Looking back, I really wish I’d questioned parts of my life sooner. 😔

Not because I had all the answers… I certainly didn’t have that. But because deep down, I think I already knew some things weren’t right long before I was ready to admit them.

For me, it took something big to shake everything loose.

I’d just turned 30 when a sudden close family loss completely pulled the rug out from underneath me. And grief does strange things… you can literally drown under the weight of it, or you can find yourself desperately trying to grab onto something solid.

For me, that something became my own strength.

Strength I’d buried under years of being told what I should be doing, what I shouldn’t be doing and, little by little, losing confidence in my own judgement.

And once I started finding that strength again, I began questioning things I’d simply accepted for years.

And that included my marriage.

I started noticing other families and thinking, hang on… ohh so not everyone lives like this then?

Because when I started to look, other families seemed to care for one another differently. They did ordinary things together. They enjoyed being around each other. 

Now I’m sure their lives weren’t perfect, but it made me realise that I wanted something different too. But the trouble was, I had absolutely no idea how to get from the life I had to the life I wanted. And the fear of changing it was huge.

What would happen? What would people think? Could I cope? Was I making a terrible mistake?

Looking back now, I can see that I wasn’t suddenly handed the answers…. I just started asking different questions.

And maybe that’s something we don’t do enough.

We wait until we’re exhausted, miserable, overwhelmed, resentful or something finally breaks before we give ourselves permission to ask, Is this actually the life I want?

So this week, I thought I’d do something slightly different.

Imagine I’m sitting opposite you with a notebook and I’m interviewing you about your life. Not your job title. Not the roles you play for everyone else. Not the version of you that automatically says, “I’m fine.”

You.

I’d want to know: When do you feel most like yourself?

Then I’d ask: What parts of you have become quieter over the years?

What do you keep saying you want to change, but somehow never quite change?

Whose opinion still carries far more weight than it should?

And perhaps one of the most uncomfortable ones…

How much of your life are you choosing because it genuinely feels right for you, and how much are you choosing because it keeps everybody else comfortable?

Then I think I’d save this one until last.

If you stopped worrying about disappointing people, getting it wrong, looking silly or changing your mind… what would you choose next?

You don’t need to answer all of them… actually, I’d rather you didn’t. 

Just notice the question that made you hesitate. The one you wanted to skip past. The one that made something stir… that’s often where the interesting stuff is.

Because one of the biggest things I’ve learned is that change doesn’t usually start when we finally know exactly what to do… it starts when we stop pretending and recognise that we already know something needs to change.

And you really don’t have to wait for something to break before you start listening and taking those first small steps towards new possibilities.

Shirley x