Today is Sunday, and I didn’t sleep well again, maybe five hours. I’m usually an eight-hours-of-sleep person, and I don’t function brilliantly without it. Still, I made it to a spin class this morning. I stayed quiet, kept my head down, and just moved. The people in the room were positive and uplifting, and that energy carried me through. It was what I needed.

Somewhere between the exhaustion and the movement, clarity found me. I realised why Friday hurt so much. Painful or uncomfortable situations often teach us the most, right? The truth is, the reason I felt that way was entirely on me, not the other person, but my own thoughts, the film I’d been playing in my head. Owning that is a tough pill to swallow, but it’s taught me something important.

A few years ago, my instinct would have been to isolate, bury myself in work or family, and shut everything else out. But now I can see how unhelpful that was. That feeling, that reaction - it all came from my own thoughts. No one else is to blame. No one did anything wrong. It was entirely on me.

Do you ever romanticise connections? Friendships, relationships, any kind of closeness? When I was younger, I spent a lot of time living in my own head. It felt like the safest place to be. And in many ways, it worked. But even now, I catch myself doing it, and it rarely serves me. I create stories in my mind about how things might look, how people might act, how moments might unfold. And when reality doesn’t match the story, it stings.

But that’s not real life. That’s not being present. Living in imagined stories will never bring peace. Real connection comes from showing up fully in the moment - seeing people as they truly are, having honest conversations, understanding what matters to them, and building on that. Bonds grow in reality, not in perfect moments or fairy-tale scenarios.

It’s easy to romanticise the “perfect friend” or the “perfect relationship” because that’s what we see on TV or in films - someone who meets every emotional need, always shows up exactly as we imagine, never disappoints. But that’s just a story. True connection looks different. Real friendship means meeting people where they are, learning them gradually, and letting relationships unfold naturally, in a way that’s uniquely yours.

Growing up, I learned to keep everything to myself. We didn’t talk about feelings, you just got on with life. Over time, I began to believe that staying quiet and building walls would keep me safe. It became my way of avoiding hurt, holding myself together, convincing myself I was “okay.” But that was just a story I had created in my mind. It wasn’t reality. How could I truly show up for others while living like that? I couldn’t.

Deep, meaningful connections only happen through openness and vulnerability. You can’t avoid uncomfortable feelings, they’re just part of life. Real living is about breaking down walls, letting people in, and feeling everything, even the sadness and pain we’d rather avoid. Emotions come and go; they don’t last forever. The very fact that you’re feeling sadness or pain now is a reminder that these emotions can flow - and that joy and connection can return as well.

I have an action board I glance at from time to time, and one word on it is Truth. It might sound cheesy, but I really believe that honesty makes everything better. When we don’t communicate openly, it’s easy to get stuck in thoughts that feel real but aren’t grounded in reality. Yes, the truth can hurt, but it’s the only place where real connection grows.

If I’m honest with myself, I know I haven’t been living 100% in truth. I’m getting closer, but I’m not fully there yet. Self-protection, fear of rejection, preserving an image - whatever the reason - you can’t fully connect if you’re not being fully real. A connection built without truth isn’t grounded in reality.

Being fully seen is hard. It brings up fears: What if I’m not enough? What if I’m rejected? What if they leave? That’s vulnerability. And it’s terrifying. But deep down, I know the only way to build meaningful connections (and to live freely) is to be honest with yourself and the people around you. Completely, 100% honest.

And I’m not saying you should open up to everyone. Discernment matters. Not everyone is safe, and not everyone will treat your vulnerability with care. I’m intentional about who I open up to - it’s only people I deeply trust and feel genuinely safe with. That might be just a handful of people, and that’s more than enough.

If you listen closely, you usually know who those people are. You can feel who will protect your trust, who will hold your words with care, and who truly has your best interests at heart. I felt that immediately when I first met Jessie. When we met for coffee in London, I found myself opening up more than I usually do, not because I forced it, but because she felt safe and non-judgemental. That sense of safety matters.

And yes, there will be moments of pain and discomfort. But isn’t that where we learn the most? Think of it like running a marathon or climbing a challenging peak. There are moments of exhaustion, doubt, and discomfort - but the view from the top, the sense of accomplishment, is worth it. Relationships are the same. They’re a journey, not plain sailing. There will be uncomfortable conversations, moments of frustration, feelings you’d rather avoid - but embracing them is where growth happens. And growth builds deeper, more meaningful connections.

As cliché as it sounds, I’m growing, and this is a process I’m learning to navigate better every day. Now, I’m choosing differently. I’m choosing to feel the pain, the vulnerability, the uncomfortable emotions, and at the same time, to welcome the incredible friendships, conversations, and joy that come from being open. Could I have done this without Jessie? I’m not sure. I feel lucky to have her supporting me through it all.

Being completely honest with someone takes real courage. There will be conversations that feel uncomfortable, but those are the ones that need to happen. They create understanding, deepen trust, and strengthen connection. I’m not perfect at it, but I’m learning, little by little, and each small step is making a meaningful difference.

And this is the reminder I’m giving myself today, tomorrow, and the day after: choose truth, embrace vulnerability, and trust that real connection - messy, imperfect, and deeply human - is always worth it. 🩷