What The Fire Taught Me

If I’m completely honest with myself, last year was a bit of a dumpster fire for me. In fact, I flamed out pretty spectacularly. To the point that I couldn't even face the idea of working again for almost a year. If you know me, you’ll know this is totally out of character. I’ve been working since I was seventeen. I got my first graphic design and marketing job when I was nineteen.

But by middle of 2023, I had been working as a social media manager for nearly ten years, and survived a global pandemic, also riots, flooding and the early teenage years of my testosterone-fuelled, big-personality son.

Out of work, no money, mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, I thought it couldn't get much worse.

Then my dog died.

Scooby was my first real rescue dog. We picked him up from a local shelter when he was two or three. He’d been a homeless street mutt, so no one was exactly sure of his age. The poor baby had scald burns on his back from where somebody had thrown boiling water at him.

Despite all this, the first time I met Scooby he ran into my arms like we were long lost friends and he had finally found me again. I knew he was coming home with us straightaway. Scooby was a love bug, this mid-sized, goofy dog that would always find an excuse to squirm onto your lap whenever he could.

So, when he got biliary (tick bite fever) last year and wasted away in front of me within a matter of weeks despite all the vet visits and meds, it was the last petrol-soaked match that burned my whole world down to the ground. He died and nothing I did, no matter how hard I tried, could save him. It was a pretty bleak but accurate metaphor for my whole life just then.

Not matter how hard I tried. I couldn't help myself either.

I was completely lost and I did what I always do when this happens, I isolated myself even further from the world and stopped taking care of myself. Not a great solution I realise now, but at the time, I wasn't exactly doing my best thinking.

When you hit the bottom though, thankfully that's often where you find your feet and just sometimes, if you're lucky, the strength to push your way back up again. Thankfully, in that hopeless place, with the flames all around me, I finally found the inner strength to ask for help.

You can't do it alone, I had to learn again and again over the next few weeks and months. If it weren't for my patient, loving husband and a truly caring team of mental health care professionals, I may have died in that mental health fire.

It took time and effort, but I slowly walked out of that dark space and felt myself coming back to life. I’m more comfortable in my own skin now and confident in my ability to handle whatever life throws at me.

Along the way, a wonderful woman and true friend helped me find my way professionally again. With this, I rediscovered my passion and energy. It's amazing how different work can feel when you're really appreciated, fairly compensated and you're doing something you enjoy doing!

Looking back now, I’m actually grateful that last year my world burned to the ground. It gave me a chance to rebuild. And this time, with more care and thought as to how I want this new version to be. I could now make it a space that supports me, that welcomes me and is resilient, kind and loving.

I’m no phoenix for sure, l’m more like a scrappy green seedling, finding her place in the world again after the flames have died down and everything is coming back to life.

I don't wish pain and suffering on anyone. I know just how destructive and agonising the fires of life can be. But fires can be cleansing too. Sometimes we barely survive them and sometimes we’re stronger because of them.

I guess the lesson I took from this was, if you find yourself at the centre of a raging inferno, don't give up, keep walking, because there might just be a better version of your life waiting for you on the other side.