my roller coaster life any other way.

I fought back my tears as I have done so many times in the last week, I took a deep breath, leant forward, looked into his sad eyes and said (probably somewhat unconvincingly) ‘let’s think of it as an adventure darling. It’s all going to be ok, I promise’.

Every so often, he breaks off from his game, leans into me and says ‘I love you mummy’. These wonderful words will always cause my heart to melt in an instant and remind me just how very lucky I am. I reply ‘I love you right back my darling’ and I once again fight back the tears that sting my eyes.

I try to make sense of my emotions but there are too many to even begin. Plus, making sense of my feelings would suggest that there is logical and rational reasoning involved and I’m pretty sure neither of these come into play when matters of the heart are concerned. So I let the tears roll down my cheeks.

I am sad, I am tired, I’m emotionally drained and I’m scared of what lies ahead. I try to remind myself of the reasons why we are doing this, but my brain which can so easily convince me that black is white at times, is failing me somewhat right now.

I remember the hugs, the kisses, the tears and the love I have felt in the last few days and I re read some of the beautiful cards I have been given. I never want to forget the life I’ve lived in Oz, I never want the wonderful memories to fade over time and I find myself worrying that I maybe won’t be able to make such an impact back home in the UK.

I realise then though (with a little help from a beautiful story about starfish) that the kind of life Patrick and I live from here on in is up to me. My heart will always be full and my energy boundless; I will always be a hopeless romantic and I will continue to make a difference, regardless of which hemisphere we reside in.

And how do I know this you might ask? The simple answer is – because I choose to. But also because I want to; because I can and because I’m not sure I know how to do it any other way. But more importantly than any of these reasons, and just like the single star fish among the many that lie on the shore line hopeful to be thrown back into the ocean to live another day, the difference I can make in the life I live may just be the difference in someone else’s.

So if you get the chance to dance, do it with passion and do it your way. If you want to sing, do it so loudly that everyone can hear you and if you are lucky enough to fall in love, jump all in – you never know, it might just be worth it. 💕

Change can be really scary. Mostly it’s not change itself that the fear comes from but more the fear of the ‘unknown’ and the reality of the ‘new’ or the ‘different’.

I like to think that I embrace change and I’m sure anyone from the outside looking in on my world would say I do too, but I actually find change really challenging, debilitating even at times. I certainly love the idea of change; moving house, a new job, a fresh start, a new hairstyle, and it’s very easy to get caught up in the excitement of planning and seeing an idea through to completion when you have a clear vision. But there is a certain vulnerability that creeps in when you realise that all that was safe and comfortable in your world is suddenly no longer there, and for me I have often ended up feeling very scared and quite alone as a result of changes I’ve made in my life. 

I remember when I realised that maybe I wasn’t as good with change as I’d like to think I am. I’ve reflected on my behaviours many times since that day and I’ve observed similar patterns during other challenging/changing times over the years. I’m slowly getting better at understanding what happens to my brain in these moments and I’m constantly learning how best to overcome my fears and reduce the vulnerability. 

In 2005, I moved to Gippsland for an amazing job. I knew that I was a little out of my depth but I accepted it, excited to wear such an ‘important’ hat. I moved 5 hours from my Australian home town of Albury, got myself somewhere to live and thought I was ready to embrace my new life. But at the end of my first day, fear and defeat had set in and I was a mess. I had met so many new people, all of whom I was sure would never like me; I was adamant that I would never reverse, let alone enjoy driving the company car I had been given (it was huge in comparison to my Getz and it was an automatic) and to top it all off I was left with the realisation of the enormity of the role I had just taken on, a team of 150 and responsible for a $3m budget. Aargh!

That evening I wouldn’t speak to anyone and if I did, I bit their head off. Reasoning and rational thoughts were wasted on me and thrown back as quickly as they were offerred up. My every word was defeatist and I cried, a lot. Right there, in that very moment, I believed that there was no way I was ever going to succeed in the ‘stupid’ job and I was unwavering in my decision to hand my resignation in the following morning, never to return. I look back at that moment now and I’m able to smile some 13 years later. I’m ok with my crazy brain. 

I’ve worked out that my response to change and to what I was experiencing that day was ‘flight‘. All I wanted to do was run away; run away from everything I didn’t know (yet), run away from my fears and probably most of all, run away to avoid potentially failing. All I really wanted in that moment was to feel safe and not so scared.

Thanks to Ben, my wonderful ex-husband and now dear friend, I know the true power of a hug and the comfort that can be gained from the words ‘it’s going to be ok’ said by someone who cares. Once I had calmed down and was able to think more rationally about what I was taking on, my ‘fight‘ took over and I was able to embrace my new job. I loved it and I excelled at it; I made friends for life and when I eventually moved on, I did so with my head held high knowing I had done amazing things. Every time I overcome my fears after an experience like this, I come back bigger, better, faster and stronger and with a little less self doubt and I feel truly grateful for the opportunity to grow.

In five days time I am making possibly the biggest life change I’ve ever made, and if I’m being completely honest, I am petrified. I constantly find myself wondering if I’m doing the right thing; for me and for my son, and consider if I am completely crazy to do what I’m doing, especially now. I am leaving a life where I am loved and respected by so many people; a life where I have achieved great things; a life that is easy and is comfortable; a life that is safe, and I’m leaving all of that for the unknown. I have my family and my friends in the UK and I am truly grateful for them and can’t wait to see them and spend time with them. I have a tenacity that I know will ultimately get me through, but I don’t have a house or a job, I don’t even have a bed or a sofa.  What scares me the most though is that my ‘flight‘ brain will undoubtedly take over not long after I land and all I will want to do is run away once again. 

But as I write, I’m making a promise to myself. A promise that I will give our new life a chance; I promise to be brave, to hold my head up high, push my shoulders back, take a deep breath and smile.  I know in my heart I can do this and I will go after all I desire the same way I do everything, with passion and determination or not at all. After all, change really is the only constant in life. 

I am confident in my decision and for taking a chance on love and life and I know myself well enough to understand that while I may want to run away just as fast as I can in those first few days, that my ‘fight‘ brain will take over very shortly after and that I will once again do amazing things in our new life. 

So if I give you a hug in the next week or so, please hug me right back and just tell me that everything will be ok, because it will. To be continued…💕

Yesterday was a tough day. The reality of leaving 16 years of wonderful times behind started to sink in and I suddenly became overwhelmed by everything that is going on in my world. I don’t ever do things by halves but even by my own standards what I am currently trying to achieve is of epic proportions. 

In three weeks time my son and I will leave this beautiful country for a new adventure on the other side of the world. I am packing up my beautiful little house and saying goodbye to the life I have created for Patrick and I. And as if packing up 16 years into boxes wasn’t enough of a task, add in moving hemispheres and relocating a gymnastics club into the mix as well! Even I think I’m crazy! 

But busy is good. Busy stops the brain having time to think about the enormity of what I’m doing. Busy means that I have something to focus on other than all that I am going to miss so dearly. Being so busy that I crash as soon as my head hits the pillow doesn’t give me the opportunity to stop and actually consider the many ‘what ifs’ about the next chapter of our lives. Busy is good! Busy is what keeps me sane most of the time!

But busy can only keep those thoughts at bay for so long. They are always there bubbling under the surface, ready to escape as tear drops down my cheeks at any time, when it all becomes a bit much. And yesterday was one of those times. 

I looked around the new gym and (maybe for the first time) became acutely aware of the fact that I’m not actually going to be able to enjoy the wonderful space that my team and I have created. My thoughts shifted to my Australian friends and family and how much I am going to miss them. I thought about my little house and how it has ‘saved’ me so many times in the last 4 years. And then I think about what lies ahead for Patrick and I, and unlike the many memories I can recall from the life we have been living, I have no safe to place to use as a reference in relation to our future. Of course there is my family and the friends who I can’t wait to spend time with, but otherwise it’s all very unknown. And while most of the time that is an exciting thought, in the solace of my mind it’s also a very scary one. 

Unable to make sense of my spiralling thoughts, I confided in a dear friend. Rather than get me to focus on what was troubling me, instead they asked me one very powerful question ‘George, what are you grateful for?’ 

This threw me a little but my response was almost instantaneous, ‘Patrick’. Happy tears then flowed down my face as I recalled the pure joy he has brought me in the last 7 years. It’s true, I have thrown myself into being the best mum I can and in making the most of the time I have with my little mate.  But as our conversations continued, I realised that to put all of my happiness (past and future) onto the shoulders of my son, was too big an ask of anyone. It is also potentially flawed given that one day he will go off on his own exciting adventure, without me. So I was asked to think about some other things for which I am grateful. We left the conversations there with some food for thought for when I was ready. It takes a special human to even begin to understand the complexities of my brain and for those who do, or who are happy to try to, I am eternally grateful to you.  

I have woken up today and the sun is shining, the birds are tweeting and I had a restful sleep. These things alone are a pretty good start as something to smile about. I realise then that I have so many things that I could put down on paper that I am grateful for, and while there are some I would happily share, there are others which will forever be for my mind only.  

There are a few things that I’d like to share though, which make the enormity of all that I am doing right now and the uncertainty of the future pale into insignificance a little. I really have achieved some truly amazing things with some pretty equally amazing people in my 40 years in this planet. I have many wonderful friends all over the world who mean so much to me. I know that I am loved. I know that my beauty comes from within and runs much deeper than my mascara and size 8 jeans.

I have my health, for which I am so very grateful. I have my mind, albeit crazy at times, but even that I can be thankful for because without the crazy, I wouldn’t have attempted and gone after all that I have, and I woundn’t swap the highs of the emotional roller coaster that I live on for anything. 

I don’t doubt that there will be many more moments of despair over the next three weeks but rather than focus on the fear and the ‘what ifs’, I’m going to channel my endless energy into making our last three weeks in Oz completely unforgettable and by being grateful for all that is wonderful and good in my world. 💕

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I’m sat on a deck chair on the front porch of my pretty little Australian house with a note pad and pen. I find myself here quite often when the sun comes out and I have nowhere specific to be. The combination of the warm sun beating down on me, my thoughts buzzing around in my head and the occasional ‘Muuuum, can you help me with my LEGO? coming from inside the house, leaves me feeling pretty content and usually, unnaturally relaxed. 

The cars and people go up and down the steeet, oblivious to my existence and I find myself thankful for the white picket fence (which surrounds my front garden) for its role in my contented state. But today something is different. Unlike most other times where my handwriting becomes illegible to everyone including me, as I desperately try to get my thoughts down on paper before they inevitably disappear, I find that today the paper remains as blank as my mind. 

I decide to write a list. Lists are always good as they make you feel like you’ve accomplished something when actually the only thing you’ve really done is write a list of all the things you have to do. My first list comprises of all the people that I need to inform of my imminent change of address. That in itself leads to another item on the list ‘mail redirection’! I write a second list. This time all of the tasks that need to still be completed for the Gym relocation, none of which can even begin to be accomplished until I get the ever elusive construction permit for the toilet build. 

I understand completely what my brain is trying to do. It’s desperately looking for something to control when everything else in my world seems out of control. In five weeks time my lovely little miners cottage will become the primary residence of another young English girl who fell in love with it upon first sight, just as I did, and Patrick and I will be officially ‘homeless’. The original plan had us moved and settled in the UK in time for the start of the British school year. I’ve now lost track of how many ‘leaving’ dates we’ve had and our ‘imminent’ move still remains about six weeks away. Aargh!  All the while everything I have set up in Australia in preparation for the big move means that aside from cleaning the fish tank (a job I completely detest) and packing up the few remaining items of our Australian life, I’m left twiddling my thumbs. 

So I decide to have a think about what my future UK career looks like. I brainstorm a few ideas, look at the possibilities and consider what opportunities might be available to me in the place I will once again call home, some 16 years after I left. I rule out returning to analytical work, actually I’m not sure an office job of any description is going to fulfil my employment aspirations these days. I love to teach gymnastics and undoubtedly that will feature in some capacity, but one of the reasons for walking away from the gymnastics life in Australia was being able to spend more time with my son, so I continue to think. I wonder if the Sarah Katie book series will take off enough for a full time commitment, maybe, but it certainly won’t happen overnight regardless. Again I am back to the drawing board. 

So many thoughts fill my head.. Could I be a business coach, a bit of a closet goal of mine. Can I make a career from writing? I wish – maybe I should investigate that option further. Should I open up another gym? Hmmm unlikely.  Could I go into business with a friend? Maybe. And then to top it all off I decide that flipping houses looks like fun and something I would like to try, and who knows, I might actually be good at. 

The afternoon has almost passed trying to process all of the thoughts in my head and being unable to make sense out of any of them, I close my notebook. I put down my pen, close my eyes and decide to enjoy the suns rays. My contentment soon returns as I lie there knowing that whatever I do, I’ll do it with passion or I won’t do it at all, and that either something will come along right when it’s meant to or I will set another goal if I need to. Just not today.  Today I will listen to the birds singing in the tress and find the ‘missing’ LEGO piece when hollered, and be happy to ‘just be’. 

💕