There’s something about the darkness of midwinter that puts me in a reflective mood.

If you’ve been reading my previous posts you’ll understand why. There’s been a lot to process. The sadness of saying goodbye to Mum and Dad just six months apart and the rawness and unpredictability of grief has at times been all-consuming. On reflection, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this year has had its dark moments.

Yet, despite this, something rather interesting happened recently…

I was chatting to my sister-in-law on the phone the other week and she said to me; ‘wow, it’s been a tough year for you.’ And while I couldn’t dispute that, I found myself replying; ‘yes but it’s also been one of the most enlightening.’ Those words seemed to just tumble out of my mouth and took me a little by surprise.

As I delved a little deeper, I realised that those words weren’t just throwaway to put on a brave face on things, they really did have significant meaning.

Maybe it’s because I’m a little older and wiser that nowadays I more consciously look for the light and hope among the darkness. I used to be a little scared of the dark when I was younger, but now I see and experience it differently.

The darkness is not to be feared and avoided at all costs as there’ll inevitably be times of struggle and pain for us all. But I now realise that it doesn’t have to overshadow everything; within the darkness, there’s always potential to find some light.

So as I reflected on my year through this different lens, the glimpses of light and times of thrive were illuminated to me and I remembered them with a glow of gratitude. While some have been fleeting, others more impactful and long-lasting, each one has been equally important in contributing to my overall sense of wellbeing and growth.

It’s why, despite feeling frazzled at the end of this year, I also feel enriched. Experiencing the darkness has been powerful and transformative. I’ve become more adept at embracing its discomfort and trusting more deeply my feelings; allowing them to guide me towards my thrive. As I said to my sister-in-law on that same phone call - ‘I feel like I’ve gone up a level year!’

I started Fifty Thrive to talk about thriving and prioritising joy in midlife, whatever that may be for each of us, and to also prove that everything doesn’t have to be perfectly aligned to feel and experience it! I think my year is a testament to that.

So in that spirit, I wanted to share with you some of my thrive moments. It’s a reminder that life can be both tragic and exhilarating - often at the same time - and that in this contradiction we feel most alive.

My first thrive may be a surprise to you. It was bearing witness to the passing of my parents. I felt so privileged to be there with them in their final days and hours in the caring environment of the hospice. I had time to hold their hands as they drifted peacefully towards their last moment and the opportunity to tell them I loved them and to thank them for

everything they had done for me. It was a profoundly humbling and piercingly poignant experience that will stay with me forever. In those moments I saw just how intertwined darkness and light are and that suffering always gives way, in the end, to peace.

Witnessing death makes you fully appreciate life; it reminds you of the miracle of being alive and all the potential that holds - something that can never be taken for granted.

It’s made me more determined than ever to fulfill my dreams and hopes before it’s too late. While this wholly new experience taught me so much, it has also been tough to navigate -knowing I’ll never see, hear, or hug my parents again is something I’m still coming to terms with. Grief takes its time and requires a great deal of self-compassion.

While that taught me about the preciousness of life, I was reminded of the importance of connection when I went on my first-ever retreat in the summer - a Marvellous Midlife Retreat run by Laura Shuckburgh. It was four days of pure thrive and just what I needed after a difficult few months. I turned up dishevelled and depleted having just moved house, but it wasn’t long before I found myself relaxing. Spending time in a beautiful setting at The French Retreat among rolling fields of sunflowers, meeting like-minded midlife women was so life-affirming. We ate the most delicious food, swam in the pool and in a local river, did yoga, talked, laughed and cried. We turned up as strangers and ended up as friends. Such was the experience, I’ve written an article about it which I plan to share in the new year.

Connecting around the dinner table at the Marvellous Midlife Retreat at The French Retreat

The retreat was also the start of my self-induced sabbatical - which felt like my most radical act of thrive. It came after realising that I could no longer juggle the pressures of work with that of grief and loss. Making the decision to step away from work wasn’t an easy one and sacrifices had to be made to make it happen, but finally taking control of my wellbeing when I needed to most was hugely empowering. I’ve already written a post about this recently and you can read it here if you’re interested.

I was finally listening to my intuition and acting upon it! This time out gave me so much - the space to think, to reassess, to appreciate, and to come back stronger and with more confidence.

Exploring new places has always been important to me, I love the thrill of going somewhere I’ve never been before and seeing what’s round each corner (call it curiosity or plain nosiness!) During my sabbatical, this sense of curiosity took me and my husband to northern Portugal - we intended to go for about 10 days but loved it so much we stayed for three weeks! Soaking up the culture in Porto one day, relaxing in the mountains another, watching the waves crashing onto a long sandy beach, eating delicious food, and meeting welcoming people made me feel truly alive and hugely grateful. It was also wonderful to spend quality time relaxing with my husband, who had been with me on my tough and challenging journey. It also showed me that you can thrive while also experiencing sadness, for at this time I was grieving Dad and deeply concerned by my Mum’s rapid decline.

Thrive for me is also about reconnecting with friends and spending quality time with family. Thanks to the pandemic and having to prioritise any time spent in the UK supporting my parents during their final years, I hadn’t seen many of my friends for ages. We’re talking years here! So it was a real joy to spend time with them picking up where we left off. Talking and laughing over a cocktail or coffee about the challenges and absurdities of life and remembering the younger carefree times reminded me how friendship and connection is pure gold.

Time spent with family has also been precious and uplifting - seeing my nieces growing up, celebrating birthdays, including my mother-in-law’s 90 th with tea at the Ritz, and popping round for a tea and a chat with my sister have been such enriching experiences.

The kindness and compassion of family, friends, and acquaintances during the hard times has been a big comforting hug when I needed it most. And in times of darkness, I’ve found a renewed energy and passion for writing. It’s given me the solace and energy to keep going. Being on here sharing my observations and experiences with you has been such a privilege - I hope it has helped you too in some way.

So as I’ve shared my own year of darkness and light with you, hopefully, I’ve inspired, or at least encouraged you to think about your own precious moments of thrive this year. What have they taught you and how will they guide you and your intentions for 2024?

Even if you look back on a difficult year, as I am sure some of you will, I promise that if you look hard enough you’ll find those glimmers of light and moments of thrive. And however small they may seem, there’s no doubt that they’ll have lifted your soul. So start imagining how you can create and capture more of your own thrive next year. Thank you for reading this and you can read more by subscribing and joining my Fifty Thrive community, which I hope to grow and flourish

next year. I plan to post more regularly with different types of content - some free and some paid for - so watch this space.

Until then, I wish you all a happy and healthy festive season and see you again next

Emma Foster

Thriving during dark times