Flying back to a full nest

Have you ever felt as if you’ve lost your purpose on this planet?

If you have then you’ll know what a scary and lonely place that can be.

I found myself in that scary, lonely place back in 2022 - hot on the heels of a relationship break-up, my son flying the nest, and of course, the small matter of a world still reeling from a global pandemic.

Trying to escape the loneliness caused by my break-up, my son leaving home and people still not quite ready to socialise much after the pandemic (does anyone else remember how exhausting it felt to meet in person after months in lockdown?!) I tried losing myself in my work.

I took on a year-long contract as an editor for a publishing house on top of the two historical novels I was already contracted to write. And, oh yes, I volunteered a few hours a week at a non-profit.

Sadly, but perhaps not surprisingly, my cunning plan didn’t work and within months I was suffering from burnout on top of loneliness and a lack of purpose.

To be honest, I’d been completely unprepared for quite how achingly empty my empty nest was going to feel.

I was the kind of parent who revelled in seeing my son make his own way in the world. I was infinitely proud that he had the courage and get up and go to get up and go and work in another country. Especially when that country was war torn Ukraine, where he’d got a job in the humanitarian sector helping victims of the full scale invasion.

with my son the day before he left for Ukraine

I’d always known that I’d be sad and miss him when he left home for good but I hadn’t anticipated feeling such an acute loss of purpose as a result.

It turned out that I’d derived a HUGE sense of purpose in my role as his mum - perhaps especially so because I’d been a single mum since he was four.

Maybe if the pandemic hadn’t happened it would have hit differently - more gently - but walking around my empty apartment day after day, studiously avoiding my son’s former bedroom, the loss hit me like repeated hammer blows.

Then, in a random twist of fate that I still give thanks for every day, I was invited to co-host a writing retreat in Jamaica … and at the last minute it was cancelled.

Why, I hear you ask, would I give thanks for this?!

Well, actually, I give thanks to my friend who had booked to come on the retreat, for persuading me to go with her to Jamaica anyway and take an unexpected holiday instead.

But it was to be a holiday with a twist - in that we would avoid any kind of package deal where we’d be locked away in a resort, and create our own authentic Jamaican adventure instead.

Our first port of call was to stay on a farm run by Rastas up in the mountains. As soon as their driver picked us up from the airport and we were bumping along the potholed roads, swerving round the many stray chickens and goats that meandered into our path, I felt a massive shift inside of me.

It was like being jolted awake after a years’ long sleep.

Everything was so vibrant and alive. And so completely different to anything I’d ever seen or experienced before.

one of my first Jamaican sights

Midway through the journey our driver pulled over to a roadside stall so we could get some jerk chicken and fried dumplings called festivals that I would soon come to love. As I sat at the roadside, licking the sticky sauce from my fingers, all of my deadened senses came fizzing back to life.

We returned to the car just as twilight was falling and I wanted to cry tears of joy as we sped along, reggae tunes pumping from the stereo as the headlights cast arcs of gold across fields of sugar cane.

In the years of being grounded during the pandemic I’d completely forgotten how much I loved to travel and experience new settings.

It was as if I’d had to fly halfway round the globe to be reunited with the woman I used to be.

The trip was wonderful and as soon as I got back to the UK, I booked a month-long trip to the US, to start as soon as my contract with the publishing house ended, staying in a cabin in the Ozarks in a wonderful town full of hippies and creatives called Eureka Springs.

I wanted to see if I had what it took to rock up in a brand new place where I knew no-one and write my books and hopefully make new friends.

That trip was also a huge success, so I booked another and another. And then, in spring 2023, on my way home from a trip to see my son in Ukraine, it occurred to me that rather than pay extortionate rental prices in the UK I could give up my home altogether and travel and work full-time as a digital nomad.

It was a massive lightbulb moment: I didn’t have to stay in my empty nest - I could fly it too!

There then followed another wonderful year - the best year of my life in fact.

I travelled around France and returned to Eureka Springs, staying in a magical writers colony there. I treated my son and his Ukrainian girlfriend to a new years holiday in a cosy cabin in Norway. I went to Portugal to promote a book of mine that had been published there. I taught a writing class in California and I attended writing groups in Stockholm and Aberdeen. I went on an extremely moving solo trip to Auschwitz and spent a month in Krakow and Warsaw. I wrote the first draft of a novel holed up in an apartment in the Netherlands - right by a ‘coffee shop’ ( that was excellent for my creative thinking, if you know what I’m saying!) and I visited my son again in Ukraine.

And throughout it all I can honestly say that I’d never felt so light and happy and free.

I didn’t think about having a sense of purpose at all to be honest - I was too busy living in the moment, connecting and creating and adventuring.

And maybe that’s the best possible purpose a human can have: to simply live every moment to the fullest as their authentic self.

Because on my solo travel adventures I didn’t just meet the woman I used to be - I met the woman I was born to be.

What a f***ing gift!

Everything came to a head in the best and worst of ways when I returned to Ukraine last summer for my son’s wedding, and sadly experienced the horrific drone and missile attacks on Lviv that killed many innocent civilians, including a mother and her three daughters, just around the corner from my daughter-in-law’s family home.

with my son and daughter-in-law at their defiantly joy-filled wedding two days after the bombing

After the wedding I travelled to Paris - my go-to place to be my freest, most empowered creative self. And while I was there I made the decision to finally realise a long held dream and spend six months in Paris in 2025, with a view to applying for an artist’s visa if all went well, so I could create a nomadic base there.

But then, in November, disaster struck, when my dad was taken seriously ill.

Regular readers of this Substack will know that he has never fully recovered and has been pretty much housebound since, needing carers to visit four times a day to get him washed and dressed and make his meals

For four months I stayed in the UK, booking Airbnbs for a month at a time so that I could help my siblings take care of him too - I have been appointed his Official Laundry Fairy!

Then, a couple of months ago, after my weekly visit to my dad, I met up with my son and daughter-in-law, who have now moved to the UK.

My ex-husband had very kindly invited them to stay with him but it wasn’t ideal as it meant that he was having to sleep on his couch in the living room.

‘I wish we could afford to rent somewhere,’ my son told me, over a Ukrainian feast of borscht and my favourite crispy yet oh so creamy deruny potato pancakes. ‘But everywhere’s so expensive where we are.’

I nodded in sympathy. ‘Tell me about it. I’m spending a fortune on UK Airbnbs.’

Then my son’s face lit up. ‘What if the three of us got a place together?’

We hopped straight onto the Rightmove website and had a quick search for rentals in the area where he and his wife are now living and working. An area that’s just a 40 minute train ride from my Dad’s part of London.

As soon as we did the sums and divided the rental prices by three we saw that it wouldn’t just be affordable - it would be super affordable!

And as my dad’s health and ageing issues are irreversible and I’m most definitely in it for the long haul when it comes to helping care for him, the thought of decreasing my outgoings by almost a grand a month was like having a huge load lifted from my shoulders.

It would also mean that I could still be a part-time nomad, taking regular shorter trips away.

What happened next was a bit of a whirlwind.

I went to Ukraine for a research and writing trip and while I was there my son went to view a property.

We put in an offer, not thinking for a moment that it would be accepted, but a couple of days later we found out that it had and we’d be moving in in a month!

It all happened so quickly I still had Airbnbs booked up until next week but last weekend I went to visit the new property to assemble the furniture for my bedroom-office and get it set up.

essentials first - mattress, writing desk and lucky lei from Eureka Springs!

One of the many perks of getting rid of most of my worldly goods to travel and live as a minimalist means that this will be the easiest house move I’ve ever made in that I only have two suitcases of possessions to my name!

And this is something that I’m determined to stick to. I’ve given my son and daughter-in-law free reign over furnishing the living room and kitchen. All I want and need for now is my bedroom-office and bathroom.

I like knowing that if I ever wanted to, I could easily fly free again.

But for now, this mama is returning to her new nest - a nest that now has a much loved daughter as well as a son, and who knows, maybe some day there’ll be a baby grand-chick too!

And the loveliest thing of all is that our new nest is just around the corner from my ex husband.

Although our marriage break-up was definitely for the best, it always saddened me over the years when I thought of my son growing up and getting married, as I assumed that his dad and I would be living miles apart and we’d never get to do things all together.

When I officially move in next week, the four of us are going out for a celebratory dinner - and there’s even talk of us all getting an allotment!

Every time I think of this surprise family plot twist I can’t stop smiling. And my dad is over the moon about it too.

Speaking of which, we’ve just convinced him to get a wheelchair and tomorrow I’ve promised to take him out to sit beneath some of his beloved trees followed by a pint in his local pub. This will be the first time he’ll have been out anywhere since last November.

And as I reach the conclusion of this week’s letter to you, I can see a lovely theme emerging.

Sometimes you can feel certain that something is well and truly over but it turns out that life has a delightful card up its sleeve for you.

A housebound 85 year old man can sit beneath the trees and enjoy a beer again, and an empty nest can magically refill with even more people.

It reminds me of a line I wrote in my most recent novel: ‘Sometimes what appears to be the end can actually be the prologue for something truly delightful.’

So please, my dear Dare Dream Doers, never ever give up - on life or on yourself.

Until next week, sending so much love,

Siobhan