When Life Forces You to Slow Down

I turned 40 and, for once, I had absolutely no intention of rushing around.

I'd booked myself a little trip to Palma. A chance to switch off, relax, enjoy some sunshine and celebrate getting to 40 in my own way.

And honestly? It was amazing.

Then, on the way home, I had an accident.

And suddenly, life went from running, cycling, hiking and generally being on the go… to crutches, a knee brace and realising just how much of everyday life requires two functioning legs.

Turns out, you need legs for quite a lot.

Who knew?

I'm currently typing this from my mam's sofa, which wasn't exactly how I imagined entering my 40th year.

But then again, when has life ever really gone to plan?

The path I thought I was taking

What's been playing on my mind is how different this year could have looked.

Before Palma, I was actually supposed to be going to Thailand.

Three weeks.

Muay Thai. Yoga. Adventure. A completely different environment. A proper solo experience that would have pushed me well outside my comfort zone.

And I talked myself out of it.

Instead, I decided I'd do something a little closer to home. A shorter break in Palma, finish my driving, get myself a car and make life a little easier.

It all sounded very sensible.

And if I'm being completely honest with myself, I think part of me was relieved.

Because travelling that far on my own made me uncomfortable.

I had the usual thoughts.

What if something happens?

What if I hate it?

What if I feel lonely?

What if I can't cope?

So I played it safe.

And here I am.

Typing from my mam's sofa with a knee injury that I definitely didn't have pencilled into my 40th-year plans.

It's made me laugh at myself a little.

Because I spent so much time worrying about stepping outside my comfort zone, only for life to come along and throw me completely outside it anyway.

You really can't control the path

I think this is the part I'm still figuring out.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I've suddenly discovered the profound meaning behind my knee injury.

Maybe there isn't one.

Maybe sometimes shit just happens.

But I'm starting to wonder whether there is something I'm supposed to pay attention to.

Slow down.

I've spent a lot of my life moving.

Doing.

Planning.

Starting something new.

Trying to figure out what's next.

Pushing through.

And when I wasn't physically moving, my brain certainly was.

So perhaps being forced to stop is giving me something I haven't been particularly good at giving myself:

space.

Space to think.

Space to reassess.

Space to notice what actually feels right.

And maybe, more importantly, space to listen to my instincts.

Because when I look back at the Thailand decision, I know there was a part of me that genuinely wanted to go.

But there was also a quieter part of me that was uncomfortable with it.

Instead of really sitting with that feeling and asking myself why?, I made the safer choice.

Was that the wrong choice?

I don't know.

I'm not convinced everything happens for a reason.

But I do think everything can teach us something.

And maybe that's the difference.

Sometimes the detour is the lesson

I've always liked having a plan.

A loose one, anyway.

I like knowing what's happening next. I like having something to work towards. I like the excitement of a new idea, a new project, a new place, a new version of myself.

But life doesn't give a shit about your spreadsheet.

You can plan the trip.

Book the flights.

Make the list.

Set the goals.

Turn 40 with an idea of exactly how the next chapter is going to look...

…and then life can completely change the itinerary.

So what do you do?

You adapt.

You rest.

You get frustrated.

You have a little wobble.

You laugh about the fact you're suddenly unable to carry a cup of tea from one room to another without making it an expedition.

And then you carry on.

Because that's really all any of us can do.

So, what now?

I'm still figuring it out.

Maybe this is about learning to slow down.

Maybe it's about trusting my gut instead of always choosing the comfortable option.

Maybe it's about accepting that rest isn't something you earn after you've done enough.

Or maybe it's simply about understanding that I don't have to know exactly where I'm going all the time.

I can change direction.

I can take the detour.

I can admit something doesn't feel right.

I can listen to myself.

And I can stop treating every pause like a problem that needs fixing.

Because maybe the goal was never to have the perfect plan.

Maybe it's to be able to roll with it when the plan goes completely to shit.

For now, I'm embracing the sofa.

The brace.

The crutches.

The very humbling realisation that, apparently, legs are quite useful.

And I'm trying to be curious about what happens when I stop fighting the pause and actually let myself have it.

Maybe I'll figure out the lesson.

Maybe I won't.

But I think I'm starting to understand something I've been trying to put into words for a while.

Less Rush. More Glow.

Not as another thing to achieve.

Not another wellness rule.

Not another version of myself I'm supposed to become.

Just a reminder.

To slow the fuck down sometimes.

To listen when something doesn't feel right.

To stop forcing things.

To leave a little room for life to surprise me.

And to remember that moving forward doesn't always mean moving quickly.

Sometimes moving forward looks like sitting on your mam's sofa with one leg up, having absolutely no idea what's next...

…and being okay with that.

Less rush. More glow.

Maybe that's the lesson.