Finding Calm In The Wildest Moments

This month has reminded me of some universal truths I’ve only really absorbed through motherhood, but they apply to all of us, no matter what stage of life we’re in.

A few weeks ago, I was in Los Angeles for the Summit of Greatness. I had booked the ticket almost a year ago, back when it felt like a stretch. But one thing I learned from this trip, is that when you plant something in your calendar for your future self, it bypasses the guilt. By the time it comes around it feels like a surprise gift you tucked away and forgot about. Sitting in that room listening to Andrew Huberman, Amy Purdy, and Matthew Hussey talk about productivity hacks, resilience, and growth mindset, I realised how rare it is to step outside our daily rhythms and look up at the bigger picture. I laughed with the best of friends, indulged in great food and came back in a bubble of good energy, where everything feels possible. 

Days later, life handed me the opposite. We had a much-awaited family trip to Portugal, and both my daughters got terribly sick. There was vomiting, endless laundry, barely-eaten meals. At one point, my 6-year-old even fainted mid-flight. The panic of that moment was real, but what struck me even more was the unexpected kindness of strangers around us. And then, how quickly I moved on. My daughter fainted on a plane, and instead of spiraling, I just took it as another wild, unforgiving motherhood moment. Because that’s what motherhood trains you for - you don’t get to sit in it for too long. There’s always the next thing, the next need, the next moment waiting.

There were nights where I was sandwiched between two sick kids, one waking up to vomit and the other for diarrhoea - for 8 straight hours through to the morning. The relentless of it all was exhausting, but somehow - because you have no other choice - you just get on with it. And still, in the midst of all that chaos, I found myself in the middle of the forest with my son, actually enjoying myself. Sneaking in short walks, reading a book whilst someone slept, eating smores by the fire. And I realised that whilst not perfect, these moments were so much more than enough. Because magic is not reserved for those who experience blissful, perfect moments. It's available for anyone that chooses to find it. 

That’s when it hit me - life isn’t one long stretch of good or bad, it’s contrast. Joy and disappointment. Laughter and meltdowns. Conferences and sick days. Fainting spells and forest walks. They don’t arrive separately, they arrive together. And as I'm growing in motherhood I am realising that maybe the point isn’t to fight the contrast, but to expect it, because contrast is the design, not the disruption.

Another truth I realised on this trip - motherhood has trained me to move on quickly. You don’t get to stew in frustration or shock for long because the next laugh, the next question, the next mess is already waiting. At first, I thought this was just survival - the classic "parental survival" you always read about, which rests on the thought that you're just making it through day by day. But I’m starting to see it not as survival but as a form of wisdom. Imagine if we could all let go that fast - in work, in friendships, in our own self-criticism, how much more space would we make for what comes next.

And then there are the pockets - pockets of joy, of calm, of connection. We’re conditioned to believe fulfilment comes from the big things - the big trip, the big win, the big moment on stage. But often, it’s in the smallest slices of time. An espresso on the balcony. A forest walk between sick days. Those pockets I’m convinced, matter just as much as the milestones.

So here’s my advice to whoever is reading this: book gifts for your future self, because they’re always worth it. Accept contrast as the way life keeps us awake. Learn to move on quickly, not just because you have to, but because freedom lives there. And never overlook the pockets, because sometimes, they hold the very thing you’ve been waiting for.