This is an odd time of year. No man's land. The build-up and excitement of Christmas is over and suddenly the days between now and the New Year, Twixmas, are really just stepping stones to get us from one point in space and time to another.  Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash I always feel very low at this time of year, especially in January. Which feels like a never-ending month. For me, New Year celebrations have always been overrated. We are told how we are meant to think, feel and act, and that in itself makes this time hard when we can't possibly deliver on those high ideals and conjure up thoughts, feelings and actions to order.  Don't get me started on New Year's resolutions.  Why is this single point in time, a turning point in itself? Without some external or internal change bearing down on us, resolutions of any kind can't possibly stick. The clock ticking over and the year changing is hardly the impetus needed for habit change or habit formation. It re...

Recently, I had a conversation about identity. About my identity to be precise.   I was having a well needed cuppa with a friend and we were discussing high schools. In passing, she mentioned that the school has an LGBTQ+ club. I was very pleasantly surprised. It had never occurred to me that these clubs now exist in high schools. They certainly didn't when I attended in the 90s.  Photo by Kyle Glenn on Unsplash It got me talking about my own sense of identity. My own exploration of it.  For background, my parents are of Indian descent and moved to the UK in 1970 and 1980, I believe. We grew up in a very white Christian home counties town. There were very few, if any kids that looked like me and while my first language was my mother tongue, I stopped speaking it when I attended nursery and preschool. So at home, I'd experience my parents culture but outside of the house, where I increasingly spent more time, I was exposed to everything British. I grew up with British TV,...