Blowing in the wind

Blowing in the wind: a journey of self-discovery

The morning I started writing this, I had spent an hour sat on the kitchen floor crying. I was asking myself yet again “What am I doing?”. This question has come up multiple times over the last few years - at varying degrees of crises - often resulting in me sitting on the kitchen floor in tears.
I’m a cryer.

My first kitchen floor moment was when my mum was ill. We’d spent all day at the hospital for her chemotherapy treatment. As I left the hospital and switched on my phone, hundreds of emails, messages and voicemails came flooding in. The problem was mars bars. The factory that made mars bars, a customer of ours, had shut down, because of an error from my team. All this noise and fuss was over some chocolate bars. As I was making dinner that evening, the absurdity of the situation struck me. I’d spent all day sat in a room with people fighting for their lives, and now I was going to spend all evening working out why the world was short of a few mars bars.

As tears started pouring down my face at the frustration and grief of the whole situation, I slid down onto the floor and asked myself. “What am I doing?”

My mum was a huge Bob Dylan fan, and we often listened to his raspy tones all through my childhood. One of his most famous lines is this: the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind. I didn’t realise at the time, but that moment on the kitchen floor was the start of a journey for me, and I would find the answer to that question by blowing in the wind.

Some Context

Let me first give you some context. If life was a check list of achievements, I had ticked a lot: Straight A student; engineering masters degree; corporate job; company car; beautiful house I owned with my partner at the time. I had built around me the life that I’d always wanted. Or at least, I thought I’d always wanted. But in that moment on the kitchen floor when I asked myself what I was doing, the real question I was asking is whether this is really the life that I wanted.

This question was like a loose thread on a jersey that I kept tugging at until it completely unravelled and the structure of my life became a ball of wool in a pile on the floor. Within 18 months of that moment, I was single, unemployed, grieving my mother’s death and living on a farm in Nepal. One morning, I was digging in the mud to find root ginger which was tricky because the ginger was the same colour as the mud. It was 32 degrees. I was sweaty, muddy and digging for my breakfast. I cried. It was not where I had expected to end up. But at the same time, I was incredibly happy.

I had studied and worked hard for over a decade to build my old life and the security that came with it, and now I was giving it all up with no clear answer of what I was giving it up for. But in that moment in the ginger infused mud, I knew that I needed to find out who I really was, and not who I thought I should be. I needed to let go of the identities that had kept me safe until now. I would find the answer to my question, “What am I doing” by answering a different question: “Who am I?”.

So off I went again, blowing in the wind.

The wind blew me for a few years through India, Dubai, Greece, Italy, America and ending in South Africa. I went back to university to do a masters in psychology. I did a spell working as a gym instructor and as a delivery driver.
I said yes to every opportunity that came up, and so I began to learn about myself. I learned that I love teaching spin classes. I hate sky diving. I like shiraz but hate cab sauvignon. I am good at listening to others. I can’t use chopsticks. I’m a decent water skier. I am terrible at being alone.

All these tiny jigsaw pieces of myself started falling into place and through this, I started to build a new sense of self and new identities.But I still have moments of feeling entirely isolated and lost. My life still felt like that messy pile of wool on the floor.
One morning, when I was back in the UK and after another heartbreak, I found myself on the kitchen floor. Crying. This time I knew that I couldn’t continue blowing. I had to pick myself up and stand with my two feet in the ground. Rather than unravelling all the old threads of my life, it was time to start knitting together a new life.

I booked my flight back to South Africa and applied for a visa. I enrolled in a coaching course and started building business proposals. I carried on reading, exploring, saying yes to opportunities, but this time with a firm anchor in myself. Rather than blowing, I was sailing in the wind, with a clear direction and purpose.

But now, I could find solace in the inner strength that has come from knowing who I truly am. Rather than despairingly crying “What I am I doing?”, I take a deep breath, realign with my purpose and move forward “What am I doing… next”.

Hilary Davies

Last year on my birthday, eight months after being back in South Africa, I had a small gathering of friends for sundowners on the beach. As the sky burned from orange to pink to deep magenta, I, unsurprisingly, started crying again. This time, tears of gratitude mixed with laughter.

Never mind being my birthday, it felt like every day was a gift. I was living in the most beautiful city in the world. I was surrounded by people who loved me. I was swimming, hiking, drinking delicious red wine and in general filling my life with activities that bring me joy and peace.
On top of that, I had a new career as a coach and I was working on female empowerment projects. Every day, I was making a difference in someone else’s life. I had found my purpose. And that didn’t involve mars bars.
Its still a process. I still have my kitchen floor moments. I still cry. But now, I could find solace in the inner strength that has come from knowing who I truly am. Rather than despairingly crying “What I am I doing?”, I take a deep breath, realign with my purpose and move forward “What am I doing… next”.

The years of blowing in the wind had helped me discover who I am. The life I live now is not one I would have been able to describe when I was sitting in the hospital with my mum. I needed to release my old life in order to make space for my new one. Each experience was a building block of the person I am now. The answer wasn’t, as Mr Dylan professed, blowing in the wind. The answer was always here within me. Now I can use the lessons I learned along my journey to support others to find their own purpose.

So I invite you on your own journey of exploration. Who are you? What are you doing? What are you doing next?