A Year of Highs, Lows - and Finding My Way Back

As years go, 2025 was something of a roller coaster.

There were many times that were full and fun - where I felt happy and satisfied. We enjoyed a wonderful trip to Europe with friends and family. We finished a renovation on our family home, setting us up for the years ahead. We celebrated my parents’ 60th wedding anniversary - an extraordinary milestone. And there were a couple of raucous weekends making new memories with long-time friends.

On the surface, everything looked grand.

But underneath, there was a growing sense of unease.

Threaded through the year were harder moments. My husband’s role was made redundant, creating new dynamics in our relationship. My father had a an unexpected health scare - a confronting reminder of how fragile good health can be. I developed a constant, low-level worry about our three 20+ year old children - nothing specific, and logically I knew it was unwarranted, but it was a background hum I couldn’t quieten. Even rowing, my exercise of choice which usually invigorates me at the start of the day, began to feel draining. My time on the water started to feel more like obligation than joy.

By mid-year, I experienced a period of mild anxiety that caught me completely off guard. Enough that I pulled out of a planned holiday. There were lots of tears. At the time, it felt like I was in the middle of the hardest year of my life - unable to see or feel the joy that had also been there.

I’m acutely aware that as I write this, I am sitting in a place of enormous privilege. I have a safe home, a supportive family, access to good healthcare and options. This isn’t a story of hardship - it’s a story of contrast. Of how a life can be rich and full, and still feel off-centre at times.

And that contrast is exactly why I wanted to start this site.

I don’t want to create another glossy lifestyle space that presents an idealised version of midlife - endless travel, perfect dinners, serene wellbeing routines. That content has its place, but it often leaves out the texture of real life: the uncertainty, the recalibration, the quiet moments when you realise something needs to shift, even if nothing is technically “wrong”.

In the second half of 2025, with the help of my GP and a therapist, I prioritised my mental health in a way I hadn’t before. The diagnosis was "low mood" - or a mild depression. Over time, as I became more in tune with how I was feeling day to day, and learned to respond with a more care and perspective, I gradually started to feel my energy and positivity return.

Now I feel lighter. Clearer. Less reactive. And with that has come a growing sense that my next chapter isn’t about doing more - it’s about returning to myself. I should also say that the anxiety didn’t exist in a vacuum. Navigating menopause - and the trial and error of managing hormone levels - certainly played a part. It took time to connect the dots, and longer still to find a balance that felt right. This is one of the reasons that health and wellness, in a very real and lived sense, will be part of what I explore here.

I’m sliding - sometimes not so gently - towards 60. My children have left home. And I’ve stepped back from full-time work into part-time, a conscious choice that’s given me something I haven’t had in a long while: time. Not spare time filled with obligations, but actual space.

So this year, my quiet resolution is to rediscover what lights me up.

Creativity - returning to things that bring me joy, like crafts, cooking and playing the piano. Prioritising both mental and physical health. Connecting meaningfully with friends old and new. Making time for shared experiences with my husband. And enjoying the deep, quiet happiness of watching my children blossom into balanced, capable young adults.

I've created Coastal Granny as a place to explore health, connections and creativity at this stage of life - honestly, thoughtfully and without pretending that everything is simple or sorted. It’s about ageing well, but also ageing real. About shifting identities, evolving relationships, and finding meaning beyond the roles we’ve long inhabited. I don’t have answers. I’m not offering a blueprint. What I do have is curiosity, time and a genuine desire to live this next phase with more presence and ease.

If you’re somewhere similar - feeling grateful and unsettled at the same time, ready to reclaim parts of yourself, or simply wondering what’s next - you’re very welcome here.

Come along for the ride - and feel free to contribute too.