Cycles, Curiosity, and Coming Home to Myself
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about growth—about the cycles we move through, sometimes consciously, sometimes not. I’ve been listening to audiobooks on trauma and communication, and what keeps coming up is this: we are constantly evolving. But there’s a shift that happens, I think, when you stop trying to grow in order to fit in and start growing simply to become more yourself.
For me, that shift has looked like cycles of boom and bust—waves of intense effort followed by burnout. I’ve spent years trying to keep all my plates spinning, rather than slowing them down or, perhaps more importantly, putting a few away before they come crashing to the ground.
Today I had a lovely chat with a friend about finding that elusive sweet spot—where you’re still learning, still expanding, but also feeling grounded and productive. It reminded me how different it feels to learn for the joy of it, rather than for deadlines or outcomes. There’s something radically freeing about learning without pressure.
Lately, I’ve been dabbling in Swahili and working towards a personal training qualification. Not because I need to—just because I want to. For no other reason than to better myself. And that feels… good. Unpressured. Expansive.
I haven’t really spoken publicly about it yet, but I’m currently waiting on an ADHD diagnosis. The process has quietly shaped the last couple of years—how I work, how I rest, how I explore who I am. It’s helped me better understand the way my brain works: the intensity, the hyperfocus, the overwhelm, the joy. I know it might sound self-indulgent to say all this, but I’ve had a bit of a revelation lately: I love learning.
Whether I’m working with clients, experimenting with a new painting technique, or figuring out how to pronounce a Swahili verb tense—learning is what lights me up. All these different areas cross-pollinate. They help me hyperfocus more effectively. When I’m in a painting mood, I’m completely absorbed. When the creativity hits for work, the ideas flow better because I’m not forcing them through a fog.
To some, it might look like I’m doing too much. And sure, there’s always a risk of tipping over. But honestly? Right now, I feel like I’m rediscovering the person I was when I loved learning simply for the joy of it. That was a happy place for me. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to a life full of variety—it’s a safe way to chase the dopamine highs, without the chaos. And every time I return to an old hobby or interest, I learn something new. Each layer builds on the last.
Reading has been the same. I used to feel guilty about it, as though it took up too much time. But I’ve come to realise that those little escapes into other worlds actually give me more capacity. They clear the mental clutter. Whether it’s an audiobook or the next page-turning thriller, stories reset me in the same way running once did. It’s become a kind of meditation—one that meets me where I’m at.
