Now that I’m older, I often find myself looking back at the decisions that led me to the person I am today. Some of them were mistakes. Some of them were the best choices I could have made for myself. But more than anything, I can’t shake the feeling that all those seemingly insignificant moments somehow conspired to bring me here.
The truth is, this isn’t the life I imagined for myself when I was younger.
I never thought I would end up back in my hometown. I never imagined I would be running my business by day while pursuing writing at night. And I certainly never expected to develop romantic feelings for one of my oldest and closest friends from high school.
The version of adulthood I envisioned looked very different. Like many girls raised on romantic comedies, I imagined myself as the witty yet sensible leading lady building a successful career in a bustling city, stumbling into love in the most unexpected places. I wanted the grand, exciting adult life filled with social events and quiet nights lulled by city noise. One where films promised us, or nothing at all.
So imagine my surprise when life unfolded in ways I could neither predict nor control.
And yet, here I am.
What I’m trying to say is that life has a funny way of working itself out. Sometimes the things that shape us happen entirely outside our control. Looking back now, I can’t help but wonder how many of those moments were simply coincidence and how many were something more.
When I first returned home, people were surprised by how quickly I settled back into life here. Many assumed I had simply given up on my dream of living abroad.
The reality was quite different and frankly, out of my control.
It certainly wasn’t for my lack of trying, though. But shortly after I graduated, my visa expired before I could secure a job. The world was in the grip of COVID-19, and the job market had practically come to a standstill. I had no choice but to pack my bags and leave the one place I had always imagined building a life there.
At the time, it felt like a failure. Like watching my carefully crafted future slip through my fingers.
Looking back now, I’ve come to see it all as a blessing in disguise.
I’ve always been fascinated by the ancient Egyptian belief that the future is not a fixed destination, but something fluid, flowing like the Nile itself. Nothing is set in stone. Life shifts and bends according to the choices we make, each decision nudging us toward a different version of our future.
When I first began applying for jobs after university, I prayed constantly. Not necessarily for a job in England, or even for the opportunity to stay abroad. More than anything, I prayed to be led toward the best path available to me, wherever that path may be.
‘Semiramis’ by Christian Kohler [1843] }} (Image Source: Liege.be)
I asked God for a life that would be meaningful.
After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t want to suffer for the sake of suffering. I didn’t want to endure hardships that served no purpose or learn lessons that would leave no lasting impact. I didn’t want to spend my life surrounded by shallow connections or chasing milestones that looked impressive from the outside but felt empty within.
What I wanted was a full life.
The kind of life I could look back on with gratitude. The kind of life whose stories I would one day share with my children and grandchildren. I wanted a marriage they could look up to, friendships that endured and work that meant something. I wanted a life rich with purpose, even if it wasn’t always easy.
What I didn’t realize then was that the answer to that prayer might require me to let go of the future I had imagined for myself. The kind where people in my hometown had expected me to have. Because things don’t always go as planned.
It is important to remember that sometimes divine intervention doesn’t arrive as an open door. Sometimes, it arrives as a closed one.
It wasn’t until I finally settled back in my hometown, built lifelong friendships, found a healthy community, and became genuinely happy in my own relationship that I accepted a difficult truth: the path I had fought so hard to stay on was never meant for me in the first place.
So if a door closes and there’s nothing you could have done to keep it open, try not to be too hard on yourself. You might not feel it now, but sometimes, what feels like rejection is really a redirection. A way for the universe to guide you toward a place that’s better suited for who you’re meant to become.
And that, I’ve come to realize, is the true blessing in disguise.
Sincerely, Cherie.
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