Beyond Gratitude
Grief, Chips & Spiritual Trips.
Thoughts drift as the curtains close after the final musical note of Coronation Street’s theme tune. The mind, restless as ever, wonders about the strangeness of existence. The body, however, is numb. Sarah’s father had just died—suddenly, traumatically, and in a way no one could have prepared her for. Beyond gratitude? She wasn’t even at gratitude. She was floored.
She toyed with a few titles for the book that followed—The Road to Hell and Back, A Journey into Madness—you know, light bedtime reading. But after the umpteenth proofread, something shifted. A new title revealed itself: Gratefulness.
The truths that poured out of her were not taught in schools. They arrived raw, uninvited, stitched together from lived experience, unfiltered wisdom, and the kind of boldness only grief can catapult you into. As one reader kindly put it, the book was “hard, NOT to put down” (yes, that double negative works—it’s basically saying you’ll put the kettle on, but you won’t put the book down).
Sarah insists she didn’t write this book. It wrote her. From classroom to ashram, from Liverpool to the universe itself, she was simply following the burning questions inside her heart. Grief was the rocket fuel. A ten-tonne lorry load of it.
Readers have since called the book “raw, honest, hilarious, and inspiring.” Which is lovely, because Sarah remembers sitting in a café on a Thai island, scribbling in her battered A4 notebook, convinced she was going slightly mad. A friendly stranger noticed her writing—mistake-free, he said—and suggested she publish it. Cue her heart exploding like a Catherine wheel. She followed that thread, and Beyond Gratitude was born.
This isn’t just Sarah’s journey—it’s an invitation. The book takes you by the hand and gently (sometimes not-so-gently) nudges you into asking your own big questions. It’s for those who are sick of being sick and tired. For those who’ve hit midlife and suddenly realised they can’t remember the last time they felt truly alive. For those drowning in the same old routines: Friday-night takeaway, Saturday chippy tea, Sunday ironing, Monday grind, repeat ad infinitum.
Transformation, as Sarah discovered, doesn’t always mean packing up, moving abroad, or doing yoga on a beach at sunrise (though she tried that too). Sometimes it’s simply daring to look closely—really look—at your life, even when it feels like it’s spiralling beyond your control.
Sarah’s path was a solo one. Travelling alone became like riding a bicycle: terrifying at first, then strangely exhilarating, then utterly freeing. Each new adventure gave her courage and insights that helped her process her grief. Unsurprisingly, loved ones didn’t always understand. How could they?
Her journey began with searching—desperate to find traces of her father’s energy in every corner of the globe. She carried conversations unsaid, love unspoken, and questions unanswered. Grief clung to her like a ghost, demanding to be seen. And in searching for her father, she began to discover herself.
As she writes, you’re drawn into that unfolding—petal by petal—like a lotus flower opening. It’s not always pretty, but it’s deeply human.
If you’re seeking a fresh perspective, a shift in your inner landscape, or simply want to walk alongside a “crazy lady’s” heroine’s journey, this book might just nudge you toward your own gifts, your own compassion, your own peace.
Because really, isn’t that what we all long for? Peace.
Beyond Gratitude is available now through Amazon, Waterstones, WHSmith, Foyles, Blackwell’s, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and many other bookstores worldwide.
Build connections, not possessions. Want less, be more. In a world obsessed with fake, remember—real is rare.
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