I'm not gonna lie. I'm going through a bit of a revival. A refresh. A rebrand, perhaps. I'm “finding myself”. And all that jazz. Or maybe just getting out of the way of my own fear and insecurities to embrace who I am – the good, the bad, and the mildly ugly.

What I feel a bit frustrated by is... why did it take so freaking long to get here? My twenties were chaotic – all about figuring out who I wanted to become. My thirties were about proving myself. My forties? A lot of ups and downs, life events and upheavals, and now the fecking menopause.

I turn 47 this month, and I’m having a When Harry Met Sally moment. You know the one? When Harry suddenly realises it's Sally he wants to be with? What's the line?

“When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Yeah, that.

Except it’s not about a person – it’s about me. I’m finally becoming the version of myself I’ve always wanted to be. But it’s taken almost five decades to get here.

And honestly? That feels a bit... unfair.

All that aside, why waste any more precious time? What are we waiting for? We're not getting out alive. Hey, I might have six months left! Do I really want to spend what time I have worrying about what could go wrong? What other people think?

If I could go back and talk to my younger self, what would I say? Honestly, probably nothing. You don’t reach this kind of milestone without mistakes, regrets, and the long and twisting road that got you here.

So no, I wouldn’t warn her. I wouldn’t try to fix anything. I wouldn’t whisper advice from the future – even if she’d actually listen (she wouldn’t, she’s stubborn).

She needed to fall. To doubt. To people-please. She needed the break-ups, the bad bosses, the good intentions and the absolutely terrible decisions. She needed to overwork, over-give, and underestimate herself. Maybe even break her back. Because that’s how she learned.

That’s how I learned.

And look… it’s taken me the best part of 47 years to realise I don’t need to be anyone else. I don’t need to prove anything. I don’t need to apologise for who I am, or play small so other people feel comfortable.

What I do need now is space. Clarity. Freedom. Laughter. Good people. Comfortable shoes. And the guts to keep showing up... as myself, without the performance.

Because this? This is the start of the rest of it. Not a midlife crisis. Not a rebrand. Just a woman finally coming home to herself.

I can't wait to get started. Right this second. Let's go.