Drifting, directionless, done-in – and what I did next

Ever found yourself drifting without a compass? Me too. Now it's time to regain control and figure out what really matters

Photo by Asal S.i on Unsplash

It’s been a hell of a year.

For the first time in a long while, I found myself without a clear professional role and it hit me harder than I expected. Journalism has never been just a job for me. It’s been my life. The thing that gives shape to my days and (let’s be honest) most of my personality.

So when that went quiet… so did I. A bit too quiet.

And as if one major life change wasn’t enough, we decided to move back to Scotland, joining a new community and buying a house that’s basically held together by hope, artex and pink gloss that took sanding and four coats of white to cover up.

Then, because the gods weren’t having enough of a giggle at me, I was also hit by this raging Covid-type bug that knocked me flat for several weeks.

Until one morning I woke up and realised I was drifting. Drifting and with no compass to help me find my way (not that I have any clue how to use a compass).

There was no dramatic moment – I mean, I didn’t find myself running round the aisles at the Co-op with a pair of knickers on my head, fun as that might sound. It was just a subtle feeling that I was moving, but not moving forward. That life was carrying me along.

And if you’re someone like me, someone who’s always had a sense of purpose at their back, that’s unsettling.

The thing is, drift and flow can look weirdly similar. You’re busy, you’re active, but somehow you end up five miles off where you meant to be and wondering why you’re staring at the council tip and not the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

Flow moves you with purpose. Drift just lets the tide take you.

So I’ve decided it’s time to stop the drift.

Don’t worry – this isn’t some grand reinvention. I’m not selling all my stuff and moving to a yurt and with the state of my downward dog, there’ll be no sunrise yoga photos. Instead, I’m simply taking a breath and figuring out what’s right for me now.

I’m asking: what do I actually want?

One answer came easily – Chris Hemsworth.

Okay, sensibly now… Women’s health is where my fire is. Where I get angry in the good, useful way, the way that led me to start Pausitivity because 51% of society shouldn’t be suffering gaps in care and lack of support. The injustice lights my fire and I know I can help drive the change we so desperately need. So that’s where I’m planting my flag – frayed as it is right now – and starting my slightly knackered, but keeping-going comeback.

Here's what I’m doing to claw back a bit of control and it might help you, too – nothing wild, just tiny course corrections that keep me (mostly) pointed in the right way. And with my sense of direction, that’s a win.

Get clear on what’s draining you

Wake up and you’re busy and active but feeling: “Meh”? Well, that actually has a name – ambiguous loss. And it can creep in when your identity shifts or your routine changes in ways you didn’t choose. Life is going on, but somehow still feel like something’s missing; as if you’ve left part of yourself behind somewhere and can’t quite remember when.

It’s not dramatic. It’s just… off. And over time, that quiet disconnection can really mess with your sense of direction.

For me, this began with the death of my mother. She had always been my anchor, letting me head off around the world on adventures because “you can always come hyem [Geordie for home]”. When she died, I was set adrift, but I didn’t realise it until I came to Scotland to stand in the general election last year. Having my father-in-law on hand to help canvas and then having my sister so close – as well as all my friends from the Borders to the Islands cheering me on – showed me how much I needed to be back. To be close to them again in a place I feel at peace.

For all this has been a big move, with all the stress that comes with that, and left me a bit discombobulated, it’s also the start of getting my life back on track. And I am very, very happy to be here.

So if you’ve had a big transition – work, health, relationships – it’s okay to grieve that. Recognising it is the first step to changing it.

Reconnect with what energises you

Writing, campaigning, speaking up about the state of women’s healthcare and occasionally yelling at the telly (mebbes more than occasionally when Politics Life is on) – they make me buzz.

There’s science behind this, too, honest, and we’re back to flow.

You’re in the “flow” when you’re completely focused and absorbed in what you're doing – that moment when everything else fades away because you are so into it. Flow is when someone tells you the time and you realise you’ve been working for hours without realising it because you’ve been so engrossed.

If you want to know more, check out the work of the Father of Flow Dr Mihály Csíkszentmihályi (yes, I copied and pasted his name).

What’s your version of that? It doesn’t have to be profound. It just has to matter to you.

Make a small shift, not a grand gesture

You don’t need to quit your job, dye your hair pink, or join a commune (though if you do, I want the story). Big changes are tempting, but it’s the small, boring ones that actually shift things.

If you’ve read Atomic Habits, you’ll know the idea: tiny tweaks build momentum. Every small choice – what you eat, what you watch, when you sleep – is a quiet vote for the life you want.

Small doesn’t mean pointless. It means doable. It’s a ten-minute walk instead of a scroll. Water instead of wine (yes, apparently that’s possible). Saying “no” to things that drain you. None of it looks dramatic, but that’s kind of the point.

You don’t need a big reinvention. You just need to start leaning a little towards the version of yourself that feels more like you. As I said, that’s what I’m trying to do right now – a small shift, not a huge relaunch.

Like putting on make-up – and actually taking it off at night. Choosing clothes I like, not just whatever’s clean. Going outside before I check my phone. Tiny things that add up.

If you’re feeling a bit lost too, I get it. I mean, the world’s been weird for a while. When I first went on HRT, I told the doctor I still didn’t feel quite right. “We’re in the middle of an epidemic,” he said. “I’d be more concerned if you did feel right.”

But you don’t have to stay stuck. Tiny steps. Small shifts. That’s how we start again.

If you’re ready to take a next step – in work, health, purpose, or just figuring out where the hell you are – let’s talk. Hit reply, message me, comment below.

I don’t have all the answers, but I’m walking this path too. Let’s figure it out together.