Monthly Musing: On Redirection...

May, for me, has carried an underlying theme of redirection. Something that, in years gone by, I would almost certainly have experienced as rejection. Thankfully, through a lot of personal growth, reflection and healing, I now view things through a different lens, one that feels far less damaging and much healthier.

Sadly, as is the reality for many schools and educational settings at the moment, budgets are incredibly tight. As a result, a couple of my weekly schools have had to give up their service level agreements. Sad? Absolutely. Understandable? Also absolutely. Will I miss the children and young people who have been entrusted into my care each week? Without question.

And this is where acceptance becomes invaluable.

There is very little peace to be found in fighting against decisions that sit entirely outside of our control. What would I gain from that? Very little. What could I lose? Relationships, respect, perspective and peace of mind.

It is something I often find myself reflecting on with the children I work with too. So much distress can come not only from the situation itself, but from the meaning we attach to it. A boundary can feel like rejection. A change can feel like abandonment. An ending can feel like failure. Often, our minds rush to create stories long before we have paused long enough to sit with reality.

Years ago, I know exactly the story I would have told myself in this situation. That I had failed. That I was not good enough. That I had somehow got it wrong. The imposter syndrome narrative still occasionally whispers in the background, but nowadays I have better tools to respond to it and, perhaps more importantly, I no longer automatically believe everything it says.

Instead, I find myself sitting mostly in gratitude.

Grateful to the schools who trusted me right at the very beginning of my freelance journey. Grateful for the relationships built over time. Grateful to have worked alongside staff willing to reflect, adapt and think relationally. Grateful, most of all, for the opportunity to support some incredibly vulnerable, funny, complex and wonderful children.

Whilst there is genuine sadness in endings, there is also an underlying sense of curiosity and excitement quietly beginning to emerge… what next?

Because if I am really honest with myself, part of me knows that these schools had become safe. Familiar. Predictable. Places where I was deeply comfortable. And sometimes, without us even realising, comfort can keep us standing still for a little longer than we are meant to.

There are things quietly sitting in the background now, projects, ideas, possibilities. A relational assessment tool that I have been slowly developing. Writing ideas that have lingered patiently for years. Conversations and opportunities beginning to take shape.

For a long time, I think I viewed closed doors as proof that I was somehow heading in the wrong direction. Now, I wonder whether some doors close simply because we are being gently redirected elsewhere.

Not every ending is a rejection.

Sometimes it is simply space being made.

And perhaps that is where trust comes in. Trusting the process, even when we cannot yet see the full picture. Trusting that growth does not always feel comfortable. Trusting that sadness and excitement can exist together. Trusting that letting go of something good may sometimes be what allows something new to emerge.

Everything in its time. Everything in its place.

So… let’s see.