Embracing the Present: Lessons from My Year Off

It has been a while—indeed, it has.  

When I hit “publish” on December 31st, 2022, I didn’t think it would take me over a year to return to this space. But life, as it often does, had other ideas. The struggle to come back, to write as consistently as I once did, felt like climbing a mountain with no peak in sight. The guilt of letting myself down, the shame of falling silent—it was almost too much to carry. Yet, deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready to let this go. I was determined to return, no matter how long it took. And here I am, choosing this moment to come back—not just for myself, but as a quiet, defiant middle finger to anyone who thought I wouldn’t. I may have been down, but I was never out.

This past year? It felt like a fight for my life. And I fought—hard. Now, sitting here, feeling the words flow through me once more, I’m reminded of why I started this journey in the first place. Writing, the act of letting my thoughts spill onto the page, feels like coming home. It’s a feeling I’ve missed more than I realised. The road that led me back to this desk has been long, messy, and full of lessons. And I’m here to share it with you, hoping that my story of resilience, survival, and eventual return might light a path for anyone navigating their own storms.  

If you’ve been here before, you’ll know I’ve often written about change and rest. I thought I was practicing what I preached, but I underestimated the toll my personal circumstances would take. Grief, loss, pain, trauma, betrayal—I faced them all. And while I fought through these storms, my mind remained fixated on the goals I had set for myself. This relentless focus only added to the weight I was already carrying. Health challenges, major life changes, and the daily act of showing up for my life left me utterly depleted. The guilt of delaying my dreams and the shame of not working toward them consistently paralysed me. I stopped doing the very thing I loved most.  

Then, one morning, during my commute to work, it hit me like a lightning bolt. The friction in my life came from my obsession with the future—the outcomes I was chasing—while neglecting the present. I was so focused on where I wanted to be that I forgot to be where I was. My body, spirit, and soul demanded I slow down. They forced me to confront the reality of my life as it was, not as I wished it to be. It was a humbling, almost jarring realisation.  

We live in a world that glorifies achievement. We carry invisible checklists in our heads, ticking off milestones as if life were a race. We dream, plan, and strive, only to find ourselves frozen, depleted by the demands of our current reality. That’s where I was—completely drained. My dreams, once so vivid and exciting, lost their luster. They no longer sparked joy. Instead, they became reminders of what I wasn’t doing. My laptop, once a tool of creation, became a symbol of failure. I stopped opening it, afraid of what it would say about me.  

So, I went back to therapy. Again. As I worked through everything, my inability to write loomed large. Encouragement from others to simply put my thoughts into words felt impossible. My world felt colourless, devoid of the vibrancy I once knew. But difficult times, as they say, don’t last forever. That morning on my commute, it finally clicked: I had been so fixated on the end result that I had stripped the joy from the process. I had ignored my present self, fighting so hard to become a future version of me that I lost sight of who I was in the now.  

How did I finally begin to move forward? I stopped trying so hard to *make* it happen, and instead, I just decided to *be.* This wasn’t easy. I fought it every step of the way. But eventually, I accepted that I needed to lean into the present, to trust that by slowing down, I could rediscover my flow.

So, here are some adjustments I made in my life to get here.

Acceptance 

I had to accept that I wasn’t feeling like myself. There were days I hoped a newer, better version of me would emerge, but that wasn’t the case. I had to face the reality of where I was and put in the work to find my way back. It was hard. I didn’t know how or when I had drifted so far from myself, but I had. And getting back required courage. I had to confront fears, make changes, and say goodbye to parts of the old me that no longer served me. It’s still a work in progress, but here I am, tapping away on my keyboard again. And it feels good.  

Shifting My Focus

For so long, I believed that the goal of this blog was simply to post, to share my stories. But over time, I realized that writing is not just an outlet for my experiences; it is healing. The process of creating, of putting words to thoughts, is therapeutic for me—it takes me back to when I was a child, filled with wonder and joy in storytelling. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that. But now, I’ve invited the childlike joy back into my creative process. With the wisdom of my adult self, I’m learning to weave my stories with both heart and purpose, not just for the outcome, but for the healing along the way.

Being Present

As Master Oogway wisely said in Kung Fu Panda, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.” This quote became my guiding mantra. I had spent so much time chasing the future and reliving the past that I forgot to truly experience the now. And in that, I had lost myself. But now, I’m committed to being present. To listening to my needs, to taking care of myself, and most importantly, to being kind to myself—even when I don’t meet every expectation. The future will come, but it’s the present that holds the power to shape it.

There’s no one-size-fits-all formula for finding your way back to yourself. But I believe it’s vital to remember that we matter. We get one life, and we mustn’t let it pass us by without truly living it.  

To those who reached out during my absence, thank you. Your messages meant more than you know. To my friends, who reminded me that I am more than my struggles, I am forever grateful. To my loved ones, who showed me what it means to truly live, thank you for your unwavering support. Life is tough, and every day brings new challenges, but I want you to remember that you have the strength to face them. You may need time—months, even a year—but never forget who you are. Rise again. 

Thank you for reading, for sharing your experiences, and for being part of this journey. Let’s continue to share our experiences to effect the change we need.