26/03/2026
March 2026 vs March 2020… nearly 6 years of becoming!
March has always held weight for me. Seasons shifting, my brother’s birthday, exams, change in the air. But 2020? That was a beginning I never saw coming.
I was 18, uncertain, in love with the wrong things, and standing on the edge of reinvention… only for the world to pause with a lockdown that shook the world to the core (for obvious reasons).
The years that followed weren’t linear. 2021 felt… Foolhardy, afraid, overly confident, and it frustrated me. I was lost in my degree and my relationships were growing fickle due to this innate sense of disconnection to the world surrounding me. My friends from uni became family, but I’d never isolated myself as much from my calling to writing as ever before — regardless of the ongoing support surrounding me (which I came to feel even deeper later in the year).
2022 broke me wide open and splayed me to the world. It had been barely a year from when I lost my mum, and yet somehow, with the love around me; I was rebuilt piece by piece.
2023 brought quiet triumph, finishing my degree and finding a sense of self again. Now, ahead of me, lay a sea to navigate of working in the pearlescent marketing world. My brother was about to move to Johannesburg to endeavour into the legal field, my father was dancing again, and the season was bright with optimism. I had shed the many skins I had been accumulating; doubt, resentment, fear, loneliness, and anger. Suddenly, I was able to be enough. And feel whole.
2024 felt fearless, alive, expansive.
2025… a work-in-progress wobble. Overworked, near loss, pulling inward, learning the hard way.
And now, March 2026. Softer. Wiser. Cooking love letters to the world, writing, freelancing, tasting life again in my own rhythm. Not fearing food, but embracing it.
It hasn’t been perfect. I’ve doubted myself, lost my way, dug burrows. Deep holes with no real evidence nor direction towards a light at the end of the tunnel.
But I took my lessons, a spoonful of sugar at a time, and climbed those rocks to where I am now.
Slowly, gently, I climbed out.
And maybe that’s the point. Not perfection. Just continuing.
💛