Things I’ve learned in 2026. Aged 47.
Love of Learning is one of my signature strengths.
I know this because I’m qualified in Positive Psychology and as part of that training very early on I took the VIA Character Strengths survey. I’ve since taken it several times more and consistently, Love of Learning comes up high for me. But I also know it now simply by personal evidence - because I can disappear down a research rabbit hole for hours, become joyfully overexcited about an idea, or find myself announcing a newly discovered fact (newly discovered to me - I’m quite often late to a party, in this context) to anyone within listening distance.
Learning brings me joy. I’m deeply aware of this now.
Not always the grand, life-changing kind. Sometimes it’s simply a little glimmer of a moment of recognition, a new connection, or the quiet pleasure of understanding something a bit more clearly today that I didn’t understand yesterday.
And so, at the age of 47, in a year that has contained grief, change, chickens, a LOT of willow and the slightly terrifying prospect of beginning a Master’s degree, (not to mention my Clinical Supervision training) these are some of the things I have learned about myself…
My hair is naturally curly.
If I stop trying to make it behave and largely leave it alone (it’s not been dyed for three years now and only cut once don’t judge me), it curls. Apparently the witchy, slightly unruly, bohemian version of me has been there all along, waiting patiently beneath the peroxide and hairdryer.
I mask even inside my own home sometimes.
I’m beginning to understand that it has something to do with being perceived in any shape or form. Even loving attention can sometimes feel like attention, and sometimes my nervous system would prefer to exist quietly and without witnesses. I’m less ashamed about this personal knowledge now. More accepting.
I really, really love my solitude.
This doesn’t mean I don’t love people. It just means solitude is where I come back to myself. It is where all the noise settles and I can hear my own thoughts again.
I have also learned that I really, truly do not want to go out three nights in a row.
This is not a personal failing. It is useful information. Useful to me.
When one of The Hedgerow Coven lays an egg, it is an actual celebration.
Not a metaphorical one. I will go outside, admire it, photograph it, discuss its colour and speculate enthusiastically about which member of the Coven produced it. To date, we’ve had some very reliably regular olive green ones from one of our Easter Eggers which are just beautiful. Malificent, one of the White Sussex, has begun laying these stunning white almost oval shaped eggs too. Makes up for her constant rage at life. Or maybe just me. Until I hand feed her corn in the manner she’s accustomed to.
Joy, it turns out, can be egg-shaped.
I’ve learned that at 47, I can still feel like a lost child.
It has been more than a year since my Dad died, and the words “my Dad died last year” still stick in my throat. This grief sometimes makes me feel as though I’m standing alone in a playground again, wondering where everyone has gone and why nobody wants to play with me. I can’t entirely explain why. It just does.
Perhaps part of grief is discovering that you can be 47 years old and still desperately want your Dad.
I wish I could tell him that I’m going to university.
I wish we could go and see The Dog Stars, eat pizza and ice cream afterwards, and have one of our conversations about films, space, time and the strange possibility that none of this is quite real life.
A life can get bigger at exactly the same time as someone is missing from it.
I am learning that beginning a master’s is both exciting and terrifying.
I want to do it very much. I am also frightened of doing it.
Both things are true.
I wasn’t a teenager who couldn’t learn. I was a teenager who couldn’t learn in the typical environment I found myself in. My path back to education has been distinctly wonky, over decards - work at 17, vocational qualifications, counsellor training, Positive Psychology and, now, embarking on an MA in Autism.
At 47.
Gulp.
I’ve learned that loving something doesn’t mean it won’t exhaust me.
I love learning. I also find learning tiring. I need routines, recovery time, preparation and quiet. I need to familiarise myself with unfamiliar places and allow more space around transitions. These things do not make me less capable of learning. They are part of how I make learning accessible to myself.
Perhaps that is one of the most important things I have learned since discovering I am autistic and ADHD, that support is not something I must earn by first reaching the point of collapse.
I’m learning to build a life that works with me.
Willow has taught me some things too.
Natural materials don’t behave perfectly. They bend, kink, twist and occasionally refuse to do what I had planned. Working with them asks for attention rather than control. Sometimes the wonky bit becomes the most interesting part.
There may be something in that.
None of these discoveries cancel out grief. I don’t believe my Dad died so that I could grow, become wiser or begin a new chapter. I would much rather have him here. And Practical Magic 2 is out and I’m fairly certain Stefan is only going with me because he loves me so much.
Learning is not the silver lining to losing Dad. No.
But even within a grief-shaped life, curiosity (another of my signature strengths it turns out) still appears. A chicken lays an egg. Willow bends into an unexpected shape. My hair curls. A new idea connects with something I thought I already understood.
Small glimmers of learning continue to find me.
And sometimes, quite often in fact, they bring me a whole dollop of joy…
(If you’re intrigued about understanding more about Positive Psychology and Character Strengths, you can take a wander over to the VIA website (https://www.viacharacter.org) The Character Strengths Survey is free.
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