LIFE & MOTHERHOOD COACH FOR MAMAS IN MIDLIFE

Category: personal growth

  • 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
    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 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.…

  • Peace Didn’t Wait

    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.

    Peace Didn’t Wait

    How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I sat at our table in the sitting room with a coffee in my favourite mug, “relaxing guitar music” playing quietly on Alexa, and I felt beautifully at peace. Charlie was outside on the bench in the garden, waiting for his blue hair dye to take hold, sun on his face.

    Nothing was happening. Nothing needed to happen. And it was one of the loveliest feelings I’ve had in a long time.

    I made a vow there and then: whatever happens in life, I’m keeping hold of that feeling. That sense of peace is my anchor now.

    Because life can be tricky, can’t it – for all of us, no matter how fortunate we are. There will always be moments of upset, challenge, and stress; we’re either in one now, waiting for one, or just come out the other side of one. But if we can hold onto that feeling of peace underneath it all, it doesn’t stop the difficult things happening – it just means we have somewhere steady to stand while they do.

    For me, this particular moment of peace came at a complicated time. My stepdad’s memorial service was two weeks ago. He would have been so proud of all that was said about him and I miss him. It’s left a quiet, hollow kind of absence in our family that I’m still getting used to. Grief has been sitting alongside me these past weeks, quietly, in the background of everything. And then, in the middle of all that, came this: a coffee, some guitar music, my son and his blue hair in the sunshine.

    Peace didn’t wait for the grief to finish. It just arrived, right in the middle of it, and asked to stay. That’s something I’m learning slowly: peace and hard things can exist in the same room together. You don’t need one to be over before you’re allowed the other. Peace can be interrupted too – by the people and situations around us. Unresolved tension, things left unsaid, small frictions that don’t get sorted – they have a way of quietly chipping away at whatever calm you’ve built. I notice it much faster than I used to now.

    I notice when something outside me is pulling at my peace, and I ask myself: is this mine to fix, mine to release, or mine to simply let pass through?

    This week’s action

    Notice when you feel at peace, and notice what you were doing when it arrived. It’s rarely the big, planned moments – usually it’s something small and ordinary. If you can’t remember the last time you felt it, that’s alright. It doesn’t mean it’s out of reach for you.

    Sit somewhere quiet, on your own. Close your eyes. Breathe in, and be aware of that breath filling your lungs. That’s often where peace starts – not in a grand gesture, but in one honest breath.

    Find out what your personal, unique anchor is. For me, right now, it’s gentle guitar music. For you it might be birdsong, a walk, a craft. Experiment with what is yours.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

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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. Peace Didn’t Wait How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I sat at our table in the…

  • 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…

  • When You Change, Not Everyone Will Be Glad — The Truth About Growing After 50

    Nobody warns you about this part.

    They tell you to grow. Find yourself. Choose your own life. Be brave. And all of that is true and worth hearing. But what they don’t tell you is what happens to some of your relationships when you actually do it.

    When you change, not everyone will be glad.

    Not because they’re bad in any way. But because the version of you that was quiet and accommodating and reliably easy to manage – she worked for them. And this new version, the one with clearer limits and a stronger sense of her own value? She can be disorienting. Even threatening. To people who benefited from your smallness, your growth can look like a problem.

    I’ve felt this. The surprise on someone’s face when I didn’t say, Sure, that’s fine… The comment that landed like: you’ve changed. Said not as a compliment.

    I have changed. And I’m not going back.

    In my Motherhood Studies training, the Fish Tank Model describes the invisible system that surrounds women – the social norms, family expectations, relationship patterns that define what’s acceptable. When you exist quietly within the system, everything feels fine. The moment you start to shift, the system pushes back. It needs you where you were.

    It’s not personal. It feels personal – intensely, sometimes painfully personal. But it’s systemic. You are bumping up against a structure that was designed to keep women compliant and in their place.

    The people who genuinely love you, and who are capable of growing themselves, will adjust. Some will need time. Some will surprise you. And some – this is the part that nobody tells you – may not be able to come with you.

    That is one of the harder truths of real change. Not everyone will celebrate who you’re becoming. Some of them were comfortable in your previous version.

    But here is what I know, from my own life and from other women I’ve spoken with:

    You cannot grow and simultaneously stay small for everyone’s comfort. Those two things cannot coexist. And now that you’ve seen the tank – now that you know what you’ve been swimming in – you cannot unsee it.

    The discomfort of growing is temporary. The cost of shrinking back is permanent.

    Choose growth.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of someone in your life who may be uncomfortable with who you’re becoming.

    Now think of the last thing you almost said to them – and didn’t. The sentence you edited.

    Write the unedited version. The thing you actually wanted to say. You don’t have to send it, share it, or do anything with it. Just write it without softening it for once.

    Notice how that feels. Not reckless. Not unkind. Just true.

    That gap – between what you said and what you wrote just now — that’s the distance you’re closing. That’s what becoming looks like.

    It takes practice. But you’re already doing it.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    Nobody warns you about this part. They tell you to grow. Find yourself. Choose your own life. Be brave. And all of that is true and worth hearing. But what they don’t tell you is what happens to some of your relationships when you actually do it. When you change, not everyone will be glad.…

  • Who Were You Five Years Ago? A Question Every Woman Over 50 Should Ask

    I’ve been on a few night shifts this week — there’s something about working at 4am that makes you see your life very clearly.

    It got me thinking.

    Who were you five years ago?

    What did you put up with that you wouldn’t now? What did you believe about yourself that has quietly shifted? What did you call normal that now makes you pause?

    I ask because I think we wildly underestimate how much we’ve changed. We’re so focused on who we’re trying to become that we forget to notice who we’ve already become.

    Five years ago, I was waking at 4am rehearsing conversations. Replaying things people had said – or hadn’t said. Working out how to phrase something so it wouldn’t cause a problem. Calculating whether my needs were reasonable before I’d even expressed them.

    A constant internal negotiation. An editing of myself before I spoke.

    I don’t do that anymore. Not never – some mornings still catch me. But mostly: I notice when I’m doing it, and I stop. That gap between the impulse and the action – that’s where I live now. Along with a lot more compassion for myself too.

    That didn’t happen in one single lightbulb moment. It happened through a lot of small, uncomfortable choices. Saying something true when it would have been easier to stay quiet. Choosing not to explain myself when I didn’t owe an explanation. Starting REDISCOVERY on a night shift break and thinking: this is real, and I’m going to keep going.

    The Maternal Self in Motion framework – which I studied as part of my Motherhood Studies certification – describes our identity as a train journey. Not a fixed destination. A journey, with tracks and stations and a carriage that carries everything you’ve been through.

    The stations mark the befores and afters. And in our 50s, most of us have been through stations that changed everything. The loss of a parent. The end of a relationship. Children becoming adults. Relocation. The slow, clarifying recognition that the life you’ve been living was assembled partly for other people.

    My mum died in September 2025. I was with her for twelve days in hospital, and then she was gone. It was the saddest thing that has ever happened to me – and also, strangely, one of the most clarifying. She was genuinely warm, kind, and caring. She made everyone feel seen. And sitting with her in those last days, I thought: that’s what I want. Not success or recognition or proving anything. I want to be that real.

    I got back on the train different.

    You have too.

    Look at yourself clearly – not critically, but clearly. See the woman who has been through stations and kept going. Who has learned things the hard way and applied them anyway. Who is, right now, more herself than she has ever been.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of one thing you’ve said or done in the last six months that the woman you were five years ago would not have done.

    One moment where you held your ground. Told the truth. Chose yourself.

    Didn’t apologise for existing.

    Write it down in one specific sentence. Not “I’ve been setting more boundaries.” Something real: “I started something without asking anyone’s permission.”

    Then read it back and say: I did that. That was me.

    Because it was. And the woman who did that is still here, still building, still becoming.

    That’s the beginning.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    I’ve been on a few night shifts this week — there’s something about working at 4am that makes you see your life very clearly. It got me thinking. Who were you five years ago? What did you put up with that you wouldn’t now? What did you believe about yourself that has quietly shifted? What…

  • 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.

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    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…

  • Your Spark Isn’t Gone — It’s Just Been Waiting

    Have you been feeling a little flat lately?

    Not depressed. Not broken. Just… a bit grey.

    Going through the motions. Doing what needs doing. Showing up for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling that flicker — that sense of aliveness that used to be yours.

    I’ve been reflecting on this month’s theme: rediscovery. Reconnecting with what lights us up, with what makes each of us unique.

    And here’s what I want you to know before you read another word:

    Your spark isn’t gone. It’s just been a little lost, buried under years of looking after everything and everyone else.

    You can get it back. Every day, in some way, you can have your unique spark again.

    When the Years Just Passed

    A few years ago, I went through a period where I felt completely flat.

    I’d wake up. Go to my nursing shift. Come home. Sort everything. Do what needed doing. Repeat.

    Nothing was bad. But nothing excited me either. The years seemed to be just passing.

    The spark was there — I know that now. It was just hidden under years of putting everyone else first. Of being responsible, reliable, needed. Of doing what had to be done.

    I just couldn’t feel it anymore. And I knew I needed it back.

    How the Spark Came Back — In Small Moments

    With one simple shift in awareness — I wanted my spark back — I started to seek it out. And it returned in small, almost magical moments.

    I laughed at something silly my son said. I felt it.

    I sat with my daughter and really listened — no interrupting, no rushing. Just listened, then offered a few thoughts at the end. We connected. The spark was there.

    One morning I woke up genuinely looking forward to something I’d planned. That feeling of anticipation. The butterflies.

    Moments of aliveness.

    My spark wasn’t gone. It was waiting for me to notice it. Waiting for me to make space for it. Waiting for me to stop prioritising everything else long enough to remember: I’m allowed to want things just for me.

    Your Spark Is Still There Too

    We all have our unique spark. It’s what makes you, you.

    Under all the years of being who everyone needed you to be. Under all the times you said “I’m fine” when you weren’t. It’s still there.

    You don’t have to dig up every flicker at once. You don’t need a complete life transformation. You don’t have to quit your job and move to Italy — though if that’s your spark, I won’t stop you.

    Start smaller. Start with noticing.

    Notice the moments when you feel a little more alive. A little more yourself. When something makes you laugh, or pulls your attention, or creates that small bubble of anticipation in your chest.

    That’s your spark. It never left.

    This Week’s Practice

    Do one thing this week that makes you feel alive. Something that makes you feel like you.

    • Something that excites you
    • Something you’ve been putting off
    • Something that brings that small flicker back

    Notice it when it comes. That’s your spark. You’re back. And you’re on a wonderful journey of rediscovery.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. When did you last feel your spark? What were you doing? Leave a comment — I’d love to hear it.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , ,

    Have you been feeling a little flat lately? Not depressed. Not broken. Just… a bit grey. Going through the motions. Doing what needs doing. Showing up for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling that flicker — that sense of aliveness that used to be yours. I’ve been reflecting on this month’s…

  • The Cake That Didn’t Win: Finding Joy in the Ordinary Chaos of Life

    Hello,

    How are you? I hope you’re well.

    This week I want to share a story about small joys. And it starts with a chocolate cake.

    The School Cake Competition

    My son’s school had a cake competition to raise funds. We made a chocolate cake covered in smarties—full of colour and jolliness.

    It didn’t win but the slices sold out in minutes.

    And you know what? There were joys everywhere.

    The Small Joys I Almost Missed

    Making the cake with my 8-year-old the night before. Yes, there was mess. Yes, there was flour on the floor and butter icing on the counter. But we laughed. We tasted the icing straight from the bowl. We made something together.

    I could have been stressed about the mess. I could have worried about whether our cake would win. I could have said “not tonight, I’m too tired.”

    But I didn’t. And because of that, I got to experience something beautiful: being present with my son. Creating something together. Not worrying about perfection.

    The Girl With 50p

    At the cake sale, one girl came to the stall with only 50p. Each slice was £1.

    I said, “Don’t worry, choose one. I’ll pay for the other 50p.”

    Her face lit up. That moment—that tiny, ordinary moment—was just joy.

    Not because I was being a hero. Not because it was a grand gesture. But because in that moment, a small act of kindness created a ripple of happiness for both of us.

    What Small Joys Really Are

    For women over 50, we’ve been taught that joy comes from the big things. The promotions. The milestones. The achievements.

    But what if joy isn’t about the big things at all?

    What if it’s about:

    • Making a cake with your child on a Tuesday night
    • Eating butter icing straight from the bowl
    • Helping a little girl get the cake slice she wanted
    • The mayhem of a busy cake sale
    • Eating someone else’s delicious cake afterwards

    None of this was Instagram-worthy. None of it was a “win.”

    But it was joy and happiness.

    Small Joys Aren’t the Extras—They ARE Life

    The big things change your trajectory. Absolutely.

    The new job. The house move. The life-changing decision.

    But the small things? They make up every single day.

    And when you start noticing them—really noticing them—life starts feeling different.

    Not because everything is perfect. But because you’re finally paying attention to what’s already here.

    The laughter. The mess. The kindness. The chaos. The sweetness.

    All of it.

    Your Turn

    What small joy did you notice this week?

    Was it:

    • A conversation that made you laugh?
    • The way the morning light came through your window?
    • A moment of quiet with your tea?
    • Someone’s unexpected kindness?

    I’d love to hear. Leave a comment below or hit reply—I read every response.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. The cake was delicious. Even if it didn’t win. 😊

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , ,

    Hello, How are you? I hope you’re well. This week I want to share a story about small joys. And it starts with a chocolate cake. The School Cake Competition My son’s school had a cake competition to raise funds. We made a chocolate cake covered in smarties—full of colour and jolliness. It didn’t win…

  • Small Joys Matter

    Small Joys Matter More Than You Think: Why Happiness Isn’t What You’ve Been Told

    Sometimes I just go out for a walk. The sun comes out and it’s such a small thing. But it always lifts me and I feel happy.

    And I’ve been thinking about that—how we dismiss small joys as if they don’t count.

    So let’s let the small things matter.

    The Big Happiness Myth

    I used to think happiness had to be big. Achievements. Milestones. Life-changing aha moments.

    I’d look for it in the big things: promotions, holidays, major events. And when those things didn’t bring lasting happiness, I’d feel disappointed.

    Why wasn’t I happier? Why did the good things fade so quickly?

    But I was walking past small joys every single day and not even noticing them.

    The first coffee of the morning (I love a hot, milky coffee). The moment my son laughs at something silly. The feeling of clean sheets. The way light comes through the window at 4pm and catches on a hanging crystal.

    Tiny things.

    Except they aren’t tiny. They’re everything.

    What We’ve Been Taught About Joy

    We’ve been conditioned to think small joys don’t count. That happiness has to be earned through big accomplishments.

    But what if happiness isn’t one big thing, but the hundred small things we’re not paying attention to?

    For women over 50, this realization can be profound. After decades of chasing milestones—raising children, building careers, managing households—we often forget that joy doesn’t have to be earned. It’s already here. In the everyday. In the small.

    The Night Shift Biscuit

    Last week, I was at work during a night shift. It was going to be busy. And then a colleague brought in homemade biscuits. Just because.

    And when I was flagging, I took five minutes out, sat down and enjoyed one. Absolutely delicious, and I was so grateful to her. It mattered. And for those five minutes, I felt light. Connected. Happy. I thanked her. And I got on with my work.

    That five-minute break with a biscuit wasn’t “just a nice moment.” It was genuine happiness. The kind that keeps you going through a 12-hour night shift.

    Small Joys Aren’t Consolation Prizes

    Here’s what I’m learning: small joys aren’t consolation prizes for not having big happiness.

    They are happiness.

    The moment in the sun. The first coffee. The five minutes with a biscuit. The clean sheets. The way your body feels after a good stretch.

    These aren’t “nice moments while we wait for real happiness.”

    This is it. This is the happiness.

    What Are You Walking Past?

    Maybe you’ve been doing what I did—walking past small joys because you’re looking for something bigger.

    Waiting for the big thing that will finally make you happy. The achievement. The change. The moment when everything falls into place.

    And missing all the small things that are right here, with you, every day.

    The coffee that’s still hot. The text from a friend. The way your favourite song came on the radio at just the right moment. The clean kitchen after a long day. The feeling of finally sitting down.

    These matter. They count. They ARE the happiness you’re searching for.

    Your Practice This Week

    Notice 3 small joys every day.

    • The warmth of your tea
    • Something that made you smile
    • The way your body feels when you stretch
    • A text from someone you love

    Notice them. Name them. Let them matter.

    That’s happiness.

    Not someday. Not when everything is perfect. Not when you’ve achieved enough or fixed enough or become enough.

    Now. Today. In the small things you’re already living.

    I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment below or hit reply—what’s one small joy you noticed this week?

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What’s one small joy you noticed this week? I love hearing them. 💛

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , ,

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