I recently returned from a much needed visit home to the North Coast of Ireland.  I love London Life but now and again it is great to escape the smog for the fresh, rejuvenating, hair mussing sea air. Nothing like a walk up Portstewart Strand to blow away the cobwebs, and leave you feeling energised and inspired.

Portstewart Strand

Of course, it helps if the walk is in the company of one your oldest and dearest friends and the bouncy chocolate coloured family dog, both of whom you miss terribly when you're away.

My Murph

I always look forward to my trips home. I get to switch off from work, something I struggle to do when in London; catch up and reconnect with family and friends; visit old haunts; appreciate the beauty of NC, the comfort of small town life; take countless trips down memory lane; enjoy noticing the changes that have occurred since my last visit; remember what it feels like to be part of the culture of home; and be reminded of how much growing up there has influenced and shaped the person I am today.

However, despite the many wonderful upsides to my visits home over the years, I would be lying if I said that I haven't often returned, to whichever flat, in whatever city I find myself laying my hat at that particular time, feeling glad to back; relieved that it's over...  Because so much of the visit felt like torture. Torturous because I felt like I no longer really belonged and that was tough to realise, especially because I didn't feel that I belonged anywhere else either.

I moved out of NI in a hurry.  Couldn't get out of there fast enough. Because, despite the bounty of fresh air and space, I felt stifled, like I wasn't free to create what I wanted to create , even though I didn't have a clue what that was...

Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that life there should be put on hold whilst I was away, that the pause button should remain reassuringly pressed until I was free to return and join in on the action.  But of course that wasn't what happened at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.  While my back was turned, my friends continued to play out their lives. Meanwhile, I floated from city to city, touring, never settling, never finding what I was looking for and going absolutely nowhere. It was my life that was stuck on a freeze-frame.

And so time and time again the eager anticipation felt before such a trip soon turned to bitter disappointment when the time spent at home only served to draw attention to the feeling of misplacement that had quietly snuck up and enveloped me in a shroud of uncertainty.

But something has shifted. My recent visit to NI was different from those that went before. Refreshingly so. This trip illuminated the good things that I have got going instead of highlighting the many ways in which my life is lacking. This time I was able to view my home place in a different light; a happy light. This time I was able to strengthen my roots, confident in the quiet knowledge of a place where my flowers were free to blossom. I now feel I know where I belong and that even though I don't know quite where I am headed, I am definitely moving, my life is playing out and in the right direction. The pause button has been released.

A couple of months ago one of my students told me (I'm sure she wont mind me paraphrasing slightly) that she loves my classes and not just because she learns so much (I was pleased to hear that she learned any!) but also, because she observed that when I teach it becomes crystal clear that I really and truly love doing what I do. She finds it beautiful to watch because it is what she wants for herself; to be lucky enough to do something that she loves. I give her hope.  I hope she finds what she is looking for.

She was right; I do love what I do. For the first time in a long time I am falling into bed at night exhausted but fulfilled; eager to see what the next day, the next project, the next client will bring. How rejuvenating it is to feel content; happy with the direction I'm headed and willing to just let things unfold without feeling the need to worry (too much) about what is around the corner.

So this visit to NC was pretty special. The time spent reconnecting with family and friends seemed to have more value because I could really enjoy and appreciate it...

 I got to appreciate all of this loveliness:

A trip to visit my amazing Auntie Colette and Cousin Jude in Athlone; gorgeous girlie lunches; family barbecues; shopping trips with my beautiful mum; a hair cut by Mark; a silly pub night with my boys; endless cups of tea;  car rides with my (not so) little brother; lots of doggy Murphy cuddles; hours of flicking through old family photos; claiming vintage (aka old) clothes of my mums; and jewellery left behind by my gorgeous Granny, who recently shocked us all by slipping from this world... even a night of karaoke with my old boyfriend (the first real boyfriend) in which the voice coach finally found her voice again...

Check this super cool pin that I picked up at a brand spanking new and pretty fabulous vintage (aka old) boutique in Coleraine: Hope and Gloria.  More on this another time, I promise...

I love NC. This time it reminded me that the rose blossom is indeed no shrinking violet. It left me relishing the thought of getting a variety creative projects on the go. The first of which is to give a bit of TLC to my sadly neglected blog...

It's time to blossom.