Only those who forgive can be free

I’ve been thinking a little – not a lot actually, happily less than I feared – about how you move on from love when it ends. A few of my close friends are coming out of tough breakups and so its been a topic of long conversation.

One such friend was talking to me last night about that moment when you move from loving someone, when the clouds begin to part, the dopamine they stimulated begins to drop, and you start to see some of the wood for the trees. Of course, depending on the nature of the relationship and the break-up, and your personality, this can be the start of the shift towards hatred. When with some distance you can see the things that in the moment you either didn’t see or chose to ignore. My friend said that she’s been learning not to let the hatred win, that resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die. She said when she feels like she is being dragged back in she remembers the quote from Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel:

The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference

After all, to love or hate someone is still intensely emotional.

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Fall in love with a girl

When you commit to blogging every day for 100 days, it’s pretty bloody obvious when you fail! One thing I learnt this week is that even with the best of intentions, sometimes life gets in the way. This week was a multi-day away trip for work, with long days, friendly colleagues and lots and lots of sunshine (finally, just yay). I kept up a bunch of commitments but some things like blogging I’m afraid fell away. Now back at home, I have to say I missed it and some other elements of my usual daily routine. Without realising we can become little creatures of habit.

That said, a friend said to me tonight that as long as the important things stay true, there is no need to beat ourselves up about the ‘should’. After all we can’t change the past, but actions in the present matter. And in this case, words are action enough.

This week I did manage to devour Mary Beard’s latest book ‘Women and Power: A Manifesto. And I mean devour, on one not so long train ride. I actually had the happy fortune to meet Mary recently, unexpectedly at Houghton Hall in Norfolk visiting the Damien Hirst exhibition which she was filming for her new series of BBC’s Front Row Late. Just great. As is the book.

I have and always will classify myself as a feminist. My mother – who I affectionately christened my ‘trophy mother’ – was a staunch feminist who campaigned vigorously for equal rights, and very deliberately actually equal rights, including better paternity rights. I keep meaning to get myself a matching ‘this is what a feminist looks like’ top.

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The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough

Its lucky that I made a public commitment last night to blog about my recent butterfly encounter because I have to say I couldn’t think of anything else to write about today! (Note to self, must think of a compelling blog topic tomorrow). For a rare change recently, its actually not because I am sleepy. Its actually because I have just had a really good, uneventful, happy, content day! Which is a wonderful thing, but doesn’t necessarily make for the best writing.

I’m partly attributing my good mood to the sunshine which is an instant mood-lifter. I am a proper little sunflower and the (finally!) change in weather just lifts my mood. The other part of it was starting yesterday with a morning of reiki and spending the rest of the day with a newly found dear friend. (Oh, and I’m sure the end of Mercury’s retrograde and the Aries full moon last night is also to thank).

So, time for the tale of the butterfly. As I mentioned last night, it was my reiki healer Vickie who said she saw a butterfly around me as we went through the session (sceptics, please bear with me, or at least don’t give up on my blog for good!). Afterwards, we looked up the meaning of the butterfly and for a number of reasons it made me smile at the time:

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Restorative reiki

Today I experienced my second session of reiki, this time in a group restorative yoga and reiki workshop, with the absolutely amazing Vickie Williams who I met just under two months ago at the Re:Mind studio in Belgravia (PS it’s London’s first meditation studio, a proper sanctuary of serenity nestled just a stone’s throw from the hustle and bustle of Victoria’s station).

I had one private session with Vickie about 6 weeks ago, having wanted to try reiki for an age. It was one of those fantastic serendipitous moments where the only spot I had free for weeks happened to be the next day and by some small stroke of good fortune she was free too.

As you may have guessed from my loud and proud horoscope obsession, I definitely lean into my spiritual side. But reiki really is something else. It’s quite hard to find the right words to do the experience justice but feeling the energy re-balancing around your body is just… wow. And even more incredible when you think that reiki ‘just’ involves laying on hands. I can’t remember ever feeling anything that comes remotely close to the balance, calmness and peace that I have felt after those sessions, so much that it seems to be radiating throughout and out of me.

Wondering what reiki is? This description from the International Centre (yes I am overriding the American spelling) for Reiki Training is spot on:

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Tonight my darling this is for you

For picking me up not once but twice this week, for your wise words, friendship, humour and all round brilliance. For reminding me what true good and kindness look like. For being the thing I was actually looking for, not the fake dopamine hit I thought I needed. And for the endless stream of compliments about my sexiness and brain and for also correcting my spelling mistakes.

You are a superstar and gem of a friend Rosie Luff AKA my pilot Luffstar. Here’s to many more years of basically being the same person and endless opportunities for me to impart birthday twin horoscope insight.

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Sleep I’ll keep but sugar it’s time to split

Today is Day 10 of the 100 Day Project and into my inbox just popped a little check-in from the team, noting that this is the point when often people feel like they’ve run out of steam, but reminding us that this is part of the process and we just need to keep showing up.

At the end of the working week, I am feeling very literally out of steam. It’s been just over five weeks since I decided to stop drinking alcohol and whilst I absolutely, 100 percent stand by and actually increasingly enjoy this decision, there have been two big resultant, well, results that I wasn’t expecting.

Like everyone who picks up women’s magazines, men’s magazines, or even a weekend supplement, I have read countless articles on the miracle benefits of cutting out alcohol. After the initial few-day slump, it seems like all the writers suddenly start jumping out of bed at the crack of dawn, rested and revived, and the weight then starts just sliding off as a new found enthusiasm for exercise simultaneously kicks in, and the countless empty calories are out.

Whilst I have had compliments on my glowing skin (!), five weeks in I am still surprised by two things.

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Finding your cow

Last night I hopped along the Hammersmith and City line to Housman’s Bookshop in King’s Cross to hear author and journalist Johann Hari talk about his latest book ‘Lost Connections‘. In it he explores a slightly different – and I would say complementary, although not all reviewers have agreed – explanation as to why depression has been increasing and mental health declining, focused on the changed way in which we live today, where we have ‘lost connections’ with things that matter to our well-being, as opposed to it all simply being isolated to causes in the brain.

I touched on one of these nine causes Hari describes, a lack of connection with others, in a blog last week on self-care. Personally, I found it one of the most profound and thought-provoking of my recent reads and I would recommend it as a must-read for anyone with an interest in this area. To say that we are facing real problems as individuals, communities and society because of some mis-match between the way we live, versus what we really need, is an understatement. And whilst there are some signs that we are awakening to this – from the recent rise of mindfulness to the even more recent appointment of a Minister for Loneliness – there’s a still a huge amount Hari writes about which either remains unsaid, or at least poorly understood, including by those who are suffering themselves.

Last night Hari re-counted a number of studies or stories from his book, but there was one which I’d forgotten since reading that really struck a chord. It’s about a South African psychiatrist Dr Derek Summerfield, the Cambodian countryside and a cow.

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Follow the Call of the Disco Ball

As I confessed in a blog post last week I am definitely a born and bred Night Owl. On the thankfully rare occasions I am forced to haul my body out of bed before sunrise my caffeine intake sky-rocks and I want to eat everything in sight.

Last year however that began to change when my awesome friend and fellow glitter-loving goddess Jessi introduced me to the (roughly) monthly miracle that is Morning Gloryville. Much to the bemusement of my colleagues, morning sober raving before work is now firmly planted right at the top of my hobby tree.

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A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

It’s not quite a thousand miles (at least I don’t think it is…?!!) but today, in a very spur-of-the-moment moment, I signed myself up for a four day, 15-17 hour, ‘challenging’, charity trek through the Sahara Desert at the start of November.

I have to thank the Young Women’s Trust’s social media team, whose tweet announcing their new partnership with Global Adventure Challenges, I happened to open straight up rushing between meetings.

So being a slightly impulsive mood, I jumped straight in! Plus volunteering / helping a charity was one of the top ‘self-care’ tips in yesterday’s Women’s Health spread so perhaps the other push to take the plunge was already there in my subconscious.

This is my first trek and my first real fundraising adventure, but it’s something I’ve been musing over trying for a while. 2018 is proving to be a bit of a ‘throw everything at the wall, try new things and see what sticks’ year but now I’ve committed this one is definitely not coming off, or coming off, depending on your point of view.

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Sweat the small stuff: the little things can count

Today was the first day since starting the 100 Day Project that I’ve a) felt a bit un-inspired about what to write and b) like perhaps skipping a night of writing.

However the latest issue of Women’s Health landed this eve with a section dedicated to self-care. It reminded me of the blog I wanted to, well, blog yesterday about connections, so never one to skip a sign, here goes.

Self-care is everywhere. It’s something I have always believed I was very good at practicing. I cook for myself, I ‘treat’ myself, I occasionally – well more than occasionally – splurge.

Recently though I’ve begun to redefine my definition of self-care in two, for me, really important ways.

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