Journal

Why We Buy the Craft Kits But Never Open Them

Next week, I turn 56.

And here’s the surprising part: I’ve never been more excited about a birthday.

Because my 55th year? It has changed me.

Not in the big, dramatic, life-overhaul kind of way. But in quiet, insistent whispers — the kind that don’t go away.

A few weeks ago, I was out with a group of friends — all fellow Taureans and early summer babies — and, as the cake dwindled and the last drops of wine warmed in our glasses, someone asked a question.

“What’s your birthday wish this year?”

Not the bucket-list kind.

The soft, secret kind.

The ones we barely admit to ourselves.

“I wish I could play music again.”

“I wish I had time to paint.”

“I wish I didn’t feel guilty for wanting more.”

One by one, every woman around the table lit up when she spoke about what she used to do. Long ago.  Sometimes decades ago.

And then we all fell quiet.

Because none of us could quite explain . . . . why exactly we weren’t doing those things now.

That conversation stayed with me. Not just because it was tender — but because it felt familiar. Far too familiar.

And it made something crystal clear.

My birthday wish for 56 isn’t just about me anymore.

It’s a mission. I am on a quiet, determined mission.

I want to help more women close the gap between what they long for and what they allow.

Between the half-finished scarf neglected in a basket by the sofa  . . . and the quiet thrill of actually wearing it out into the world.

Because the issue isn’t that we’ve lost our desire to create at all.

It’s that somewhere along the way, we learned to sacrifice expression in the name of usefulness.

We keep the kits neatly stacked on shelves.

We save the tutorials to Pinterest.

We help others finish their beautiful projects.

But our own? They wait. And wait. And wait.

I remember one woman telling me she bought one of my craft kits.

It had been two years ago, it was still in a cupboard unopened.

She wanted to make it — truly, she did, you could hear almost loss in her voice.

But she couldn’t find two uninterrupted hours just for herself.

Not because she didn’t care.

But because she’s generous. Devoted.

Loyal — to everyone but her own longing.

And that’s what struck me most.

The guilt we carry? It isn’t because we’re lazy or disorganised, that we procrastinate, never finish anything.

It’s because we’re doing everything else.

We’re so good at being everything for everyone that we forget to be something for ourselves.

So this is what turning 56 looks like for me:

Helping women reclaim that creative pulse inside them — the one that never truly went away.

Helping them move from the quiet nudge… to the bold brushstroke.

From “maybe one day”… to “today, actually.”

And I’m starting with a gift.

It’s a free masterclass I’m calling About Time.

It’s happening on 12th June at 11am, and yes — there will be a replay if you can’t make it live.

We’ll talk about how we leak time without even noticing.

How to gently pull it back.

And how to finally put you back on your own  to do list.

Because your creativity isn’t optional.

It’s sacred.

And it’s time.

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