The end of a chapter not the story

Greetings from the outskirts of Porto in Portugal, where I’ve been locked away in a room for a week, living off tinned sardines and Pringles, trying to get a novel finished.

I’ve been living off tinned sardines because I’ve ended up in a neighbourhood that only has one grocery store (that I’ve been able to find anyway!) - a tiny place run by a lovely, twinkly-eyed older man. It reminds me of the part of Ireland my dad’s from - or at least how it was when we used to go on holiday there when I was a kid. No giant soulless superstores, just a selection of tiny shops - one selling bread, one meat, one newspapers and sweets. My fondest memories are of the sweetshop, which was run by a really old man named Ned - or at least he seemed really old to me when I was a child, he was probably only fifty! Anyway, Ned had a twinkle in his eye too and he was great friends with my grandad so he’d let me help myself to whatever sweets I wanted. I mean, is it any wonder I think back on him fondly? He was like the Irish Willy Wonka!

But I digress… here in my part of Porto there’s one little grocery store selling mainly tinned essentials and, as I discovered on my second day here, a secret basket of freshly baked goods under the counter!

my delicious(?) dinner

The only person I’ve spoken to this week, other than saying ‘ola’ and 'obrigada’ to the owner of the store when I pick up my daily bread rolls and sardines, was a journalist. She was interviewing me for a magazine that’s publishing a piece about me giving away all my worldly goods to go solo travelling.

Having to cast my mind back two years to when everything went to shit in my life, so to speak, was an interesting and uplifting experience, which was why I wanted to share it with you today.

In a nutshell, two years ago I’d bitten off way more than I could chew work-wise and was suffering from burnout, my relationship had just ended, I was living in a town I’d moved to during the pandemic and grown to hate, and my son had left home to work overseas. 

The magazine wanted to focus on my son leaving and how I’d ended up flying my empty nest, so I told the journalist how - although I was so proud and happy to see my son flourishing - it had seemed as if my role as a mum was over and as a result I felt as if I’d lost my main purpose in life. ‘I felt directionless and rudderless,’ I told her.

It took a few months of rudderlessness before it occurred to me that a major plus of my ‘empty nest’ was that I could fly it too! I’d always dreamed of travelling the world when I was younger, and I could do my work as an author anywhere as long as I had internet access and a laptop, so why didn’t I just go? 

So I went.

And now, two years later, everything has changed beyond all recognition for the better.

I’ve travelled to ten different countries - including Ukraine twice to visit my son - and in August I’m going back there again for his wedding to a wonderful Ukrainian woman.

some Porto pics

Two years ago, I felt as if my role as a mum was over. But soon I’m going to be gaining a daughter-in-law, and her lovely family have welcomed me as one of their own.

‘I can see now that my son moving abroad was just the end of a chapter,’ I told the journalist, ‘but not the end of the story.’

And as I spoke those words out loud I realised how true they are for so many things.

So often, endings can feel like the end of the world - whether it be a relationship, job or leaving a location - but without things coming to a close there’d be no opportunity for fresh new beginnings.

And even if we have no control over some endings, we do have control over our new beginnings. We can choose how we want the next chapter of our life to be.

I could have chosen to stay in a town I hated, moping around feeling lonely and bored, but I became the author of my story and I created a new chapter which has been crammed full of new friends and adventures.

It takes courage to begin anew. And time. It took me a year to pluck up the courage to leave my home in the UK and give away most of my belongings. But I haven’t regretted it for a single second.

So, if you’re feeling sad right now about something ending, I urge you to see your life as a story and brainstorm potential ideas for your next chapter. How could this ending be an opportunity? What steps could you take to become the lead role in your story (instead of an extra in someone else’s). What would you love to begin?

Wherever you are - in the world and in your story - I’m raising my sardine tin to you and wishing you courage, happiness and adventure.

Siobhan