There are two journeys, two very different types of travel I have taken in my lifetime which have brought the most profound changes within, and as I sit quietly writing this post, as the morning sun takes hold across the Thames Estua
ry, I find myself reflecting on what has gone before and how two forms of travel, although incredibly different, have intertwined and been the most influential in me living my own life.
My youngest child, my Daughter will be turning 18 next month – I realise I will then no longer be a parent of children but instead a parent of adults.
I am left reflecting on the moment of their births, the differences in the experience and the travel I have gone through to get where I am today.
In one sense I am exactly the same person as before children, yet in another I am completely different. In my book ‘On Becoming a Mother,’ I write about travelling the desolate terrain of Motherhood, without guide or compass – each step you take being the place you learn from – like a form of endurance training or a race across grueling Antarctica.
The discomfort in the journey at times, can far outweigh the joy.
Then I think about what every parent should know about travelling with their kids and the joy of spending time with our family as the only society that mattered, far outweighed the discomfort of continuously being on the move.
And I realise that like physical travel, emotional travel – as you deal with what is necessary to bring up two children – carries you across diverse terrains, entering little known or heard of places. Forcing you to step up, take charge and do what is necessary to lead you towards your destination.