32 (almost), flirty & thriving

How I turned fear into freedom, embraced the unknown, and built a life that truly lights me up.

It’s my birthday in less than a week, and maybe I should be, but I’m not scared of turning 32.

There’s a weird sense of security in that number.

I mean, it goes without saying that I still feel about 18, but there’s something comforting about being in my early thirties. Despite the fact that I’m single, technically homeless, definitely not close to being a homeowner, an aspiring dog owner, and someone who still thinks porridge is the best breakfast around.

The version of me as a teenager who imagined life at 32 would probably laugh (or cry) at the reality. But I own it. I have to—it’s the life I chose.

For those of you who don’t know the long story, I went from corporate media and marketing jobs in London to becoming (and I hate this term, but it fits) a ‘digital nomad.’ I’ll write another Substack post about why I loathe that term later, but let’s stay on track.

I went from casually dating someone I could see a future with (who didn’t see the same future with me) to quitting my job and spending six months solo travelling through Central America, freelancing for the one client I managed to land before I left. I discovered breathwork and fell in love with it. I pushed myself to the edge of my comfort zone over and over again.

I sailed and saw pilot whales. I met incredible people and made lifelong friends I know will be at my wedding one day. I made terrible travel decisions (including staying in some gross hostels). I followed the sun in a desperate, almost spiritual pilgrimage, as though it held the answers to all my problems. I snorkelled with sharks and eagle rays. I surfed the biggest waves I’d ever seen. I gave up drinking—then caved—and decided to be a conscious drinker. I gave up coffee for good. I invested in my own healing through hypnosis, somatic shaking, breathwork, somatic Pilates, and learning about my mind-body connection. I went in a hot air balloon. I hiked one extinct volcano and the side of one active volcano.

I danced barefoot under the moonlight. I had romances and unexpected deep connections. I even became a bit of a bird watcher (yes, I downloaded the Merlin app—basically Shazam for bird song). I got my nose re-pierced and felt more like myself.

I was terrified that all the progress I’d made would evaporate the moment I returned home.

It didn’t.

It grew.

It got better.

I became a breathwork teacher. My relationships with my family improved because I could manage my cortisol and stress. I connected more deeply with friends I adore. I threw myself into freelancing and landed clients. I followed my instincts, trusting that no matter what financial hurdles came my way, I’d overcome them—and I did. I accepted help when I needed it, something I’d always avoided out of pride.

Slowly, my life came into clearer focus. I stuck to my daily breathwork practice, and my energy shifted. I realised I could be both a marketing strategist and a breathwork teacher, combining them in a way nobody else had. I could even use my online women’s magazine to support it. The vision for my career expanded again.

I travelled to Singapore and Australia, and after an intense breathwork session at Uluru, I received a clear message: You’re not done travelling. You’re not ready to settle. Come back to Australia.

I tested out Lisbon for two months. I laughed and bonded deeply with a dear cousin. I invested in a mentor who challenged me in all the right ways. I refined my brand’s messaging, and suddenly, people started finding me. Brands wanted to collaborate. My vision as a freelancer evolved again.

I played tennis, tried padel, went to networking events, ate seafood, and devoured too many Portuguese custard tarts. Demand for my breathwork classes grew. I launched a marketing coaching offer, and people bought it. I lost clients and onboarded new ones with ease. I read book after book. I spoke on podcasts about my journey. Friends—and even strangers—messaged me to say they’d tried breathwork because of me. My aunt had her best sleep in 10 years after a breathwork session I made for her.

I went on dates—some misses, others magnetic, but badly timed. I’ve maintained a virtual connection with someone I met in Australia that I keep circling back to.

2024 was a year of complete transformation for me—body, mind, soul, and career.

Yes, I’m still single as I turn 32. Yes, I wish I wasn’t. Like so many of my friends, I wish I’d found the one and was planning a future with them. But my timeline is different, and I’m embracing it. Do I have doubts? Of course. At heart, I’m still a scared little girl. But now, I know—with every fibre of my being—that everything will work out exactly as it’s meant to.

It’s taken work. It still takes work every day. But every time I release the need to control outcomes and open myself to possibilities, I’m guided in the right direction (I say as I sit here writing this, back in Australia).

Some call it fate. Others call it Divine guidance or God. I call it the universe—a constellation of stars and planets I like to imagine aligning me with the exact right place, person, and timing.

Does that mean I’ll sit back and let life just happen to me? Absolutely not.

My plan for 2025 is simple.

I’ve written a list of the things that light me up inside—things that make hours feel like minutes. Those are the things, people, and places I’ll pour my energy into this year. They’re what make me feel like me: a passionate, bold, loyal, clumsy (and allergy-ridden) almost 32-year-old woman.

Because those are the things that make me feel truly alive. Single or not.

Happy Birthday to me.