The night before, I cried myself to sleep.

I was a shell. An outer casing of a Russian doll set standing stiffly and hollowed out. Heaviness blanketed me and I writhed under the weight. Nothing outwardly was different. Nobody had died. Everything looked exactly the same.

But in a deep place within, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

When I awoke, I would be 39. And what did I have to show for it?

Why do birthdays have the ability to sucker-punch me? I felt like I was doing pretty well beforehand. The relaxed rhythms of homeschooling ticked on and we had plenty of outings and excursions to keep us busy. We were making plans and seeing growth, but something wasn’t quite right.

A month before I had to press the ‘pause’ button on some freelance work I was doing through an education company. The work – putting together 55 minute lesson presentations for teachers for a range of learning areas from years 2 to 10 – was bringing me life and I bounced out of bed in the mornings, ready to begin. I had grand plans for a Shakespeare series for primary children, an exploration of Greek mythology and Aussie icons. I was powering ahead, filled with motivation… until everything ground to a halt. The reality of a new financial year and balancing the budget forced a pause on new content and I resigned myself to a break.

But I hadn’t realised how much the work was sustaining me.

In some ways, the break was positively timed. We were in the process of having our house interior painted which necessitated a move into my parents’ (temporarily empty) house for 10 days. It was a bigger endeavour than I had anticipated, moving all the furniture into the centre of each room and packing all then necessities (which apparently included at least ten soft toys each for Ivy and Harvey) and lugging them to a new space. Initially, I treated the gap as a holiday of sorts, catching up on sleep and enjoying the change of scene.

But then something began to sour. The inspiration and momentum I had been enjoying from the work had disappeared, and the lazy mornings began to morph into lethargy and depression. A weight had crept over me and I found it difficult to shake. The cocoon under my quilts was preferable to the monotony of the world outside and I didn’t want to leave.

The kids kept on with their learning without noticing much change, having developed their own study habits and routines which needed little prompting from me. I robotically went through the motions – housework, grocery shopping, homeschool outings – one day flowing into the next. Perhaps I could have continued for some time in this vein, except for the spike in the road: my birthday.

Anniversaries, birthdays, seasons – they all have associations with them that provoke a deeper reaction. For me, birthdays bring up an existential angst that has the power to throw me up against a wall.

Last year, I was nostalgic for the early child stage (conveniently dialling down the chaotic reality of what those years were actually like), convincing myself it might be time to add to the brood (like so many of the homeschooling families I saw on Instagram). My collection of four felt positively petite compared to the sixes, sevens, even tens (!) that I came across. Thankfully, the plan didn’t become a reality (despite the desperate prayers and pleadings of a certain daughter) and we continued on our way as a complete unit.

This year, with the ‘death’ of Adventure School (after the kids begged to be able to go to school again, as soon as possible), I wondered what my 39 years had even achieved. Sure, I have a law degree and a healthy family, but really, what was I doing with my life?

Transitions are especially difficult for me because they meddle with the momentum that is so necessary for me to keep moving. I’m not in the ‘past world’, but not in the future either, and the present just seems to be filled with chaos and disruption. Six months of treading water seemed six months too many, but I also didn’t know what other plan to follow.

My parents had been off on a winter break and called from the road to wish me a happy birthday. On the first call I did my best to stay upbeat and convince them that I was fine and just had low-key plans for the day. I thought I’d done a pretty good job, until Mum called back and asked how I was really going.

The floodgates opened and I couldn’t contain the sobs. I wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong, only that I was so unmotivated and so sad and felt at such a loss. The next day, they were walking through my front door with arms wide open, having cut their trip short by a couple of days in order to come home. It was an off the cuff remark from Dad, which set the entire next chapter in motion.

“Why don’t you see if you can get the kids in early? The census date is coming up and it would hugely benefit the school to get three more enrolments. You know the kids are keen, and you clearly aren’t happy. Why don’t you just check?”

The kids overheard the suggestion and were filled with enthusiasm. I tried to dampen it a little because it seemed quite unrealistic, particularly when I found out that the cut-off date was a mere two days away. But Dave being Dave went into power mode and sent off a few queries to see if it could be done. Less than 48 hours after Dad had put out his idea into the world, the kids were kitted out in their uniforms (which we somehow managed to get for free, thanks to the very generous donations of two family friends!) and off to their new classrooms.

Their first day was Friday and it was a huge success. Apart from a slight hiccup when I couldn’t find Harvey’s classroom at pick-up time and ended up collecting him 15 minutes late, every story they recounted was filled with excitement and joy. The birds had flown out of the nest and they were intoxicated with the newfound power of flight.

Hudson in particular looked so alive again – like a drooping plant brought back to health by a much-needed watering. He had started his day by being mobbed by an excited group of students, all saying they wanted to be his friend! Ivy gushed that all her new friends were Christian and they had spent lunchtime building ‘heaven’ in the sandpit together. Harvey dashed off after school to play soccer with his friend Ollie and none of the kids wanted to leave the grounds for a good hour. Eli played the indulgent host, introducing his siblings to his friends and checking in with them multiple times throughout the day to make sure they were adjusting well. When I sat watching them happily run around in their new uniforms, I felt a great sense of peace.

But a part of me was also filled with self-doubt over their ecstatic reactions. Had I made a mistake by homeschooling them for so long? Was this the very thing they had needed and I had been keeping it from them because of my own desire to make homeschooling work?

Yet I don’t regret the journey we took, roundabout though it was. We learned so much during the year spent homeschooling and it was a precious time of exploration. I got the opportunity to take Hudson to the Brain Hub and tackle developmental issues head on while also having a great holiday experience with him. We met so many lovely families and enjoyed our leisurely catch ups. I discovered my passion for teaching and education. I got a crash course in the beauty and difficulty of helping kids learn. Nothing is wasted and I know God will use every lesson we picked up during this time as a seed for growth later on.

So now, almost a week on from the birthday that bombed, I feel a sense of new direction and lightness that was hard to even imagine then. I’m not exactly sure what my road will hold, but I’m ready for something new and poised to throw myself into work with gusto. Plus there’s all the stuff around the house we need to do in order to put it on the market. I don’t think I will be bored, somehow.

On my actual birthday we did have a nice night out at YOMG (a little step down from the French Bistro experience of last year). The burgers were tasty and loaded fries divine, and we picked up some decadent ice-cream on the way home to enjoy for dessert.

I have no idea what epiphany next year’s birthday will hold, but I am grateful for the way God uses the ebb and flow of life to nudge and redirect us. For now, I’m thankful for all that I have and for the promise of new things. And, as an introvert, I’m very much relishing this quiet house and not being pulled in a myriad of directions at every moment in an attempt to keep all the balls in the air.