A year of learning, rather than living.
Here are some of the lessons I've learned.
I suppose I thought that when I returned to London, my hometown, life would be perfect, once again. Not that it had ever been perfect before, but we rose-tint to persuade ourselves that things were better back then. And we believe our own lies.
We’d spent seven years living in a nice house in a friendly neighbourhood in London. Our children had friends; we had friends. And then life felt stifled as we dutifully navigated the pandemic and it felt important to now exercise our freedom.
So, we left.
And actually, in many ways, life was truly rosier on leaving. We had proven that we could relocate, as a family, if we wished. Life was cheaper, out of London. Our debts were reduced. We made new friends, some really good new friends.
And the green of our new life was rather succulent.
But leaving the stinking city and its expense didn’t solve the challenge of one of our children being unable to access mainstream education. It seemed as if it had, for a while, but we’d merely found an easy way to paper over the cracks.
Also, I missed my family. I had enjoyed the convenience of being able to meet my parents or siblings for an hour or two, whenever, rather than having to arrange a full weekend together, less often. I missed seeing them most weeks.
So we found ourselves in this idyllic, creative community going to wild parties and living life. I really lived in Frome. But I felt a sort of grief, as I missed London and my life there so much. I tried hard to reconcile this, but I just couldn’t.
The quick trigger for leaving Somerset and returning to London was school falling apart for our son but the slower trigger, that had been pulling back ever-so-slowly for the two years leading up to that point, was my homesickness.
The two combined created a cannonball effect: life was the cannonball, plunged into the cannon, and our family was fired back to the Big Smoke. We landed, heavily, and here is where we’ll now stay for the coming years.
At first, it was like the lights had been turned back on. I was back. I couldn’t quite believe my luck. I was walking around like I was high on drugs. Importantly, I liked the children’s new school. It ticked all the boxes that we needed it to tick.
But there are always consequences, when you change something. Life is never perfectly linear and you can’t predict every shift that will accompany a big life change.
You have a vision. Some of it might come to fruition. Much of it, in fact. But there will also, sometimes, be a lightning bolt that flashes through quite unexpectedly. Shit. We hadn’t anticipated this. Shifting sand. The vision has a gash through its centre.
That’s what happened. After five months, our son couldn’t stay at school. We were bereft. We just wanted him to be happy. He wasn’t happy. It broke my heart. And it was also an opportunity to remind myself that we aren’t afraid to shun convention.
Now, we would homeschool. He had tried three schools. It hadn’t worked in any of them. We would no longer put him through the pain of being misunderstood, in the mainstream state system. He is better than that; he deserves more.
We aren’t ruling schools out in the future; he might choose to return - but for now, an education at home is the right fit. Seven months in and he is happy.
And we are finding ways around having one child out of school, while two still attend. Also, how to create a good education for our son, from home. Including opportunities to socialise with other children. It has taken some thought, but it’s coming together.
This year hasn’t felt like climbing a mountain. It has felt like swimming in a very deep lake and regularly slipping underwater because I just can’t tread water any more and there’s nowhere to put my feet. It has felt dangerously difficult, at points.
I have navigated this uncertainty with my son, while also living apart from my husband in the week and trying to build a new community of friends around us. Luckily, I like making friends. Luckily, people are open to being friends with us.
There have been other layers of challenge this year but slowly slowly, we’ve smoothed it all out. And sometimes not slowly, sometimes quite manically, like buying a new house in just six weeks with eight days to go until the school application deadline.
At the weekend, I was on an afternoon yoga retreat, and it ended with some journalling. We were asked what we felt ‘dissatisfied’ about and as I journalled, I realised I am dissatisfied about absolutely nothing.
I thought long and hard. I entered various areas of my life - career, family, friends, hobbies, time for self - and I knew that even though it’s not always perfectly balanced across those areas, I am able to make quick moves to redress an imbalance.
This year has taught me that we can make changes. That we can try new things and if it doesn’t work, we’ll find another path. It has taught me that I can be resourceful. It has shown me that I have courage, and my children do, too.
This has been the year of motherhood. Listening to my children and their needs. Properly leaning into it. Also, creativity. Returning to online courses. I feel more settled in my career, as this year draws to a close, than I ever remember having felt.
I still have days where I question everything (almost always at a specific point each month, just before my period starts) but I am able to re-centre myself. I know that speaking my concerns aloud always helps. Writing them down does, too.
I know that when home-life feels unstable, work follows suit. And when work becomes frayed, home-life feels frictious. These two parts of my life are both separate and blended. I am in both; both are in me. We bleed into one another.
This year, 2024, I have grown up. I have become a grown up. Sometimes, I’ve lain on the floor like a baby, legs in the air, tantrumming - but mostly, I’ve been focused and driven and found solutions to some of life’s more difficult challenges.
I have worked so fucking hard to make it work and it has worked. It is working. I’m approaching the year-end feeling like life is quite rosy. My family gathers around the table on a Sunday to play Monopoly or Scrabble, by candlelight, and all is very well.
So, while I have thought, at points throughout this year, that I’d be ready to march quickly over the threshold; to leave 2024 behind and greet 2025 with relief - actually, this has been one of the most important years of my life.
I listened harder than I ever had before and took action. I drowned out the advice and went inwards. I spoke with my heart and soul and I heard them cry out the answer so clearly that there was nothing more to consider. I followed their instructions.
This has been a year of learning, more than living. I’ve truly conquered the art of listening. So, next year, I will live. While continuing to listen, a little, like life is a rave and I’m dancing against the speakers but occasionally, walking off to a quieter space.
I will enter 2025 wiser and with the helpful knowledge that new challenges will arise but between them, and through them, I can do all the things that bring me joy and inspiration. I will regularly remind myself that as well as mother and writer, I am me.
Annie x