Every December I pause and gather the threads of my year.

It’s a lovely ritual, and I’m noticing I start earlier and earlier - maybe because the rush of Christmas can quickly give way to ‘back to work’, or because it feels so dark so early, or simply because it’s a nice thing to do.

It’s absolutely not about looking ahead yet, or creating goals or resolutions - it’s about looking back to see the journey.

In previous years I’ve focused a lot on finding the story of it - looking fully at the ups, the downs, the learning, the insights, the implications.

This year I’m appreciating how powerful it is to simply look back and see what happened, from the start to right now.

So much happens each day, but it’s easy to lose track of how it all adds up when we’re in it.

When I look back at my career timeline it looks seamless.

I’ve transitioned between different companies, industries, roles, labels, ways of working - and I can clearly see the thread that links them.

At the time? At each of those crossroads? Not so much!

At each of those points I was full of confusion. It’s a tricky time. Knowing that something has come to an end, but not what will start up next.

What I did know was what I didn’t want.

When I have the urge to write, it can be really tempting to wait until the idea is fully formed and perfect in my head before I put pen to paper.

My inner critic tells me that I don’t have time to work on it right now, or that I need to think about it more.

It also worries that it won’t be as good on the page as it is in my head, so there’s no point even trying.

For a long time, this meant I didn’t write anything, and all the ideas that bubbled up in me didn’t have anywhere to go. They stayed stuck inside - trapped by overthinking and under doing.

Now I give myself permission to create a messy first draft, because if the idea only exists in my head I’ll never know whether any of those worries are true.

I love this picture.

It represents the fun of being up high, the joy of early dog ownership, the beauty of seeing the landscape spread out down below.

It was taken on holiday in West Wales back in 2018. Freddie and I are at the top of Mwnt, while my husband and children are on the beach down below.

They were happy doing, and I was happy being and seeing them.

Seeing our lives from above like this can be both calming and grounding. Things really do look different, and feel different, when we look down on our lives rather than being in them.

It gives us a moment to pause, to see the bigger picture, to put things in context.

One simple question has made an enormous difference to my life, my relationships, my choices - and a lot of conversations with my husband: “Can I talk at you for a bit?”

I know now that when I’m stuck or need to work through something, I do my best thinking and feeling when the words come out of my head.

Often, I really don’t know how I feel about something until I say it out loud, and it can take me by surprise.

I’m so glad that I know this now, because it’s not a neat process.

It can take some time and lots of verbal circles - creating a messy first draft and then revising in real time. I need to follow the thread without worrying about it making sense.

And for that, I need a patient witness to listen and let me talk it out. To be OK with me talking AT them for a bit, rather than WITH them.