I split up from my boyfriend on Christmas Eve

Two years ago, I was heartbroken and bereft, but this Christmas...

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

Two years ago, I split up from my boyfriend on Christmas Eve.

I’d left my life down south and traveled with him around the UK in a camper van until we decided to settle down and buy a house together in Northumberland.

But it didn’t work out.

Christmas Eve is definitely not the best time to split up with your boyfriend.

To make it worse, my teenage son Charlie contracted COVID at university, so he couldn’t travel or get home either.

It was the first time I’d ever spent Christmas apart from him.

I can safely say that it wasn’t a happy Christmas for any of us.

Face it

But although Christmas Eve 2021 was the day that my relationship with my boyfriend ended, it was also the day that a new life began.

As much as I was miserable that my relationship was over, I was also finally facing the truth about it versus the fantasy.

I was also finally facing my sorrow over my empty nest.

As a single parent to a single child, I missed my son massively when he went to university.

But he was making a new life for himself.

I had to let him go.

I had to let my relationship go.

I did a lot of letting go in 2022.

Peanut butter sandwiches and letting go

When you let go, it creates a space.

In that space, you grieve, cry, and gnash your teeth a lot.

Then you are left feeling empty.

When you can’t cry any more.

Then you feel flat and fat (because you spend weeks eating nothing but chocolate and peanut butter sandwiches—just me?) and you don’t have the energy to be positive or to find a way out.

But then one dark, stormy night (yes, really!) when you just can’t stand your own misery one more minute, you take action.

I headed to my local bookshop, The Accidental Bookshop in Alnwick, for a book launch.

I got to chat with a lovely lady as we waited for the author to arrive.

But then it turns out that the lovely lady was the author, Tricia Cresswell, who had written The Midwife, an historical novel set in my new home town of Alnwick.

This was the blurb.

1838. After a violent storm, a woman is found alone, naked, and near death on the Northumberland moors. She has no memory of who she is or how she got there. But she can remember how to help a woman in labour and how to expertly dress a wound, and she can speak fluent French. With the odds against her as a penniless single woman, she starts to build her life from scratch, using her skills to help other women around her. She finds a happy place in the world.

It was a sign!

Or that’s how I saw it.

The book is about starting again.

I was feeling bashed by the storms of life, feeling metaphorically naked and alone.

And here we had the heroine of Trisha’s novel on the streets of Alnwick, finding her new happy…

My theory is that the universe will always give you a sign if you’re heading in the right direction.

I got my sign.

Let’s start a book festival

Tricia was as kind as she was friendly, and she invited me to a post-launch meal at the pub next door with all her friends and family.

Here I got seated next to the local mayor, Lynda, and told her she should start a book festival.

‘No, you should,’ she challenged me.

That night, we recruited a whole team of interested people, and in February 2023, we delivered our very first Alnwick Story Fest, with 1200 tickets sold, 56 events in 22 venues, and 27 articles in the local, regional, and national press, with 98 percent of authors and volunteers saying yes to another Alnwick Story Fest.

It’s amazing what trying to escape misery and following the signs can achieve.

Alnwick Story Fest launches for a second year running

So I’m pleased to announce that this Christmas Eve, for the second year running, we are launching our second Alnwick Story Fest, and tickets are on sale now.

We have lots of our amazing substackers starring at the festival from

Emma Gannon

and

Claire Venus

to

Dr Sharon Blackie

and

Cait Flanders

Plus a whole host of more amazing huge best-selling authors, from David Almond to Ann Cleeves and Val Mcdermid. You can book your tickets here.

There will be lots of cake, singing, songwriting, filmmaking, substacking, story-telling, vampires, fairy queens, and bear hunts too.

I can’t wait.

I hope you’ll join us.

Hang on

Two years after that fateful Christmas Eve, I now live in a little apartment in the rooftops of Alnwick.

I am making new friends.

I am working on projects I love with people who are interesting and inspire me.

I am building up my freelance journalism career again.

I am finishing my book.

I have even been on a few dates.

Two years ago, I could not possibly imagine the future I am living now.

If your Christmas Eve is not going well or you’re feeling grim, hang on.

Yes, you’re allowed to cry, wail, and gnash your teeth. (Take to your bed, put on your electric blanket and hibernate for a bit until you feel strong enough to face the day.)

The storms can blow you off your feet.

The darkness can feel all-encompassing.

Especially as Christmas jangles your nerves with all its forced jollity.

But head towards the light.

Take a baby step.

Head towards the stuff that makes your heart leap—any slight lift of your spirits, any tiny glimmer of inspiration, any quiet nudge—then turn yourself around and go there.

And then, take another step.

And two years from now, you may find yourself heading in a new direction.

Follow the signs that take you in a direction that will make your heart leap again.

And the best news is that 2024 is Leap Year.

Happy Christmas!

This Heart Leap Substack is about building a simple, happy, creative life that makes your heart leap. I write about how to begin again when you feel a bit crap, and I also run writing hours twice a week with writing masterclasses from inspirational writers and experts. Do subscribe for regular updates.