My year of enough and what it’s taught me
It’s been a year of extremes. One the surface it’s been the most successful year of my life - I not only wrote a book that’s going to be in bookshops in two weeks, I also won the Royal International Horse Show, something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. These are great achievements that not too long ago I never believed were possible. Behind the scenes however, it’s been a very different story.
I’m not the same person I was before this year and everything that unfolded within it happened to me and I’ll never be her again. Sometimes what is done cannot be undone. The only way then, is through. I think one of the most beautiful parts of being a human is the fact we’re always growing and changing - this is what it means to be alive. If only this change happened at a steady digestible pace, but it doesn't. Like with many other forms of nature, we bloom and wither at different speeds throughout the course of our lives and the reality is we have no choice but to surrender, no matter how hard we struggle and fight. There is no steady path, no pre-determined timeline. This year I found myself in the midst of a turbulent period that I never saw coming, and yet I’m responsible for making it happen. Why? I’m still figuring that out.
I don’t mind telling you I don’t really want to talk about this year and I can feel the hesitance in my fingers as I’m attempting to transcend what’s in my head and heart onto the page - but I’m told it will help. Apparently turning your vulnerability inside out is a positive step towards healing. Unspeakable things have happened to me this year. Perhaps one day they’ll be speakable but for now I’ll just do my best to share what I feel I can without pushing myself before I’m ready.
If I’m going to do a year in review and stand by what I firmly believe in as a writer, to write what I know, I can only share the truth.
For someone who lives so much of my life in full view of the internet I feel like I’ve spent most of this year in isolation, quietly working on my book, exploring my inner wounds, trying to keep my head above water. It hasn’t been an easy year, far from it but it’s been one of essential learning and what I do with that learning moving forwards will either make or break me. I turned 33 this year and watched a YouTube video about reaching this age, about how and why 33 is so pivotal for us and our lives can either upward or downward spiral from this point in time. You can watch if here if you like. If you do give it a watch let me know if it resonates with you because it blew my mind.
So much has changed this year. I’m now legally separated and living alone. Well, not quite - I feel lucky to be able to share this little cottage I’m writing from with my puppy Hope. This transition however has been a painful one. I never struggled with commitment when it came to relationships. I threw myself in willingly, desperate to feel the safety and security I was searching for. Beginnings are exciting and hopeful, endings are not. With each division of shared belongings and finances comes one more reminder you’re on your own now and what once was, no longer is. The decisions you have to make are exhausting and seem never ending - where will you live? How much rent can you afford? Who gets to keep monopoly? Break ups are a grieving process and somewhere along the way you have to figure out who you are without that person, do you even know? My troubles with men and personal relationships didn’t end there this year.
It’s a life shattering event to first realise and then accept that a parent doesn’t love you, that they’re incapable of true authentic love and that the version of love that was modelled to you by them has influenced your own understanding of love - that perhaps you’re not even sure what it is yourself. The shame of this has kept me silent, the shame that isn’t even mine to carry. My old coping mechanisms have returned with full force. The ones I developed at a very young age to distract me from feelings that were too painful to feel, that once worked quite well but no longer serve me as an adult if I want to live a functional healthy life. My eating disorder, my smoking, my self-harm. I’ve battled and am still battling them all daily.
If you’ve never shared this experience I’ll forgive you for thinking or advising well intentioned but ignorant advice like you’re better off without, they don’t deserve you or just stop speaking to them. If you have been through this however I know you’ll understand what you’re willing to put yourself through when you’re desperate for someone to love you. How you turn the other way so you don’t have to see the truth, let them take advantage of you and your vulnerabilities, put on your rose tinted glasses when they intentionally try to hurt you, live in childlike Disney hope that one day they just might change. How you believe the lies you know are lies, forgive the unforgivable all in an attempt to fill the mum or dad shaped hole they left in your soul. You focus on the good times, frantically trying to piece together something that resembles what you’re aching for and push the bad to the back of your mind. You feel the wrath of narcissistic rage at point blank range, it shatters you and still you go back for more.
Still you pretend. Living in a fantasy bubble temporarily before it inevitably bursts again seems like the less painful option than accepting the truth and the excruciating pain that comes with it. You love them harder hoping that might work. It doesn’t. More than anything else in the world you want things to be different, just bearable, just pretend-able. There’s nothing you wouldn’t give up just to feel that fatherly love you’ve spent your whole life searching for. Your heart breaks in a way nobody else could break it, you cry tears you could only cry for them. This is supposed to be your caregiver, one of two people on the planet who have a responsibility to love you, keep you safe and protect you to ensure your survival. Everywhere you look love between parents and children seems to be a basic part of life, and you agonise over why you’re on the outside looking in? You question your self-worth, you start thinking the problem is you - are you really unlovable and why? Reality becomes warped and it’s all too easy to get lost down the rabbit hole, looking for love in all the wrong places and chasing dreams while in the meantime real life is passing you by. At what point do you remember who you are, what you stand for, have faith that you are enough and realise it should be an honour to be your father?
In her debut novel Ghosts, Dolly Alderton wrote how no matter what our age, we’re always still waiting for our parents to come and pick us up. I think I’ll forever relate to this waiting and longing, not only to be picked up - but to be loved. No matter what they do, no matter what others think it’s a basic human need to feel loved by our parents and underneath all the pain, anger and hurt I’ll always want a dad who loves me. I can’t see that ever going away.
Four years ago I started therapy. When Tria asked me why I wanted to start therapy at my first appointment I said it was because I wasn’t able to make the leaps I wanted to in my career, that I had big dreams and glimmers of self-belief but always felt something was holding me back. I was afraid but I wanted more for myself and I wanted to overcome these struggles. It’s only this year I’ve got to the bottom of what was holding me back, my deep wounds and gained the intricate understanding of myself I was looking for. It took three years to build up the courage to look at the parts of myself I’d always been too afraid to look at but now I can confidently say I’ve bravely shone a light into the dark. I’ve dug down so deep I feel like I’ve reached the core of myself and there’s nowhere else to go. I’ve come face to face with every demon possible.
I’ve battled with my inner child and gotten so close to her I can actually have a full conversation, I can see her, even touch her to comfort her. Most of the time I know exactly what she needs to hear and I can hold her in her pain. There have been times when I’ve actually felt like two different people, or one person rather at two, no various different ages. A little bit like A Christmas Carol except I’ve been living it as opposed to observing. This year I’ve meticulously explored every wound I’ve carried inside and how it has influenced my life. The trauma of my childhood and adolescence, the sexual abuse I experienced from 11 years old, being a survivor of domestic violence since before I was born. I’m left with no stone unturned and it’s catapulted me into a place of pain, sadness and deep vulnerability.
Was it worth it? They say ignorance is bliss but I would do it all again in a heartbeat because it’s brought me closer to myself but most importantly, set me free.
No year passes us by without teaching us something, provided we’re willing to take the time to reflect. As such, these are the lessons I’ll be taking with me into 2022 and beyond.
I’m capable of things I never thought possible
This year will always be there year I wrote my first book. Not only did I write a book but I wrote it during the most volcanic time of my life. It will also be the year I won the Royal International Horse Show, as I said earlier this is something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. To have achieved such monumental goals whilst in a place of such intense suffering has reassured me that if I can do that, I can do anything and doing the things you love purely for the love of them will always triumph. How I wrote my book this year is beyond me. I always thought I needed the perfect conditions to write a book - free time, a desk by the window, clarity and self-belief. Turns out all I needed was determination and a laptop. The conditions for me to write couldn’t have been worse but it will always be the most open, honest and heartfelt writing I’ve ever done as a result.
I need to work on my boundaries and what I’m willing to tolerate from others
Pre 2021 I thought I had my boundaries set in concrete but they’ve never been tested like they have this year. Where we draw the line on what we’re willing to endure is a personal decision and I’ve been shocked at how far I’m willing to bend, how much of myself I’m willing to sacrifice. I know I have work to do here and that boundaries are maintained from a place of self-respect and secure knowledge that we are worthy, that we are enough right now just as we are. Sometimes this is a lot harder than others but the endeavour is always worth it. When we live from a place of being enough we take back our power and step away from external validation. We can live from the inside out.
My fear of abandonment is my deepest vulnerability
I didn’t know this until this year, though now I know it’s always been so obvious. I’ve felt the deep pain of abandonment since before I could walk or talk. I’ve lived alongside this pain, trying to suppress and avoid it at all costs ever since. Becoming aware of this has helped me make sense of myself, of my behaviours, patterns and from this awareness I’m hoping to nurture this vulnerability and eventually heal it so I’m not as easily triggered. This fear of abandonment activates some very unhealthy behaviours for me like placing my self-worth in other people’s hands, obsessive worrying and feeling paralysed in both my working and day to day life. It steers me away from my true self and deprives me of making decisions that come from a place of sincerity. The worst part is it causes me to abandon myself.
Enough is a decision
I decided on Enough as my word of the year for 2021 because I knew this was going to be the title of my book before I’d even written it. There was no specific question to keep on my shoulder, I just wanted to explore this word in as much depth as possible and from as many angles as possible. What I’ve learned is that our version of enough, of having enough and being enough ultimately comes down to us. We get to choose. Enough is a decision and no matter how hard it feels we always hold the power to choose yes. Is is a co-incidence that my book and the message it sends out to the world, that to feel fulfilled in life we need to live from a place of being enough right now just as we are, came at the time I needed to hear this the most? I’m not sure but it feels like there’s some powerful synchronicity at work somewhere.
More than anything in this world what I desperately want, what I have always wanted is to feel loved and seen
Family and relationships have defined 2021 for me. This isn’t a topic I really talk about on my blog or in my vlogs and I’ve realised why. They feel too sensitive, too traumatic and too messy. I’ve always felt incredibly ashamed that I was born out of trauma, that I don’t have a stereotypical family with a mum and a dad who loved and raised me. This has been more shame that’s silenced me. Somewhere along the way I learned that it was best to not speak about the complexities of my family and personal relationships, but this only served me for so long before it all came out sideways and the bomb finally went off. Of course it’s up to me what I do and don’t talk about publicly but when I think about what’s guiding me into 2022 it’s my desire to feel loved in the way I’ve always wanted to, and that perhaps first and foremost this needs to come from myself as opposed to others.
So there you have it, a very painful heartbreaking but not without happiness year. I don’t want the trauma I’ve gone through to define me, or my online work - but I wanted to try and be open and share some of the pain I’ve been through with you. 2021 has cracked me wide open and brought me to my knees. Will I rise like a Phoenix from the ashes? Or will I lie down and accept defeat? One thing I know for sure as 2021 draws its curtains is that I am and have always been made of steel to have got this far. If I can achieve what I’ve achieved whilst enduring all I have this year, I’m left wondering what else I’m capable of? As Anne Lamott said - hope begins in the dark.
I hope this year has been kind to you. Thank you for sticking around while I haven’t been as present, your love and support means the world to me. I’m wishing you a very Merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year.
Lots and lots of love
J x
Enough - learning to simplify life, let go and walk the path that’s truly ours is released on January 11 2022 and is available to pre-order here now (affiliate link).
