Missing: mojo. If found, please return.

Short of searching between the couch cushions, I’ve looked everywhere.

This essay has been sitting in my drafts for longer than I’d like to admit, as I went back and forth on whether to even post it at all. Not because I think more than three people will read it, but because lately, I’m riddled with indecision. I’ve asked my husband, I’ve asked friends. I’ve decided I should. Then I’ve decided I shouldn’t. I’ve let it hold me back from writing any other posts. I’ve overthought til the cows came home—I’m overthinking this sentence right now—but as you read on, you’ll realise: that’s kinda the whole fucking point. So here we are.

This morning, I watched an inspiring conversation between

Anna Mackenzie

and

Jessica Hatzis

—two people I very much admire—and a piece of advice punched me in the face: write from a place of authenticity, not ego. I realised I’ve been creating (or well, thinking about creating) from a place of ego. I’ve been far too worried about what I usually write, what other people think, and what these people might want to read. But this morning’s advice gave me the nudge I needed to forget all of that and just write whatever’s on my mind. And at the moment, this is all that’s on my mind:

A few months ago, I lost my mojo. Short of searching between the couch cushions, I’ve looked everywhere. Am I worried? A little. Do I know why it’s happened? Absolutely. Will I die in this rut? I hope not. As a writer, I have a couple of options at this point: I could continue overthinking, catastrophising and spiralling. I could give up and take up permanent residence in said rut; get a cosy throw rug and a nice lamp or two. Or—and this is the bit I’ve been debating—I could write my way out, documenting my feelings, anxieties, remedies, wins, and losses as I claw my way back to myself. Aside from being a cathartic experience for me as I publicly journal the process, I’m crossing my fingers it will help even one person that finds themselves in the same situation, whether you’ve simply lost your spark, or you’ve got something much heavier on your hands.

So how did I get here? While I’m wondering the same thing myself, deep down, I know: 2024 has been the hardest year of my life. A year of extreme highs and lows that have really tested me, designed as a rollercoaster I can’t seem to get off.

I started the year at the top: I was having a baby! Great start. He was to be born in July, and I had six months to work like I’d never worked before, in order to take a well-deserved mid-year break. (If you’ve had a baby, you’ll know the feeling of not being able to see past their due date. I liken it to the period before you go on an overseas holiday—the other side doesn’t exist.) I went into fight mode, working with as many copywriting clients as possible, while creating, launching and running the first live intake of my business coaching program for copywriters; a project that could have taken a year, ticked off the list in four months (with the help of my amazing team). I set myself a huge goal and actually achieved it—I felt so proud and accomplished.

The middle of the year was a hair-raising loop: as we welcomed our beautiful baby boy Remy Blue, we had to face the reality I was losing one of my favourite people, my dad, and my husband was losing his beloved mum. Is this a case of cruel timing, just what happens when you get older, or because I told the universe a while back I wanted to become more resilient? I don’t know, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this process, it’s that you can’t worry your way to a better result. I’ve also learned that perspective is everything, that it helps to find (and believe) the positives, and that some days are good—and others are really not. In fact, I’ve learned a lot this year—things I want to share—and I know 2024 will likely be the year I do become more resilient. Still, if you’re reading this, Universe: this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Among of all this, there’s been a nagging toddler in the background, vying for my attention: my first baby, Bossy. Look, as someone who got a job the minute they turned 14 and 9 months (Hungry Jack’s drive-thru, if you must know) I love to work, and having Remy has only cemented the fact that Bossy. is a core part of my identity; a part that I really like. I’m sure anyone with kids can relate to feeling ‘untethered’ when they take parental leave—we are basically Sandra Bullock in Gravity. It’s one helluva catch 22 to desperately want to work to feel like yourself… but it just seems too insurmountable when grief or other heavy feelings are casting their big grey shadow. If this is you right now, I see you! I hear you. I’m eating Cheezels and watching a Jennifer Lopez rom-com on the couch in the middle of the day with you.

Now it’s the end of the year, and who knows what’s next—all’s I know is I have whiplash. Maybe I’m at the start of an ascent, and my sparkly self is close by. Maybe life is looking a lot brighter around the next bend. Or maybe I’m about to pull up, unbuckle my safety harness and step onto stable ground with my bebe, without so much as a glance back.

Regardless, if you’re reading this, take it as your reminder that you really can—and will—get through anything life throws at you, whether it’s grief, business stress, adorable screaming babies, financial woes, unexplained feelings of meh or a missing mojo. The ups and downs are coming. Allow your feelings to pass through. Capitalise on the days you feel good. Tell yourself daily it is no reflection on you, or your work. And remember, everything always works out in the end.