LIFE & MOTHERHOOD COACH FOR MAMAS IN MIDLIFE

Category: Happiness

  • The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up here to get the next one straight to your inbox.

    The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers

    How are you? I hope you’re well. This week I finally finished something I’d been chipping away at for weeks – brightening our sitting room.

    New curtains were up. I’d repainted two old wicker chairs sage green. I’d made the cushion covers, one set patchwork, one floral with a gingham trim. I’d swapped the pictures on the wall for bright, modern florals. Decluttered, changed the rug. Every piece, in place.

    And it still wasn’t right. Something was missing.

    Then yesterday I put a vase of sunflowers on the table.

    That was it. That was the final piece that lifted the room. It went from nice to somewhere that lifted me, somewhere that made me smile and, well, just, feel happy. And then I thought – that’s not really about the room.

    You can get everything technically right. The curtains hung, the chairs painted, the frame of a life arranged exactly the way it should be. And it can still be missing the one thing that makes it feel like yours. Not more sorted. More alive.

    I’ve been doing a lot of sorting lately – clearing out, taking care of everyone, getting things in order, making sure the structure underneath me and my family is solid. And don’t get me wrong, structure truly matters. We all need that foundation, that security we can build on. But structure doesn’t give you the spark. It doesn’t give you that feeling of aliveness which is unique to you, that makes you you.

    That addition to your life can be small. For me, this week, it was a vase of fresh flowers on the table. A choice, made on purpose, to bring a gentle vibrancy into a quiet, intentional space.

    This week’s reflection:

    Where have you done all the “right” things – and forgotten the sunflowers?

    Have a think about:

    • Your home
    • Your body
    • Your work
    • You, plainly, underneath all of it

    Pick one. You don’t need to overhaul it. You just need the fresh thing, not the renovation. The flowers, not the whole room done again.

    Freshness isn’t decoration. It’s how you know you’re still living your life and not just maintaining it.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

    P.S. If you want a hand working out how to rediscover the spark that’s unique to you, that’s exactly what a Connection Call is for. Reply here and we can book in a relaxed, free, no obligation chat.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
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    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up here to get the next one straight to your inbox. The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers How are you? I hope you’re well.…

  • When Fun Goes, Peace Isn’t Far Behind

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up to get the next one straight to your inbox.

    Yesterday I collected my big boy, Max, from university at Cambridge.

    Charlie and I left early – three hours in the car, chats, a car disco, and then a bit of quiet. If you’ve never been to Cambridge, it’s beautiful. The colleges look like mini castles. The whole city is steeped in history, the atmosphere is friendly, you can go punting on the river. Max’s college even has an outdoor pool in its gardens, so we went swimming too. Just visiting is inspiring.

    It was fun. So much fun.

    Life gets full of what must be done. Sorting. Decluttering – which is exactly what I’ve been doing lately. Lists, logistics, the next thing and the next thing. And somewhere in all of that, fun can be forgotten.

    But having fun is so important. It’s the sparks of life.

    I remembered that yesterday. There’s a balance to life, and it gets tipped easily – by any unexpected event, by life simply needing managing, by all the doing that crowds out the living. And when fun goes, peace usually isn’t far behind it.

    Have you seen the wheel of life? I have one at the front of the workbook I use in my coaching.

    It’s simple. Look at each area of your life and ask: what needs my attention here? What’s my vision for that area? And what’s one first step toward it?

    If your honest answer is “all of them” – choose just one or two. The highest priority, not all the priorities. You can do this every few months, or once a year, whatever feels right. It’s a proper eye-opener. Do it alongside a partner and it can explain a lot – why one of you feels lighter than the other. Your wheels rarely score the same.

    Have a go. I’d love to know what you find.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 🌸

    Ready to go deeper? If you’d like a hand working out where fun and peace have gone missing in your own life, book a free, no-obligation Connection Call.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , ,

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up to get the next one straight to your inbox. Yesterday I collected my big boy, Max, from university at Cambridge. Charlie and I left early – three hours…

  • Claiming Your Own Peace After 50: Why Keeping Everyone Else’s Peace Isn’t the Same Thing

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel.

    How are you? I hope you’re well.

    This week I walked twelve miles in the sunshine – a circular route arranged by the Ramblers. My aim is one long walk somewhere new once a month. Somewhere along the way I got talking to a woman who’d spent decades following her husband’s career around the world. Switzerland, different cities, different schools. And now, at nearly sixty, she’d decided: they’re staying put in the UK, and she’s figuring out who she is and what she wants for herself. I recognised that decision – that feeling of It’s Time.

    This week: claiming your peace.

    Not the peace that exists for other people – the careful words, the managed moods, the going-somewhere-you-didn’t-want-to-go. That’s not real peace. That’s maintenance work.

    Real peace is an internal state — calm, settled, confident in yourself.

    I know what it costs to keep everyone else’s peace. I’ve been far too good at it. And what I’ve learned is this: it doesn’t actually keep the peace. It keeps the status quo. Which is a very different thing.

    And at some point you notice: you’ve been attending to everyone’s peace except your own. And something has to change.

    The good news is that peace isn’t something you find. It’s something you decide. You claim it. You protect it. You come back to it when something pulls you away from it. It’s yours.

    Certain relationships or situations will still disrupt it – that’s just life. The difference is knowing how to notice it, deal with it, and return to yourself. With practice you return to your peace more quickly and for longer.

    Nobody else is responsible for your peace. Nobody is going to hand it to you. And knowing that isn’t sad or hopeless – it’s liberating and empowering because it’s in your hands.

    Peace lives within you when your life is aligned to your values.

    This week’s practice:

    First, notice. When do you adjust yourself – what you say, how you behave, how much space you take up – in response to someone else’s mood or expectations?

    Ask yourself: is this genuine care? Whose peace am I keeping?

    Then, claim your peace. Here are some ways to do that this week:

    • Sit in stillness for five minutes. Close your eyes. Just breathe.
    • Go for a walk with no destination and no distractions – just you.
    • Rest when your body asks for it, without negotiating with yourself first.
    • Notice what disrupts your peace – and notice what helps you return to it.

    Small practices. Real results.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What does peace actually feel like for you? Hit reply. I’d love to know.

    FREE RESOURCES FOR YOU:

    What Do I Really Want? Your 5-Step Action Plan — for when you’ve lost touch with your own desires

    Get Your Spark Back Guide — small, practical ways to feel like yourself again

    Rediscover Your Values Workbook — get clear on what actually matters to you now

    All on my website: www.susyrosemary.com

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , , , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel. How are you? I hope you’re well. This week I walked twelve miles in the sunshine – a circular route arranged by the Ramblers. My aim…

  • Finding Your Authentic Voice After 50: The Difference Between Filtering for Care and Disappearing

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel.

    It’s Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK – it started with a trip to the seaside, some nursing work, and the particular pleasure of a quiet morning today with my milky coffee in my favourite mug.

    So today we’re talking about the power of speaking, of using your authentic voice.

    Because how we speak, to others and to ourselves, tells us who we currently are, and who we’re becoming.

    How many times do we speak inauthentically? It’s worth noticing – not as self-criticism, but as information. Are we just passing the time of day, or are we making a true connection? Are we saying what we mean, or a managed version of it?

    And then there’s how we speak to ourselves. That tone. Is it sharp? Is it kind? Is it fair? Because the way we talk to ourselves is the foundation everything else is built on.

    I filter. I know I do. Because I know people’s triggers and sensitivities – my children are sensitive, and I have to be careful about what I say and how I say it. But here’s what I’ve learned: that can still be authentic and loving. Filtering for care is different from filtering for self-erasure. One is thoughtfulness. The other is a slow disappearance, which I’ve experienced and have come back from.

    Sometimes we’ve edited how we speak just to keep the peace. Sometimes our anger speaks before we’re ready. Sometimes nervousness shows in a shaky voice, or a laugh that shouldn’t be there. We don’t need to perform. We just need to be truer.

    Sometimes I get this wrong. Sometimes I rush, or snap at my children, and immediately I regret it. Nothing good ever comes from it. And it usually happens when we’re running late, when I’m tired, when I’ve got too many things in my head at once. It always ends with an apology from me and a reminder to myself to learn.

    On the whole, I have learnt. Just by taking a bit more time. Just by knowing that rushing simply does not work for me. That pause, that extra breath, is where the authentic version lives.

    Speaking the truth can change your life. Speaking, discussing, not keeping your true feelings locked inside but letting them out in a considered way leads to alignment, and to peace. It can be hard. Others might not want to hear what you have to say. But in the end, it has to be said. So that you can be free.

    I’m still practising this. Some weeks I get it right – I say the true thing and it feels like a relief, like something unclenching. Other weeks I notice, ten minutes after a conversation, that I gave the managed version instead. And I think: next time. We have to learn. And we have to give ourselves grace.

    This week’s practice:

    Notice how you speak to someone this week:

    • Am I speaking authentically, or giving the managed version?
    • What feeling am I conveying? Is it the one I actually want to convey?
    • How am I speaking to myself today – is it with love?

    How you speak, how you use your voice – it’s one of the most powerful tools you have. It is a path back to yourself.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. When was the last time you said something and thought – yes, that was exactly right, that was actually me? Hit reply. I’d love to hear it.

    Ready to go deeper?

    FREE RESOURCES FOR YOU:

    What Do I Really Want? Your 5-Step Action Plan — for when you’ve lost touch with your own desires

    Get Your Spark Back Guide — small, practical ways to feel like yourself again

    Rediscover Your Values Workbook — get clear on what actually matters to you now

    All on my website: www.susyrosemary.com

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel. It’s Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK – it started with a trip to the seaside, some nursing work, and the particular pleasure of a…

  • What Do You Actually Want? The Question Women Over 50 Stop Asking Themselves

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up here on the side panel.

    How are you? I hope you’re well. It was big boy’s 21st birthday yesterday. We had lunch together — his dad and partner, their little one, my little one, one granny, one grandpa, and me. A separated family, still showing up together. There’s something quietly good about that. I’m so proud of my three children.

    I want to tell you about a question I asked myself a few years ago. And I’m asking it again today.

    It’s a question that appeared one morning, quietly, while I was standing at the kitchen sink.

    What do I actually want?

    What do I, Susy, actually want for the rest of my life?

    I have ideas. Vague but within my grasp.

    Life happens. Change happens — to you, or to others in ways that affect you. But underneath all of it, the question remains. What do I want? What do you want? Not for everyone else. For you.

    Here’s what I’ve learned before and I’m learning again.

    Identifying what you want isn’t selfish — it’s exciting. It’s an absolute necessity for your everyday life. You can’t build a life you love without knowing what that looks like. You can’t move forward without a direction.

    We’ve been needed — we still are needed. And there’s room for our own unique life too. It’s knowing what gives you that spark. It’s trying something new. It’s making headway toward that dream — once it’s formed, once you know what it actually is.

    The wanting is still there.

    I know this because the moment I asked myself the question — what do I actually want? — things started coming. Slowly at first. Then more clearly. France. Walking in the mountains. Writing. Building something that was mine, that I believe in. More honesty. More peace. More music. More adventure too. That’s the dream that is forming at the moment.

    It’s not that I’d forgotten what I wanted. It’s that life evolves. It changes, and when you do live one dream, you’re ready for the next one to take shape. And oh, that’s exciting. You’ve got to let yourself dream a little to let it all happen. You’ve got to give yourself that space.

    This week’s practice:

    Sit somewhere quiet – even five minutes – and ask yourself honestly:

    • What really is my dream? Without limits?
    • What have I kept putting off until “later”?
    • What do I want more of?

    Don’t edit your answers before you write them. Don’t make them reasonable. Just let them be true. Have fun with it.

    That list is yours. Let it evolve.

    If reading this stirred something — if that question landed somewhere — that’s the starting point. That’s exactly where we begin in coaching. Six sessions, just us, working through what you actually want and what’s been getting in the way. £397. If it feels right, just hit reply.

    Not ready for that yet? The REDISCOVERY Workbook lets you start in your own time, at your own pace. £27. [Details here.]

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What’s one thing you want that you feel excited about? Hit reply – I read every single one. And if your answer surprises you, that’s often where we start.

    💌 If this resonated with you, it might resonate with someone you know. Feel free to forward it.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up here on the side panel. How are you? I hope you’re well. It was big boy’s 21st birthday yesterday. We had lunch together — his dad and partner, their little…

  • Setting Boundaries After 50: What Nobody Tells You About the Guilt

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up in the side panel.

    How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I did my first long Ramblers walk with my new boots and a knapsack on my back. 10 miles, beautiful weather, boats, sparkles in the water, bluebells and butterflies. It was so fun and inspiring to meet new people. It felt freeing and each step was a step on my own Rediscovery journey. I’m going to book another one.

    So this week I set a boundary with someone so that I could protect my peace. It was important to me and I had to do it. It was difficult for me to do.

    Defining a boundary is a truth you say out loud. You say what you need. For what your body needs (instead of storing it in tension) and what your mind needs (instead of storing angst).

    For most of our adult lives, especially as women, as mothers and carers, we often care about and for other people. Perhaps we gave way on things that mattered because it was easier. Perhaps we stayed quiet in situations that cost us something. Perhaps we called it being reasonable, being nice, being a good mother, daughter, colleague, friend.

    I had a moment when I realised that I had spent so long accommodating everyone else’s preferences that I genuinely had lost my own. Not because I didn’t have them. But because I’d spent years taking care of everyone else at my own expense. I don’t blame them – it was me, fitting into some belief or social system.

    A boundary can seem aggressive but it isn’t. Nor is it unkindness. It’s the honest answer to the question: what will I accept, and what won’t I accept any more?

    The discomfort you feel when you live with a boundary – that guilt, that urge to apologise and take it back – that’s not evidence that you’ve done something wrong. It’s evidence that you’ve spent a very long time not doing this. New things feel uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

    This week’s practice:

    Sit quietly with these questions. Write honestly, without editing:

    • What have I been tolerating that I know, deep down, I shouldn’t be?
    • Where do I feel drained, resentful, or invisible?
    • What do I want instead?

    And finally, what is one step I could take to get from where I am to where I truly want to be? That’s the exciting part…

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What is one aspect of your life that you want to change, and how can you change it in one small way towards what you really want? Hit reply – I read every single one.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up in the side panel. How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I did my first long Ramblers walk with my new boots and a knapsack on my back.…

  • Quiet Anger After 50: What Your Body Has Been Trying to Tell You

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side on this page.

    How are you? I hope you’re well. The bluebells are out in the UK and the daffodils are still going – it’s such a pretty time of year. I’ve just booked my first walk with The Ramblers, which feels like exactly the kind of thing I should be doing more of.

    I want to talk about anger today. Not the explosive kind. The quiet kind. The kind that sits just below the surface for years while you get on with things and make it all work well enough.

    I remember sitting in a conversation – nodding, staying calm, being reasonable – while something inside me went flat. It was the realisation that what I wanted wasn’t going to happen, even though I’d clearly expressed how important it was and had been told it was going to happen. I felt betrayed because it became clear that I had been lied to. The anger I felt mattered because it showed me what I knew was important, and the flatness came because my values had not been respected.

    What I didn’t realise was that every time anything similar had happened in the past, I had swallowed it – but that anger had in fact stayed with me.

    It felt like tiredness. But it was unexpressed anger that had nowhere to go.

    I’ve come to understand that anger is information – incredibly helpful information. It tells you when a limit has been crossed, when something that matters to you has been dismissed, when you’ve been carrying something that was never yours to carry.

    We were taught from childhood that anger is unbecoming. Too much. Difficult. But anger – when you listen to it rather than manage it away – points directly at what you value. It says: this matters. This needs to change. I deserve better than this.

    That’s not a problem. That’s a compass.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of something that has made you quietly angry – perhaps something you’ve pushed down, explained away, or decided wasn’t worth mentioning.

    Then ask yourself:

    • What is my anger actually protecting?
    • What does it tell me I value?
    • What would I no longer tolerate if I honoured this feeling?

    You don’t need to address everything at once. One answer. One small step. That step will lead to another.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side on this page. How are you? I hope you’re well. The bluebells are out in the UK and the daffodils are still going – it’s such a…

  • What To Do When You Have Nothing To Do (For Women Over 50)

    I’ve been thinking about what to do when you have nothing to do.

    That sounds like it should be simple. A free afternoon. No one needing anything. Nowhere to be. Just: time.

    I stood in my kitchen last week and felt it – that strange, uncomfortable blankness. And within about three minutes, I was already reaching for something useful. Tidying. Planning. Sorting the car out. Drafting a newsletter.

    The pull was automatic. Almost like a reflex.

    I stopped myself. But it took effort.

    Because for most of our lives, being needed was the structure. Work, children, parents, partners, problems. There was always something. And we were always the ones holding it together.

    Rest wasn’t really rest. It was recovery before the next round.

    My mum was different. She knew how to simply be. She’d make a cup of tea, sit by the window, and read her book. Watch the birds come into the garden. Go and see a friend just to have a proper chat – not to solve anything, not to help with anything. Just to be together, chat, laugh.

    She wasn’t anxious. She was at peace.

    I used to watch her and not quite understand it. Now I think she had something I’m still learning.

    Since she died, I’ve been practising. Sitting with a coffee without reaching for my phone. Meeting a friend and having that chat and laughing – not multitasking in my head. I’ve just finished a wonderful book by Rory Stewart and I have my next one waiting. I’m hoping to start it today.

    It’s harder than it sounds. Especially when you’ve been needed for so long that stillness feels suspicious. Almost not allowed. Like you should be doing something.

    But here’s what I’m coming to understand: reconnecting with yourself doesn’t happen in a dramatic moment. It happens in small, quiet experiments. An afternoon with no agenda. A walk with no destination. A morning when you let things be slow.

    You have to practise wanting things again.

    It’s a skill. And it’s one we can absolutely rebuild.

    It starts with one honest question:

    What do I actually feel like doing right now – one thing just for me?

    This week’s practice:

    Schedule two hours for yourself this week. Put it in your diary right now, before you read another word.

    When those two hours arrive:

    • Do not clean.
    • Do not plan.
    • Do not improve anything.

    Just notice what happens in your body when you stop being useful. Notice the pull toward productivity. Notice what stillness actually feels like for you.

    Then write one sentence: How do I feel when I stop?

    Let’s do this.  Everyday, living our own lives.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , ,

    I’ve been thinking about what to do when you have nothing to do. That sounds like it should be simple. A free afternoon. No one needing anything. Nowhere to be. Just: time. I stood in my kitchen last week and felt it – that strange, uncomfortable blankness. And within about three minutes, I was already…

  • The Dream I Carried For Years (And What Happened When I Actually Lived It)

    I want to tell you about a dream I carried for years.

    A house in France. Green shutters. A different kind of life.

    I used to look out of my kitchen window on a grey English morning and think: there has to be more than this. And eventually — after years of waiting, talking myself out of it, talking myself back into it — we actually did it.

    And it was beautiful. The light in France in the early morning is unlike anything I’ve experienced. Warm and golden and slow. Nothing like February in Hampshire.

    But here’s what I didn’t expect: the hard part wasn’t the logistics or the upheaval or the uncertainty. The hard part was deciding that what I wanted was worth the disruption. That the dream — not the sensible choice, not the thing that made logistical sense — deserved to actually happen.

    For decades I’d been building a life around what worked. What was practical. What kept things smooth. I’m good at that — I’m a nurse, I’m a mother, I know how to hold things together. But somewhere in all that holding, I knew I was waiting too.

    You Are Not Going Backwards

    In my Motherhood Studies training, I studied a framework called the Maternal Self in Motion, developed by Dr Sophie Brock. It describes identity using the metaphor of a train journey — tracks, stations, carriages. The idea is that our sense of self isn’t something fixed we return to. It travels. It moves through stations of change, picks things up, sets things down, arrives somewhere new.

    The women I speak with often say they want to get back to who they were. But that woman isn’t behind you. She’s further down the track — carrying more wisdom, more clarity, a harder-won understanding of what she will and will not accept.

    You’re not going backwards to find yourself. You’re going forward, into a version of your life that can fit who you’ve actually become.

    What France Gave Me

    I loved France but it didn’t last. We came back after just a few months — Charlie needed his friends, his language, his home, his school system. People said, Charlie will be fine, just stay! But I knew he wasn’t fine. It simply wasn’t going to be right for him. He’s thriving now and is about to be Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk — which feels like an excellent life outcome.

    But I’m so glad we went.

    Going to live my dream gave me something I didn’t even know I needed: proof that I could choose something just because I wanted it. That the life I wanted was worth the uncertainty of actually trying. And I still feel like I lived that dream, even if just for a short time. It’s changed my life going forward — no more waiting.

    And now I’m planning my next dream. Walking in the mountains.

    So Let Me Ask You

    What do you want? Not what’s sensible. Not what will please everyone. What do you want for your one life?

    Sit down with a piece of paper — not your phone, actual paper — and finish this sentence without editing yourself:

    “The life I actually want looks like…”

    Write for five minutes. Don’t stop. Don’t cross anything out.

    Then circle the one thing that surprises you most. The thing you wrote and then immediately felt you shouldn’t have.

    That’s the one worth paying attention to.

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , ,

    I want to tell you about a dream I carried for years. A house in France. Green shutters. A different kind of life. I used to look out of my kitchen window on a grey English morning and think: there has to be more than this. And eventually — after years of waiting, talking myself…

  • Sometimes Rediscovery Looks Like a Library Cookbook

    It’s been a fairly ordinary week — some nursing, coaching work, school runs, and February doing its thing with bright daffodils and snowdrops in gardens, parks and meadows.

    But something small lit something up for me this week, and I wanted to share it.

    My son Charlie and I went to the library. We came home with a stack of bright, picture-heavy children’s cookbooks — the kind where you choose recipes by the photos. I’ve been wanting to change my relationship with cooking for a while. Most days it feels like a chore to get through rather than enjoy. I needed some inspiration to energise it.

    So I tried something different.

    We made a Quiche Lorraine. A new chicken dish with mustard. Next up: homemade pizza, a sausage traybake, and lemon muffins for our cousins this weekend.

    Charlie didn’t actually cook with me in the end. But that wasn’t the point.

    The point was: I said I’d try something. I did. And I felt that YES — the “I did it” feeling nobody else can give you.

    Because I have to cook every day anyway. I may as well make it something that brings me alive.

    That’s rediscovery. Not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just a library cookbook on a Tuesday.

    Rediscovery doesn’t have to mean moving countries, changing careers, or making a grand announcement. It can be as quiet as choosing a different recipe. As small as borrowing a book. As simple as deciding that something you do every day anyway deserves to feel like yours.

    Women over 50 are often waiting for the big moment — the revelation, the sign, the perfect circumstances. But the spark doesn’t usually arrive that way. It arrives in ordinary Tuesday afternoons when you decide, almost without thinking, to do something a little differently.

    That decision — however small — is the beginning.

    What gave you your spark this week?

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    It’s been a fairly ordinary week — some nursing, coaching work, school runs, and February doing its thing with bright daffodils and snowdrops in gardens, parks and meadows. But something small lit something up for me this week, and I wanted to share it. My son Charlie and I went to the library. We came…