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.