Six Months Into My Second Life: What’s Actually Changed

Growth

Jun 2

Back in December, I wrote that I thought I’d begun my second life. It was inspired by a quote often attributed to Confucius: “We have two lives, and the second begins when we realise we only have one”. I ended that post feeling certain 2026 was going to be absolutely brilliant. Then I promptly didn’t write another word here for six months.

Make of that what you will. In my defence, it hasn’t been due to laziness. If anything, it’s been the complete opposite. I’ve been running all over Europe, covering festivals and conferences, vlogging, podcasting, and generally living my best creative life. And that’s why I thought I’d come back and write about what’s been happening so far.

That December post might have been a little epiphany, yes. But what really counts is whether I put anything into action. So here’s a check-in. What’s actually happened since then?

I started showing up more

The biggest shift is also the most uncomfortable one: I stopped hiding behind Creative Boom. For years, my platform was the thing people saw, and I was quite happy standing just out of frame. Over the last 12 months, I’ve stepped into the spotlight – becoming the face of our YouTube channel, running around events with a microphone, turning the Boom into something personality-led rather than another faceless media brand no one can relate to. I am, as I keep telling people, the poor soul who volunteered.

I won’t pretend it comes naturally. There’s always going to be a particular dread in watching yourself back on video. But the version of me from a couple of years ago wouldn’t have done it at all, and the fact that I can now – cringing and hiding under my desk sometimes – is all the proof I need that something has genuinely shifted.

The body kept its side of the bargain

In December, I said I was about 96 per cent recovered from the disc I herniated in January 2024. I’m pleased to report that I’ve continued to get better. Recovery from a nasty back injury is no picnic. It’s slow and frustrating, but you just have to crack on with life and hope it eventually resolves. Over the past few months, I noticed I’d stopped thinking about it.

That whole chapter of my life is still the hardest thing I’ve been through. But the year I spent on the floor gave me so much perspective. And I’m not kidding when I say I’ve built myself back to a full life since those painful days.

What hasn’t changed (and that’s ok)

I’d love to tell you I’ve become some serene goddess – a fully evolved one who no longer has to second-guess herself and has it all figured out. I haven’t. The negative voices still occasionally pipe up. I still announce grand intentions now and again, then quietly abandon them. That’s pretty standard.

But the relationship has changed. I notice the noise rather than obey it. I care a great deal less about how things look and more about whether they’re any good. I speak up when something doesn’t feel right. And I don’t allow anyone to tell me what I think or how I should behave if my gut says otherwise.

The thing I keep coming back to

Nobody has it figured out. The people you’d assume have arrived are still asking the same questions you are. They’ve just made peace with being human. I’m there now. And I love the woman I’m becoming.

It’s not just about making peace with yourself; it’s about giving everyone else a break, too. It’s the wisdom of age when you realise you’re still going to make mistakes, and that’s ok.

Showing up on camera and being the face of a brand also gives you nowhere to hide. You can't wear a mask as it'll eventually slip off. You have no other choice but to be unapologetically you.

But as journalists, we're taught early on that the story isn't about us. That can hurt over two decades. It can mean we lose who we are or never give ourselves the chance to find out. Now I'm going through this process, and the more I show my face, the more I discover who I am.

It’s a beautiful thing. Especially as you approach the lucky young age of 48. In a way, it means I’m only just getting started. I’ve put in the graft, made a ton of mistakes, endured pain like no other, and somewhere along the way found out what I’m made of. Now I can concentrate on building my platform and embracing whatever happens next. And whatever that might be, I’ll be ready.