I have heard that saying so many times in my life and even used it a couple of times, but I never truly grasped its enormity until this week. It’s often used for positive milestones – graduating, getting married, starting something new. For me, in hindsight, I had already experienced this feeling on 30 May 2015, the day my marriage ended.

This date crept up on me this year, and wonderfully so. I hadn’t dwelled on it or felt anxious about it the way I had in previous years. But this time, the date carried new significance – and in a way that felt far too coincidental to ignore. I can’t pinpoint exactly when this slow awakening began, but I know it was shaped by a series of events and conversations, mostly about my work aspirations and career.

I’m currently an HR Specialist, and I absolutely love my job. To be honest, I’ve loved every job I’ve had. Work has always been great because I genuinely believe it is what you make of it. But like any ambitious person, I’m always looking for new opportunities and new ways to connect with people and their work. A few months ago, I applied for a role I’d been discussing with my boss. She has made it very clear she doesn’t expect me to stay in her team forever. She sees the unique set of skills I bring – engaging with people, networking, finding new things to get involved in. It’s humbling to hear how others see you, and this was no exception.

Around the same time, I kept being asked the same questions: “What is your dream job?” and “What do you really want to do?” These questions stuck with me because I couldn’t answer them. But for the first time, I could articulate what I was good at and what fed my soul in a work context. I could finally say out loud what I excelled at……..and be comfortable with that. There’s always that delicate balance between confidence and arrogance, but I was learning to own my strengths. Still, what job brings all of that together? What role taps into everything I know I’m good at?

Then out of nowhere, my mind wandered into a place of wonder. I had an overwhelming sense that my life is destined for so much more than what I’m doing right now. There was a feeling of anticipation in the pit of my stomach — the same feeling you get when you’re looking forward to a holiday or a big event. Except I didn’t know what I was looking forward to. It hasn’t revealed itself yet. It was the strangest and most exciting feeling all at once.

I decided to use a mate as a sounding board and spilled everything – the restlessness, the thoughts swirling in my head, the sense that something was shifting. It was a total mind dump, but it was cathartic to finally articulate it. Then, literally four minutes after that conversation ended, I received a Facebook message from a school friend I hadn’t seen in years. She sent me a podcast recommendation: “The life of the soul,” an interview between Oprah Winfrey and Sue Monk Kidd. I couldn’t listen that night, so I saved it for my morning walk when I knew I’d have the space to take it in properly.

Not long into my walk, tears streamed down my face as I listened to Sue speak out loud everything that had been sitting inside me. She described moments in her life where she sat in the utter quietness of a deserted room while feeling the noise of a fireworks show inside her. She spoke about that inner knowing – that sense that there is more ahead, even when you don’t know what it is. It was an incredibly touching and enlightening half hour that genuinely felt like the first day of the rest of my life. I felt lost and inspired all at once. Lost because I still don’t know what all of this means. Inspired because I’m excited to discover what my place in the world really is.

By the time I finished my walk, I had a renewed sense of enthusiasm. The tears had been replaced with a Cheshire Cat smile. I got ready for work with a spring in my step. I jumped in the car, hit shuffle, and a song by Andra Day came on — “Rise Up.” The lyrics hit me like a reality shovel. I played it on repeat all the way to work.

As I turned into the street where my office is, I saw my ex-husband’s car parked outside. Not unusual, we work for the same organisation, but he doesn’t often work at my location. And in that moment, I realised it was 30 May. I had been so focused on opening myself up to future possibilities that I hadn’t even thought about the last major turning point in my life, which happened on this same day four years earlier. What a sublime feeling – to be so lifted by what lies ahead that I had zero time to dwell on the past. It was empowering, and it illuminated my sense of purpose.

I’d love to tell you exactly what all of this means, but the truth is I don’t know yet. I’m not there. I’m not even sure when I will know – and I’m perfectly okay with that. I would rather spend a lifetime discovering the right path than a single day stuck in the wrong place.

So here I am, at 40 years old, full of wonder and anticipation, knowing my future is bright. Very bright. So bright you’d better wear shades. I will not be dimming my light just because it’s hurting someone else’s eyes.