I Was Rich, I Didn’t Know It. Until I Wasn’t

30 Sept

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it really means to be rich. Maybe it’s all the podcasts about financial independence and monetising skills. Or maybe it’s just me, approaching my 40th birthday, reflecting on what I’ve had and what I’ve lost.

Five years ago, I was rich. Not with money, but with love. I had my mum, my dad, my grandma. I had roots, a home to go back to for holidays, familiar faces who loved me, respected me, and made me feel safe.

Today, many of those faces are gone. And two of them are gone forever.

Losing a loving mother is devastating. It changes you in ways you can’t put into words. In your thirties, that relationship evolves — she becomes your friend as much as your mum, and you get to share each other’s lives in a deeper, more exciting way. I was rich, and I didn’t even realise it until she passed away in 2020 from Motor Neurone Disease (MND).

That’s why I’m sharing my story. Each year, I make a meaningful donation to the MND Association alongside my regular monthly contributions. In the past, I’ve raised funds by running challenges or signing up for events. This year, I’ve decided to give something more personal : my art.

My pledge:
I’m putting the pieces below up for sale, with every penny going directly to the MND Association. Prices range from £25 to £300. If a piece speaks to you, please reach out, we’ll arrange the donation and delivery together.

Your support not only honours my mum’s memory but also brings hope to those living with MND today.