Tag: 2024

year in which poem was written

  • When advice falls on deaf ears …

    "... I now know 
    I needn’t have worked 
    so hard
    to secure the spaces 
    already mine to fill ..."

    If you have lost someone you loved dearly, you’ll know that it doesn’t take much to bring them to the forefront of your mind.  I’ve written previously about my best friend, who died of cancer when she was 49. (https://fiwynne.com/2025/09/24/how-life-is-never-the-same-following-bereavement-but-still-there-is-life/).  Last week, she would have been 60, and I feel sure we would’ve done something special to celebrate.  She fully embraced life, and wasn’t one to bemoan the passing of years.

    It got me thinking of the many things she taught me.  It’s no surprise, given my stubbornness, that her voice wasn’t the only one expressing concern about some of my choices.  I’ve lost count of how many people, over the years, have told me to slow down, not work too hard, or take life too seriously.  I knew they spoke from a place of love and yet still I didn’t listen.  

    I worked incredibly hard at my job because I felt I had to.  It’s just what I did.  It’s only now, with hindsight, that I recognise the self-doubt, always bubbling just below the surface.  The fact is, I lacked faith in my natural ability. I know I’m not unique in that.  There are studies that have shown women have to work twice as hard to be considered half as good as their male counterparts. But being as good as the men wasn’t my key driver; it was me. I was the hardest person to convince that I merited success. As a result, I spent years over-preparing, putting in the extra hours so that I felt capable and confident.  It led to burn out more than once.  

    Why do we do this to ourselves?  Why are we so often the last person to see what is obvious to everyone around us?  Why, even when our most trusted people, give us advice, can’t we listen? I don’t know the answer, but for me anyway, I think it’s about needing to find our own way through life.  That means making mistakes and picking up the pieces afterwards.  I will always be grateful to my parents for allowing me the freedom to make mistakes and learn at my own pace.  There must have been times when they despaired at my choices but they rarely said anything.  

    Figure with her back to the camera, facing out to sea, in a yoga pose.

    I wrote this week’s poem as I was approaching the end of my working life and the beginning of my retirement.  It coincided with the near end of my 50’s.  It was a packed decade of small triumphs, hard knocks, and many sleepless nights.  A mixed bag, which is undoubtedly true for most of us.  

    The biggest lesson has been the hardest won.  This year, I’ve reached that new decade, and realised that so much of what I fought for was already mine.  I strove hard to achieve small wins that no longer feel important.  But I’m not bitter.  I look back at my younger, vulnerable self, with compassion.  I can laugh at my mistakes and know they’ve shaped me.  

    I’ve finally reached the place of contentment that all those giving me advice knew was there for the taking; it just took me longer to get there.  I’m grateful that they stuck with me, despite the fact I never listened!  I feel sure that Karen would be proud, giving me that quizzical look that said, “what took you so long?”

    towards sixtyDownload

  • What the spring equinox teaches me …

    "... time to nurture 
    the habit of gentleness 
    plant seeds of kindness 
    starting with myself
    allow space 
    for creativity to grow ..."

    Last weekend, we in the northern hemisphere, celebrated the spring equinox, which marks a moment of balance between the light and dark, the day and night.  From now until the end of June, the days will grow longer, whilst the nights grows shorter.  It’s a helpful reminder, I think, that everything is connected.  Springtime is the perfect opportunity to consider the different aspects of our lives and if they are held in balance. Should we be doing more of one thing and less of another?  Only we can know.  

    I spent most of my working life searching for a better work/life balance and never really managed it.  In fact, I was rubbish at it.  I invariably put work first and myself last.  It made me ill, not once but twice. I needed time out, and of course, I never gave myself permission to recuperate fully before, once again, diving back in.  Of course, the organisation I worked for was more than happy to turn a blind eye whilst I worked myself to death, but on reflection, I know it was my own fault.  I was (and remain to a lesser degree) a people pleaser.  I was a woman in what still felt like a man’s world.  I was bright but never brilliant, thus always felt I had to work doubly hard to keep up.  It was exhausting.  

    When you suffer from vertigo, which affects physical balance, you will feel unsteady of your feet.  There’s a constant need to check yourself.  If you forget, you’re likely to stumble and fall.  A lack of mental balance feels the same.  I often felt anxious; I had to check myself to prevent panic setting in.  

    It was only when I stopped work that I truly appreciated just how important balance is.  I guess I always knew this, deep down, but simply wasn’t ready to accept it.  I knew that to achieve balance in my life, something had to give, and it was never going to be my job.  I’m not proud of this, but it’s the truth.  

    When I look back now, I can see that I did relent to some degree. I stepped back when I realised that it was too much, albeit I took almost my entire career to reach that point.  It came at a price but it was a price worth paying; I did recover.  Recovery shouldn’t be that drastic or difficult but then, if you’ve been reading the blog, you’ll know that I usually do things the hard way.   Check out my earlier post, if you haven’t seen it: https://fiwynne.com/2026/02/11/why-i-make-things-harder-than-they-have-to-be/

    A grassy hillside, with sunlight lighting up half the sky and hillside, with the other half in shade.

    Spring and winter equinox, summer and winter solstice, all offer assurance that life is cyclical.  If you miss an opportunity to make a change, don’t worry, it’ll come round again.  I wrote this poem, not in springtime, but in autumn.  When I think about it now, it makes perfect sense.  Autumn’s the time you start to prepare for the following spring. You plant bulbs, giving them time to slowly settle over the winter months.  Mentally, I was thinking ahead to retirement and future plans.  I fully embraced the opportunity to plant new ideas, gathering momentum as my year has progressed.  I sought to re-balance priorities and make space for new growth.  It worked!  It’s amazing what flows into your life when you make space for it to happen. 

    Our internal cycles don’t necessarily follow those of our planet, but there’s no better time than now to think about our life balance and consider if it’s time to plant new internal seeds, and make space for them to grow.  What are you waiting for? 

    second springDownload