To find our zen.

With social media and the rise of the instant, with the world spinning so fast it sends us each into a spiral if we’re not careful, it’s easy to get lost. In a city like London, where pausing for breath could mean the difference between a promotion and being fired, between happiness and sorrow, between life and death, it’s important that we take stock once in a while – to find our zen.

And whatever form that takes, we should celebrate our need to return to nature, to switch-off from our endless barragement of notifications and emails and messages, not feel guilt that we’re missing out. 

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs, and save for one particularly difficult year whilst at university, this year has challenged me more than most for a number of reasons. From working towards something endlessly and feeling no self-worth to ending a relationship and moving on to new things, the decisions I’ve made have ultimately been the right ones, not only for me but for those around me. 

It’s not an easy decision to turn your back seemingly on the things you love and those you love, but in all honesty, sometimes getting air is the only thing that can save you. After dedicating myself as much as I was physically able to to causes such as Pride in London in early July, my world seemed for a while at least to implode. 

I was so proud of my mum and her wife attending their first Pride with me. Prouder still of my twin being by my side with his girlfriend to witness it all, and my then-boyfriend stood beaming taking it all in. After not stopping to take in everything Pride has achieved since I started my shift in the early morning, I saw them just off Regent Street and I cried so much, finally realising the gravity of this huge volunteer-led effort.

It was a picture that I will cherish forever, but there was something missing, and it speaks volumes as to why, instead of being on a train back to Somerset this Christmas, I’ve taken a flight to the other side of the world. 

When my parents divorced, my dad had a mantra; ‘It’s been a tough year,’ he’d say. The following year, it had changed to ‘life goes on,’ before succumbing to good sense and better interior design choices. Because life doesn’t just go on, we each have a responsibility to each other. 

My year was made so difficult because of my responsibility to my family – both biological and self-made. Despite telling me that I wasn’t in the middle, that’s exactly where I have been with no way out. Stuck in the centre of a conflict with each and every one of them fighting for me to believe them, to back their opinion as if it was gospel. And at the very moment I needed someone to turn to and hold me when things were tough, I was left standing miles away from my family, alone.

But I tell you this not to ask for sympathy, but to set the scene. My story isn’t unique – people have family issues and relationships breakdown – it’s a fact of life. So I won’t air any dirty laundry here because fundamentally each of them is right and each is wrong. If anyone is to blame though, it’s me for my absolute failure to resolve conflict. I’m not a negotiator, a bargainer, a diplomat. I am a listener, considerer, thinker. 

So whilst my family is more divided than it has ever been before, and I stand as an island rebuilding after the storm as far away from those who know me the most intimately, I want to apologise.

You were not to blame for me not being the best I should be and I’m sorry that I thought in trying to save you, I’d save myself. I should have never placed that responsibility on you. 

You were not to blame for the situation, and I wish you knew you could have called me to talk to me at any point about how you were feeling. I should have been there when you needed me. 

You were not to blame for arguing because you are still hurting from the events earlier in the year and I apologise if you think I am not trying to fight for you. I should have shouted louder. 

You were not to blame for trying your hardest to remedy the situation and salvage a relationship and I’m sorry I’m not diplomatic enough to help you resolve anything. I should have helped facilitate. 

You were not to blame for the events that followed the breakdown of a relationship and all the pain that still causes you and I’m sorry that you couldn’t talk to me. I should have understood and supported you. 

Wherever you are this Christmas, cherish those who you’re with, but cherish more those who are absent. Wherever you are, know that though all of this, I have never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you. After all, I am a sum only of your love.