from lost to found

A couple of years ago I was invited to share my story within a book called ‘reclaiming your midlife mojo’ A vulnerable and yet incredibly healing process. As if putting a full stop on that life chapter. I share this with you, so you can see the road to self discovery, self belief and self trust is not an overnight transformation, but a series of daily choices that take you closer to home. Home within you. I barely recognise the women at the beginning of this story and I am so so grateful she found the strength to choose again.  

Lost to Found … the backstory

by me; Claire Kirsten Croft

I don’t remember where I lost myself, but I do know when I chose to be found

The day started like the others before, tears replaced by a smile, the mask that hid the truth. I was an actress in life, a chameleon, constantly moulding to blend in, to be accepted, and be liked. The yes girl, when my body screamed, NO. From the outside looking in I had it all: a loving husband, three inspirational children, a beautiful home, a thriving business, and yet inside I was lost, alone, and desperately sad. The signs were there, recurrent cold sores, constant headaches, and bone wearing fatigue. All ignored and masked. 

I had grown accustomed to living life like a “to-do” list, an efficient functioning robot that was slowly malfunctioning at the smallest of triggers. The trigger on that day was not hearing my son, Sam, say “bye” as he set off for school. I tore down the stairs and ran through the driving rain in a desperate attempt to wish him a lovely day. But he was gone. I prided myself on being a good mother, and I felt like I had failed. 

Ella said, “He’ll be back soon, Mum.” Her eyes revealed the truth: she saw through me. I swallowed my tears long enough to smile as she and Lucie headed off to school. As the door closed, a wave of emotions cascaded over me washing with it the armor I had held onto. I slid onto the cold floor; my knees hugged into my chest like a baby within a womb. Numb, broken, but not alone. Lying alongside me were fragmented pieces of me, the unloved, the unworthy, the suppressed, and the starved. I had run, but I could no longer hide. My light was out; in truth, I wanted out. A presence greater than me lifted me that day, along with a clear knowing that things were going to change. I was going to change.  

The days, weeks, and months that followed were uncomfortable, vulnerable, and raw. The realisation that I had been alive, but I had not been living. I got honest, took responsibility, and began asking hard questions. Who am I? Isn’t this the life I wanted?  A beautiful family, a Victorian home with whitewashed wooden floors, high ceilings, and open fireplaces. So why did I feel the home that once hugged, close in around me, the pressures of a large mortgage engulfed me, and my marriage felt like a ball and chain. A wildly disorientating time, and yet, I felt more empowered and alive than ever before. I was no longer the yes girl, the doormat, the submissive; I was in the driving seat, with one destination to feel happy and free. 

I needed space, time to heal, and time to rediscover me.  I took mini breaks alone, just me and my unloved parts. If I was to feel whole, I needed to stop hiding from myself. These breaks, which were an unsettling time for my family, were not always supported or understood, but they were accepted. Being a master of the mask meant no one knew how broken I had become.  My children called me Mummy Sunshine. They saw the light in me, before I did. I owed it to them to ignite, nourish, and own my light, so they could own theirs. I know my husband, Pete, was hurting.  His world had turned upside down, but I didn’t have the bandwidth to support him, the words to explain it, or the reassurance that all will be okay. Truth was, I didn’t know. 

As uncomfortable as it felt, I couldn’t go back. I trusted the voice inside and courageously forged a new path. I gave notice on my Pilates studio lease in favor of a small garden studio—a heart-breaking decision to my detriment as I hated letting people down. 

I bought a static caravan. An investment that, on paper, made no sense, but for me it was a sanctuary away from the busyness of life. I expect the notion of a midlife crisis was raised, especially on the arrival of a baby blue Vespa with a matching helmet! Giggling at the thought of it. I desired to feel wild and free (spoiler alert: turns out you don’t get that from a bike). It was a rather messy middle, a period of releasing, experimenting, and replenishing, but a crisis this was not. It was an awakening, to live life as me, for me. I became a happiness seeker, a magnet to books, courses, tools, and spirituality.

The more me I became, the more I realized how disconnected I had always been.

As a teen, I had starved myself; as an adult I had starved my life.

If my life was to flourish, I needed to nourish it, love it, and be in the experience of it. The way I lived became my medicine. The more I gave myself, the more I was able to give. The more present I was to life; the more magnificent life became. The more alive I felt in myself, the more alive I was for others. The more connected I was with myself, the deeper my connection to all.  The smile that was once a mask was real. People said I looked different. I was different, my robotic self was loved back to life.  

The ripple effect of my newfound joy for life was seen, felt, and mirrored. Happiness shone from within. Tears pool as I picture Pete smiling as he looks at me. He had given me space when he wanted to hold on tight. Freedom when he didn’t want to let go. His surrendering opened room for his own healing. We were both growing, thankfully together, not apart. I healed. He healed. We healed. Our children were spreading their wings afar, armed with the life lessons beyond their years. Who knew that being selfish was the most selfless act I could do.

When I was lost and unhappy, I filled the void with meaningless stuff. Now, I dreamed of a simpler life. Less space, less stuff, less pressure, and more time. Living through the pandemic reinforced that. I held a fantasy of living on a houseboat, at one with nature, with passing ducks as neighbors. Pete and our youngest daughter Lucie were not ‘on board’ with that reality, but they were open to change. My dreams became our dreams. Dreams became plans, and plans were actioned. With logic in the back seat, our hearts led the way. 

We sold our family home for a two-bedroom apartment by the sea. I anticipated some well-meaning opinions on this interesting choice for a family of five and two dogs! But, surprisingly and joyously, we only received love and support. Confirming that love will always be mirrored back, even if not understood.  I had shed emotional armour, and then I shed stuff. It was the best detox I have done. Warmed by the joy of giving, I delivered, gifted, and donated a lifetime worth of belongings.  Standing in our echoey kitchen on the last day felt strange.  Our worldly possessions fit into one van. A pendulum swung between exhaustion, relief, sadness, and excitement. Tears of gratitude fell for those soul-hugging walls and marked the end of a chapter. 

I type these final words sitting in our light-filled apartment, the sound of passing seagulls added to the gentle snore of our contented dogs. I feel overwhelmed with love for myself, my family, and our commitment and devotion to life. Not only am I living a life I love (we love), but I am empowering you to claim and live yours too. 

This story spans over a rollercoasting seven years. Every loop to loop, twist, and turn, lows, and highs, were worth it. I am free to be me, wild, untamed, quirky, and FUN me, my armour replaced with wings. How wide they expand or how high they fly is not yet known. Fun and adventure are on the horizon. The only question is will we hit the open road, or venture out to sea? 

This is the beginning of a new chapter and one I can’t wait to wake up too.

Soul enquiry:

• Your body is communicating all the time. What has yours been telling you? Where is your body crying for attention?

• I invite you to be curious about the masks you are wearing. How are they serving you? What identities are you ready to let go of?

• What would living a simpler life look like, feel like? What action can you take today to simplify your life?