⏱️ 4 minute read

As we move toward Christmas Eve, I find myself back in Australia, but not in a place that feels like home yet. I’m watching a different community prepare for the holidays, smaller and more provincial, with a gentle humour and ease. The jokes about the terrible Christmas tree that’s been put up in town. The way people greet each other in passing. The way everything feels slower, less urgent.

I’m not really participating in Christmas this year. I’m observing it.

That feels new for me. Last Christmas in England was cold and grey, and I was caring for my parents. This year is warm, bright, and quiet. I’m on my own. It feels like I am between versions of myself.

And surprisingly, I’m okay here.

I’ve got my car now. With it comes the freedom to go where I want, when I want. I’m rolling with things rather than trying to expect or control the unknowns. Letting life unfold. Saying yes when it feels right. And no when it doesn’t.

There’s confidence now that I trust, even when doubt and fear appear. I’m learning to show myself grace as I adjust again to a new rhythm. I let the tears fall when they appear. I feel into those heart-soaring moments when everything feels perfect. I allow the different waves of emotion to ebb and flow.

This is my first Christmas truly empty nesting, and it’s heavy on my heart. Walking through Woolworths this morning, a familiar shopping space from home. The Christmas music. The food. And me, quietly crying behind my sunglasses. I missed my son so much in that moment. I felt the loss of my little family.

There was sadness. And also so much gratitude for this life.

One thing I’ve come to recognise, both through travel and through midlife itself, is how often our inner rhythms change before the world around us does. The annual holidays still ask for the same energy and the same traditions, but our bodies are no longer in that mode. We want quieter mornings. Less performance. More truth. So this year does feel different. Not because I’m missing out, or failing in some way, but because I’m becoming someone new.

My simple rituals, ones that have travelled with me for years now, continue to support me through transition emotionally, mentally, and physically. A walk. Some yoga. Time at the little beach I’ve found, coffee in hand, watching the water and feeling myself smile. These rituals help me find myself wherever I am.

I’ve been here almost four weeks now, and I’m beginning to step into community. A Christmas barbecue. A night out. A big New Year’s Eve gathering coming up. Camping over Christmas. A movie night at a vineyard, sitting outside at a cellar door, local wine in hand, watching an Australian film as the air cooled and people laughed and talked around us.

What fascinates me most are the people. Listening to their stories. Someone who’s run prawn trawlers. Others who’ve worked FIFO. Pearl divers. Vineyard owners. People who restyle homes. Small business owners. Different rhythms of life, different relationships to land, work, and time. I find myself quietly taking it all in.

I don’t feel the need to rush to belong. I’m watching. Allowing connections to form in their own time.

This place is very different to the Gold Coast. Smaller. Quieter. Less anonymous. And as I drive through the incredible countryside, I feel an excited curiosity about the connections to be made and the opportunities yet to reveal themselves.

This Christmas doesn’t feel like a celebration or a nothing. It feels personal. Like standing on a suspension bridge. A moment of stillness as a new story begins to take shape.

I’m independent now. I’m comfortable with that truth. I’m grateful to be here.

Wishing you all a Happy Holidays wherever you may be 🙏

The Midlife Butterfly