It's early. The morning air brushes the skin I have exposed, leaving goosebumps on my legs and arms. Lightly pinching my face and brushing aside what's left of last night's sleep. There's only a few that stir at this time of the morning and I take in the serenity.

“There is a simple realisation from which all personal improvement and growth emerges. This is the realisation that we, individually, are responsible for everything in our lives, no matter the external circumstances… often the difference between a problem being painful or being powerful is a sense that we chose it, and that we are responsible for it.” - Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***

It was this statement, something so simple, something I’ve always know but easily forget in the middle of all the madness, that hit me today. The past twelve months summarised in a single sentence. We are responsible for everything in our lives, no matter the external circumstances. Had I taken responsibility? Not at all. There were moments of course where I took control, I stepped into the challenges, the unknown. That I owned what I had to do and I got on with it. But if the twelve months was to be summarised, I had spent most of it in a state of powerlessness. And it was me who had taken my power away.

How time flies when you’re having fun! It’s already been a month since I last sat down and wrote. Continuing on from my last blog where I reflected on finding the work you can’t not do and alluding to my ‘why’, it seems fitting that I’m writing again a week on from the WASH Futures Conference and International Women’s Day – two events that represent a lot of how my why has begun to manifest itself in my life.

For some time now I’ve been doing some reflecting on my life, the type of work that lights me up and the footprint I want to leave. Given how quickly a day can turn into a week, a week a month, a month a year, I think it’s important to carve out time every so often to stop, look up, and check in with yourself. Is what I’m doing what I want to be doing? Are there things I wish I could change? What can I do to make that happen? In an attempt to get some of these whirring questions out of my head and seek out some reason and rhyme, I thought I’d write a few reflections on this.

My heart belongs to a million places and none. It flies freely across oceans and continents nestling warmly among recognisable faces and places. How did I get so bittersweet lucky? Most people have their home and loved ones within arms-reach, there to see, to touch, to speak with. Where they call home a familiar place they have always known, a place they were raised and will raise their children.