The one with Greece, the eggs and a book that is almost ready

I have been quiet.
Not because there was nothing to say. If anything, there has been too much. The kind of too much that makes you sit down to write and then just stare at the cursor for a while before going to make another cup of coffee, put the washing on, get that mark off the kitchen window that has been bothering you for months and is suddenly urgent.

So. Coffee made. The boys laying on my feet. Let's go.

I want to tell you about a morning in Greece.

I was sitting in my recently acquired favourite spot on the hotel's terrace watching the boats, just off shore bob on the water. One had a dog barking excitedly and I could just make out its tail wagging over the side. Old battered delivery vans were pulling up at the curb, the same way they had done each of the mornings of our stay, drivers climbing out with a single box of eggs, a wheel of cheese, or a few cartons of milk, all greeted with the kind of warm hugs and vibrantly mesmeric conversation that make you remember how good humans can be when they're not in a hurry.

The breeze was gentle. The sun was already warm. And when my breakfast arrived it was, as it had been every morning that week, exactly what I'd ordered.

A fluffy toasted muffin. Smoked salmon. Hollandaise sauce. And on top, soft and perfectly runny, a poached egg.

Just the way I like it.

I'm telling you this because for most of my life I wouldn't have known how I liked my eggs. Not really. I was too busy making sure everyone else had what they needed to notice what I actually wanted. Sound familiar?

That morning in Greece was the first morning of the last chapter of a book I've been writing for the past two years. A book about coming home to yourself when you've been everyone else's clean-up crew for so long you've forgotten that your kitchen isn't just a work station, it is there for you to make your own delicious treat in too.

It's called The Way Home. And it's almost ready.

I've also been building something else while I was quiet. A course called Inner Needs. Seven weeks. One hundred and eighty pages (don't let that scare you). Nervous system tools, journalling prompts and the kind of questions nobody thinks to ask you. Like how do you like your eggs. It launched last week and the first two people doing it are already making me cry in the best possible way with their reflections. You don't have to share yours. They are sharing with me because I invited them to and they wanted to show me how far they have come, much like my beautiful client who shows me her ever progressing flying lizard every time I see her.

And because I've been building all of this I want to give you something.

The Nervous System Reset I made to help you start speaking your body's language. To help you understand what the tightness in your chest is actually trying to tell you. It's yours, for free, just click here.

I'll be writing to you more regularly from now on. Not because I've scheduled it into a content calendar. But because I now have a way to let you join me on this trail properly.

For the woman who is quietly, inexplicably lost while being by every external measure absolutely fine.

Maybe that's you today. Maybe it isn't. Either way I'm glad you're here.

Until next time, keep walking.

Becky x

P.S. Harley & Flynn say hello. They are both currently barking at the skateboard which must mean it's time for another skateboarding lesson (for them, not for me) which means this letter is finished whether I like it or not.