25/10/2026
☕ Sunday Musings - The Girl I Used to Be
This week I've been travelling around Ireland, revisiting places that were once a huge part of my life.
Twenty-five years ago, I spent a lot of time here. Ireland had an extraordinary hold over me. The history, the countryside, the horses, the people. I felt such a strong connection to this country, and every time I left, there was an almost overwhelming longing to return.
And now, at 51, I'm back.
Half a lifetime later.
Those words have been rattling around in my head this week. Half a lifetime. It's quite confronting when you put it like that!
I've been driving around the countryside, visiting old haunts, and yesterday I found myself wandering around Punchestown Racecourse, trying to piece together memories of horse shows from all those years ago.
Where were the arenas? What did the grounds look like back then? Why couldn't I remember things that had once been such a big part of my life?
Some memories came flooding back. Others were frustratingly elusive. And some places weren't quite how I remembered them at all.
It was a strange feeling, realising just how much time has passed. How much life has happened. And how even memories that once seemed so vivid can gradually fade.
But something else has surprised me about this trip.
That extraordinary longing I once felt for Ireland hasn't exactly disappeared. It's more like it's dissolved.
I still love this country. I still find its history fascinating and its landscape beautiful. But I no longer feel that desperate pull to stay, or the sadness I once felt about leaving.
And I've been wondering why.
Perhaps it's because the girl who first fell in love with Ireland was still searching for something. A sense of belonging, perhaps. A place, or people, that made her feel she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
And now, after 25 years of living, loving, making mistakes, learning lessons, and some fairly significant personal growth, I don't feel that same need to search.
I've been thinking about the difference between *longing* and *belonging*.
Perhaps belonging is no longer something I need to find somewhere else. It's something I've gradually learned to carry within myself.
And that brings me back to the 25-year-old girl who was here all those years ago.
I've found myself thinking about her quite a lot this week.
Her innocence. Her enthusiasm. Her intensity. Her hopes and dreams. And just how much she still had to learn about life, relationships, and herself.
She had absolutely no idea what the next quarter of a century would bring.
And I find myself feeling an enormous amount of tenderness towards her.
Not embarrassment about the things she didn't know. Not regret about the things she got wrong. Just love and compassion for a young woman who was doing her best to find her way in the world.
Perhaps that's one of the unexpected gifts of getting older. Being able to look back at our younger selves with a little more kindness and understanding.
And I think I've finally worked out what this trip to Ireland has really been about.
I thought I was coming back to visit the places I used to know.
But it turns out I've come back to visit the girl I used to be.
And oh, how much love I have for her. ❤️