Starting here: The Valley

I didn’t plan this.

There was no big decision or turning point where I sat down and decided to start writing. It just reached a point where everything in my head needed somewhere to go that wasn’t my own mind.

For most of my life I lived in what I now think of as the valley.

The valley is where you function.

You work. You socialise. You keep going.

From the outside, nothing looks especially wrong.

But inside, it’s heavy. Foggy. Tight.

You’re tired all the time but don’t really know why.

You feel different but can’t explain it.

You keep trying to fix things without knowing what’s actually broken.

I spent years there. Longer than I’d like to admit.

Depression. Anxiety. Loneliness. Confusion. Relationships that didn’t fit. Jobs that didn’t feel right. Friendships that slowly revealed they were built on habit rather than connection.

At the time, I thought I was failing at life.

Looking back now, I wasn’t failing. I just hadn’t started climbing yet.

The strange thing is, you don’t realise you’ve begun the climb while you’re doing it. There’s no signpost. No announcement. No clear sense of progress. You just stop running from yourself and start paying attention.

Very slowly.

Very painfully.

Very honestly.

You lose people along the way.

Illusions fall apart.

Old versions of you stop making sense.

For a while, that feels worse rather than better.

But then something shifts.

You stop needing approval.

You stop chasing noise.

You stop performing versions of yourself for other people’s comfort.

You don’t suddenly become happy.

You become clear.

This blog isn’t here to teach anything.

It’s not advice. It’s not therapy. It’s not a brand.

It’s a place to put the thoughts that come after the chaos.

After the breakdowns.

After the betrayals.

After the years of trying to survive without really understanding why it felt so hard.

Some of what I write will be calm.

Some of it won’t.

Some of it will contradict earlier thoughts, because that’s what real reflection looks like.

This is me, mid climb, looking back down the valley and forward into whatever comes next.

No promises.

No lessons.

Just honesty.

If you recognise any of it, good.

If you don’t, that’s fine too.

Either way, this is where I’m starting.