A personal reflection — April 2026

We all have relationships with different levels of stickiness. Different things bind them together and make them work. Some are friendships, some are family, some are built on love — and some are all three at once. But whatever they are, they don't sustain themselves. You have to invest in them. Feed, water and nurture them. And crucially, that investment has to come from both sides.

My personal view on life — the thing I come back to again and again — is that the most important thing you can give someone is your time. Not just proximity. Not just being in the same room. Actual, present, deliberate time. That is what I try to give the people who matter to me, even when I don't always get it right.

There's a song called Affirmation by Savage Garden that I think about a lot. It's essentially a personal manifesto — a list of things deeply believed and deeply felt. It captures something I struggle to say out loud: that I believe in giving, in showing up, in love that doesn't come with conditions attached. I am built that way. I am not sure I know how to be any other way.

To get to someone's inner circle, you have to build into it. You have to create and foster the relationship. It doesn't always go to plan....

Last Saturday was a difficult day. It was what would have been Gav's 45th birthday. Gav was someone who occupied a completely different space in my life to anyone else I have ever known. I loved him. We also argued a lot — the kind of arguing that only happens when two people care deeply and are too similar to let things go quietly. And then, without warning, he was gone. An accident. A sudden stop with no resolution, no goodbye, no chance to fix any of it. That kind of grief doesn't really go away. It just changes shape over the years. (Interestingly we sang Affirmation at his funeral and I sang my fucking heart out through the tears - cause I was singing for him!)

So on Saturday I drove to his grave to pay my respects and spent a good part of the day in tears, missing him, wishing things could have been different. And I did it alone. My parents were on holiday. Rich — the guy I am currently seeing — was with his family and said he couldn't get away. There was no one there to catch me. So I drove. And later that night I coded for hours, just to give my brain something to hold onto.

I know how to cope. I am good at it - I have had to do it a lot.... the stiff upper lip Yorkshireman... who is really far from that... But coping alone when you are falling apart is a very particular kind of loneliness.

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I have been getting to know Rich since around Christmas. The first date was extraordinary. Breakfast that turned into a ten-hour day. We talked, laughed, kissed (lots of kissing!), and I remember thinking: could this be someone I could build something with? We spent a weekend in London, had a wonderful time, and when we are together it is — and still is — easy and equal and good, it just feels good and nice.

But in the gaps? That's a different story. I am always the one reaching out. I am always the one suggesting when we might see each other. And more often than not I am left wondering why I bother. A few weeks ago I told him honestly that I had felt like walking away. He reassured me that he does like me. I believe him — I still do. But reassurance without a change in behaviour is just words. Nothing shifted. I am still doing all the reaching. I am still the one left waiting.

I told him I love him too — yes, probably too soon, I know that. But that is who I am. I lead with my heart. I always have. It is both my greatest strength and the thing that leaves me most exposed.

I had arranged another date this weekend with another guy (more fun than date to be honest and kinda one of those to look forwards to) but that has fallen through so I am sitting in Manchester Piccadilly wondering what to do with myself. Had he said something before I got the boat to Heysham, now in the UK... dealing with people which sets off my anxiety.. and wondering what the flipping heck to do with myself!

The relationships that have really stood the test of time — the ones where people are already in the inner circle — those I hold onto without question are the really close connections, and there are very few of them! I am friends with my exes - yes some find this weird, but how can you now be friends with people who have been influential in your life? They know that if they ever needed me I would be there, and I have been. Mark, my most recent ex who walked out of my life two years ago without reason or warning, had cut me out. That is his choice and I respect it. But I won't cut him out of my life. I want him to know I still care, that I am not going to turn my back on him, that he is still loved — even if he never wants to hear it. Same with Chris, he has had times he's needed support and it has been a privilege to be the person who could be there for him.

That might sound like I haven't learned my lesson and leave myself too open to be shafted? But I don't think it is a lesson that needs learning. Loving people, even when it costs you something, is not a mistake. It is just who I am.

I can't say this has not been a hard week and Saturday was the worst of it. I drove and I cried and I coded and I woke up the next morning still here, just keeping it together and just carrying on. And I keep asking myself the same questions, going round in circles with no clear answers.

Am I too much? Am I not enough? Do I invest too freely in people who aren't ready to receive it? Do I love too quickly, too loudly, too openly — and does that push people away before they've had a chance to decide if they want to stay? I still haven't unpicked WTF happened with Mark (and doubt I ever will)!

Or is it simpler than that — have I just not yet found someone who loves the way I do? Someone who thinks time is the most precious thing you can give another person, and chooses to give it?

I genuinely don't know. I show up for the people in my life. I always have. I leave lights on for people who have stopped looking back. I sit at graves on birthdays and feel everything all at once, often alone, because that is what the moment asks of me.

And I wonder — is that strength or is that something I need to change? Is the way I love an asset or is it costing me more than it should?

I don't have the answer yet. I'm not sure I'm supposed to... Maybe I should write to Jim'll fix it :)

Note... Nick (my Shrink) firmly believes that I hold on to relationships so strongly because I never got the chance to close the door with Gav... it's still a gaping hole (he would laugh at that comment!). He's more than likely correct, but I am not sure what the answer is to fix that.. it's a fundamental "bit of me".