Lessons I learned in the Sahara….

Over the last month I have sat down to write this blog post on countless occasions, trying, and failing, to put into words what can only be described as the experience of a lifetime. You would think that having trekked 100km across the Sahara Desert, with 32 of the most incredibly brave and determined people, I would be bursting with words, that there would almost be too much to share, too many moments to document in just one post. And yet here I am, completely stumped yet again, realising that sometimes, once in a lifetime perhaps, words will never be enough to share something so special.

When I first signed up to trek the Sahara desert, raising money for Coppafeel! Breast Cancer charity as my own personal challenge for my 40th year, I was a very different person altogether. Hitting such a huge milestone had spurred me on to try something new, to put my fears aside, to push myself to the limit and celebrate the fact that although the years were passing me by, I was truly living every moment to the fullest. Fast forward two years to a global pandemic, four trek cancellations and a whole lot of heartache and by the time I packed my bags and boarded that plane to Morocco, I felt utterly broken in every aspect of life.

And so it came to be that what was on paper a journey of 100km, turned out to be a journey of self discovery, of self love, of self acceptance, friendship and determination. And more than that, having spent 42 years on the periphery of understanding what life was truly all about, ultimately, and inexplicably, it turned out to be a journey that would change my life forever.

From the very first moment I stepped foot on the sand, 2000 miles from home, completely disconnected from civilisation, from the internet, and from a means of contacting my family, something changed in me almost instantaneously. For the first time since childhood I had nobody else to be responsible for but myself and although we use this phrase so readily, never have I felt the weight leave my shoulders like I did in that moment. At the flick of a switch I discovered that faced with adversity I could be the kind of person who takes on a challenge and smashes it, with every bit of enthusiasm and grit and determination that’s needed. The kind of person who sees a twenty storey high sand dune and somehow finds the will power to reach the top, still with the biggest smile on my face. The kind of person who laughs in the face of sandstorms, who powers through with infected blisters, who uses every last bit of mental and physical strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other because quitting just isn’t an option.

And it all sounds so cliche but it wasn’t just life changing, it was life-affirming in ways I shall never manage to put into words. I learned to fall in love with a body I have disrespected for far too long, a body I have loathed since my teenage years for never being thin enough, pretty enough, strong enough. A body I resented for letting me down with every one of my miscarriages, for failing to keep Joseph safe and taking him from me, a body I was certain was the root cause of all of my unhappiness over the years.

I learned to appreciate how lucky I was to wake up every single morning to a new sun rise, to take in a breath, feel the air in my lungs, and know that my body was strong enough to carry me through the day. I learned to embrace all of my little quirks, and all of my imperfections, and lay them bare within a group of strangers without fear of judgement. I learned that although I have spent so much of my life trying to change for myself and for others, true happiness can only come from being unapologetically yourself.

Under the magical glow of those Saharan sunsets I learned to make peace with the past, to let go of the things I cannot change, to forgive the relationships I had lost and the dreams that did not go to plan. I learned to accept that life can be inexplicably cruel at times, for reasons we will never understand, and whilst it’s perfectly normal to not be okay with that, there are so many more positive aspects of life we can focus our attention on.

I learned to be a better Mummy, to all five of my children, to finally understand that even in the midst of those sand dunes with no means of communication back home, the bonds we share will always keep us connected. I learned that there is no shame in wanting to be more than just a Mummy, in taking some time away to rediscover who you are, to make sense of all of the thoughts in your head which are out numbered by the enormity of parenting. I learned that the brightest star in the sky will still shine regardless of where I am in the world and that I have never felt closer to Joseph than I did right there beneath those starry skies.

I learned about true friendship, real adult friendships, the kind where you feel safe and accepted and non-judged; I learned that you are never too old to make new friends and that once in a while, perhaps your paths are simply destined to cross, a group of ladies will come along who envelop you in such love and kindness that you’ll wonder how you got this far without them. I learned that true friendships are the ones where you can walk for hours on end in a complete blissful silence, where just a look, a touch of a hand, a wicked glint in your eye is enough to say everything that needs to be said right there in the moment.

I learned that it’s okay to allow yourself to feel all the emotions, to refuse to swallow down a sob or stifle uncontrollable laughter, or sometimes both at the same time. I learned it’s okay to say out loud when you’re finding things tough, or to shout it from the rooftops when you’re feeling incredible, that it’s okay to not always know the right thing to say but your voice and your opinion truly matter.

I learned that we don’t need to fill our lives with things, with objects, with extravagance, that you can be just as happy living a simple life living under a canvas shelter, eating a basic meal, banging an empty oil drum around a camp fire. I learned that we lose so much of ourselves to technology, to our phones and social media and that nothing feels as liberating as switching off and enjoying those crazy, silly, delirious conversations before bed.

And ultimately, 100km later, I learned how to find a way back to that girl I used to know all those years ago before life got tough, before my heart was broken, before my dreams were crushed. I guess you could say she’s been in there all along, and perhaps we all get a little lost along the way, but I made myself a promise right there and then, that when I returned home, when life went back to normal, when my stress levels inevitably rise and I feel that familiar sense of overwhelm, these will no longer be the lessons I learned, they will be the lessons I live by, always.