A first blog to bring you into the story of this writer, speaker/performer exposing some much needed truths after a long necessary dark cave winter.

I keep seeing people’s online joy and sparkle as they reclaim the awe and wonder of life.

I keep seeing about baring to the darkness and allowing the unseen to be seen in order to get to your true self.I keep seeing people focused on their message.I want to say… yeah, yeah, well done love, I’ve been there, done that… but my first reaction, if I ever were to say that out loud would be - Soph, stop being a dick.What is being highlighted is that my focus is lost right now.

After 17yrs in the police, I have spent the last 5 not only being a mother, but investing in training, in… expansion - by this, I mean the standard yoga teacher training, then specialising in pregnancy yoga, then specialising in yoga Nidra (the practice of rest/sleep), having the coach, being the coach, doing the podcast course, doing the PR course, having half a website.

In amongst all of this has been the baring of my soul daily, writing, writing, writing - building a community, deleting community every time I switched lanes as interest declined, trying to keep my focus on track.

Money was tight, the faith strong. Nature as my guide, along with the gratitude of a lifestyle of coffee & notebook at locations of my choosing. Nursing my way from an identity I chose to relinquish and finding my feet within this new one.In amongst it all, as a continuation/evolution and sum of the whole experience, I self published a book of 70 stories about love revealing from the depths; revealing through the allowing of ALL AVAILABLE EXPRESSION, be it anger, hate, sadness, ‘sillyness’, dreamscape, poetry.The Truth of me out there in plain sight - between and on the line, to the world: brave, vulnerable and fucking awesome.I went one step further, into the bends of my soul’s oldest requests and wrote a one woman play. I performed it. Twice.

The whole time, both amazed at how accurate my prediction was - I wanted to write, rest, speak, had done it and yet, so… now what?

Content but not content.Loving both the process and the moment.
In awe of the twists, turns and synchronicities.

The bank account getting ever thinner (that’s not the way it was meant to go, I kept thinking).

Yes, I was totally ok with changing my mind every time i explored a new subject/project;

yes, I have learned I am not someone who will stick at something I don’t love with my whole body;

yes, I feel I have answered the soul’s calling towards my own liberation of self expression but what the fuck was it all for?

Fast forward to now. Right now. I am satisfied with how the book has done, given it has been a team of me, myself and hundreds of people who like my words who supported me in buying it, sharing it etc. I’m not making a living from it. Nowhere near. £20 a month ain’t gonna get you far. My play has been performed twice to incredible reviews. I am scared. Big statement. (More on this to come.) I have very little money. Don’t get me wrong. We have everything we need. We have a lovely house, a car, love and much food. There is little to no spending money. I work at the Maybush pub 15hrs a week to contribute enough to the household so the rest of the time is for me, us, my children and creative goals. This is another chapter altogether.

It took a while to embody working in a pub. A lot of ego was engrained in my fibre - I’m ashamed to say it - my own shame. I would cower every time i saw an old police colleague, or someone who came to my classes and they saw me wiping a table. “I didn’t know you were here! You here full time?” “I just do a few hours - I’m a writer these days, and I have a show, so this enables me to speak to people and do my thing too” - that’s a sense of the conversations, or words to that effect.

In November, I had an incredible opportunity and got in front of RADA Business to work freelance with them on voice/communication facilitation. I messed up the interview.

I received a ‘not right now’ reply.
It cut me deep.

Since then, throughout the winter, I have been quiet and licked my wounds - reaching more darkness and asking more refined questions around what I really wanted.

A journey into much humility. Reconciling my love and ease at conversing with people, being the one who comes in with a smile and knows she is here to serve. The consummate professional, wise to life and comfortable with herself. Now, I own it. I know why I’m where I am and the value of ALL of my experiences.

STILL: I am not fulfilled. I’ve lost my sense of purpose on social media. I don’t know what people expect of me (let’s stop this bollocks - I DON’T KNOW WHAT I EXPECT OF ME.)

If there is no direction, I will keep going round in circles. I’ve written about all of this in my book. Hence, why it pisses me off to see that life is in fact, my friends, a never ending cycle of going over similar lessons - because just when you thought you had dealt with that old story, another layer of it will open to you again.

Meanwhile, new people coming on to the scenes you were engaging in a few years back are selling out of tickets, sticking to the topic they have chosen and rinsing/repeating, creating joyful content around how awesome it is to be a human being and you realise that is NOT WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU.I’ve gone full circle

Nope. I’m on a labyrinth. Exactly where I’m meant.

Teaching Yoga always felt like a portal into something else… I’m through this portal but still not clear.I know I don’t want to run memberships and courses - even though I could. I don’t see this as being part of my core ‘business’.

I most definitely want to speak and I want to write, I want to perform - this is where I come the most alive! But I feel back to square one.

This is when I feel OLD. I am 45 years old, and to go through with this age old ambition is to dig REALLY deeply.I’ve already dug this far… I don’t know if I have the strength for further.

It’s easy in these moments to direct my fear and anger at the likes of all the people who look like it’s come easy to them.

To revel in the how wonderful it would have been, had Russell Brand chosen to publicly pick my book as one of his fave reads (i handed him a copy personally on 14/2 last year).How frustrated I’ve been he has repeatedly picked published authors and not pipped the independent.Well bollocks to you, it’s well written and powerful. It’s not scrappy notes someone thought they’d stick on Amazon. Everything was considered.How wonderful it would have been to get the RADA gig.How wonderful it would have been to be picked as ‘winner’ on the many writing competitions I’ve entered.How wonderful it would have been for my book proposal to be accepted and ‘finally’ be seen as a ‘legit’ writer.

How perhaps, I was meant to get this fire out of me and get back to policing - a job I loved - because this October would be the end of my 5 year career break.

How does this story go on? 

What’s the next chapter?

I’ve been told this around my expression: 

“you always seem to make it through the stickiness back to love. It’s a skill and it’s beautiful.”

Where’s the love in this lengthy post? 

I have MUCH to say.

THIS is WHAT I DO and I KNOW PEOPLE SEE THEMSELVES IN THIS TRUTH, but who reads long posts any more? Who is interested anymore?

The love is here. It is right here.

It’s in showing up to creating and taking the time to eke out these thoughts, these words, and then to share them. Simply. To know they may create nothing and/or everything. To know and trust that a ripple created in love is in the laps of a power greater than we.

Of course, I have the strength. I have so much strength, I scare myself.

I have so many words, so many conversations, so many worlds to feast on, I will never give up. And neither will you.