I’ve just realised something so simple and so true that it almost made me laugh out loud.

I’m a wanderer.

Not in the restless, can’t-commit, always-searching kind of way. But in the soul way. The kind of woman whose nervous system softens when she’s moving. The kind of woman whose heart fills up when she’s roaming, taking pictures, breathing deeply, noticing everything, smiling like a kid in a candy store for no reason other than… life.

And the funny thing is, I didn’t even know that was what I was doing until I said it out loud, because when I look back at the seasons where I felt the most alive, the theme is always the same: I was moving through the world with curiosity, I was making tiny adventures, I was choosing experiences, not because I needed to impress anyone, but because I needed to feel like I was actually living.

From July 2022 to June 2023, I was in my roaming era without even calling it that. I would plan trips every month. Not grand, glamorous trips, just enough to remind my body and my spirit that I was still here. I’d go to the gym, do my work, cook, clean, hold life together… but I would also do something for me. Something away from being a mum, a sister, a daughter, the strong one, the one who holds it all. And it made such a difference.

I didn’t need luxury. I didn’t need a man. I didn’t need more stuff; I needed movement, I needed new streets, I needed the feeling of being anonymous in a different place, where the only job I had was to be present. To take in beauty, to follow my own rhythm, to sit somewhere with a hot drink and look at the world like it was art.

I think that’s why the last six months have felt so… muted, not because my life is bad. Not because I’m ungrateful, not because I’m bored, but because my world radius has shrunk. Hip pain doesn’t just limit how far I can walk; it limits how far I can wander. It limits my access to the exact thing that makes me feel like myself, and when you’re a wanderer living in a smaller radius, something inside you feels like it’s waiting.

And winter hasn’t helped, the cold, the rain, the grey. The way the body tightens and braces, the way pain becomes louder than pleasure, the way your energy gets spent on coping instead of exploring.

I’ve still been creating beauty at home, I’ve still been curating my sanctuary, I’ve still been showing up, doing the work, staying consistent, but it hasn’t landed in my body the way it used to, and now I understand why.

Home is beautiful… but home is also full of visible responsibility. A trip, even a short one, removes the constant reminders of what needs doing. When I’m away, I can’t see the laundry, I can’t see the dishes, I can’t see the little life admin that’s always whispering. I can only see streets, windows, light, history, and possibility.

I can just be ‘Kiran’. That’s what the cabins in Norway gave me: ten days alone in the Highlands. No humans, no cars, no roles, no responsibilities. Just sunrise, warmth, silence, mountains, food, workouts, slow walks, stillness. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was sovereign. It was me existing without being needed.

CHECK OUT: The Cabin Diaries

And now I’m about to give myself that again, in a different way. France next week. My first true solo holiday since 2019. Even typing that feels significant. Like a part of me is waking up.

I booked Lille because I had an old Eurostar voucher and because I wanted somewhere new. I’ve got a studio apartment, and a grocery store nearby. And I already know I’ll be the happiest version of myself doing something so simple: wandering slowly, taking photos, picking up a baguette and something soft to eat, going back to my little space, and just… being, no performance, no proving, no productivity addiction. Just presence.

And maybe this is what midlife is teaching me in the most honest way: I don’t need to wait until my life is perfect to live, I don’t need to wait until my hip is fixed to remember who I am, I don’t need to force big adventures when my body can’t do them yet.

But I do need to honour the truth of who I am: I am a wanderer, and I have to design my life accordingly, not for anyone else, not for social media, not even for my business, but for my own aliveness.

Because when I wander, I come back to myself, and when I come back to myself… everything else becomes possible again.

If my words have helped you, a small contribution here will allow them to continue reaching the women who need them most. Also, don't forget to join me on Substack, where I share my Love Notes, a gentle pause in your week to reflect, realign, and reconnect in midlife. It’s not just another newsletter; it’s an intimate circle where I offer fresh intentions, soulful prompts, and simple but powerful shifts to inspire purposeful, creative living. Together, we’ll uncover the small but meaningful changes that help you design a life that feels beautifully your own.