Boy, oh boy…..some people seriously have a chip on their shoulder about events to which they think they were not invited.  The thing is, everyone is invited.  It’s really not that difficult to attend Le Diner en Blanc (DeB) Kingston.  All you have to do is ask.  Yes, you need to pay for a ticket; yes, you should bring a picnic, white napkins, white flatware, cutlery and glasses; yes, some kind of table decoration wouldn’t go amiss; yes, in order to drink alcohol, you must purchase wines through DeB; and yes, you must wear all-white.  However, every party/event/concert to which you attend, a ticket must be purchased; if you go to a secluded beach or waterfall, you bring all picnic items, including drinks; anywhere you go, you must dress appropriately in some item of clothing – blue, brown, red and perhaps even white.

I am not saying that everyone can afford all things, but it doesn’t mean that those who can afford it should not spend their money in the way they choose.  Also, they should not be publicly ridiculed.  Are you laughing at the people who send their kids to the most expensive, yet fantastic, universities in the world?  Good for those people!  Their children, who live in our world, are getting a fabulous education.  It’s wonderful.  If only everyone could have that, but at least there are people who can.  Good for them.  Their parents can afford it.  If I could, I would do the same.  Wouldn’t you?  Don’t you want to have the freedom to spend your hard-earned cash on whatever you want?

People on social media are writing that DeB is the ultimate cooler fete – the upperclass version of a cooler fete, some have said.  Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way.  That’s like saying that going to a restaurant, where food is served on china and with cutlery, is basically the upperclass version of going to a patty shop and eating your patty and coco bread out of the brown paper bag.  Let’s all laugh at the people who are being conned into going to the ultimate eating place – a restaurant – when they could be spending less money at the patty shop and not being so fancy by eating off china and with cutlery.  Ha! Ha! Ha!

Now, I know that some people on social media did not mean it this way, but many people did.  It’s been funny to read, actually, and it’s even more hilarious that this is the third year in a row that people are spilling the same crappy insults about Le Diner en Blanc Kingston.  No one, by the way, has come up with any new reason as to why DeB is so bad or so snobby or so….. whatever insults they can think of at the time of writing.  I urge the person who truly feels strongly that DeB is a terrible injustice to our society to put down on paper intellectual, economic and social reasons why those who enjoy DeB should not continue to attend and celebrate this debonair occasion.

FYI – The definition of Debonair: suave, urbane, sophisticated, cultured, self-possessed, self-assured, confident, charming, gracious, courteous, gallant, chivalrous, gentlemanly, refined, polished, well bred, genteel, dignified, courtly; and more

Not a damn thing wrong with being debonair.

I challenge anyone who says they have never come across bullying.  Whether you have been (or still are) personally subjected to mean behaviour, you have witnessed such behaviour, or you are (or have been) the person committing this heinous act, I think we have all felt the concept of bullying in some capacity.

As a child, I got called ‘Whitey’ – whether it was from strangers on the streets of my own country, the kids at the high school attached to my prep school, or from children within my school itself, it was practically a daily occurrence.  I didn’t care, because I liked the way I looked, even though I knew that I was the odd one out, looks-wise.  I look caucasian and, as a child, I had white-blond hair.  I grew up in a little district near May Pen, in Jamaica, and I stood out like a sore thumb.

When I went away to boarding school in England, I was incessantly teased about my accent.  In fact, the first few days there, my peers wanted to know if I spoke English!  Let’s just put it this way…..my Jamaican patois was very strong.  Thereafter, I did learn to speak in proper English, but there have always been some words that I just cannot pronounce in any other way than our way.  ‘Aahx’ for ‘Ask’; ‘Hair’ for ‘Here’; ‘Bare’ for ‘Beer’; ‘Thairter’ for ‘Theatre’ – trust me, English people will get you every time for imprecise pronunciation.  The thing is, it never bothered me.  I actually thought that my accent was cool.  I still do.

Then, when I came back to Jamaica for school holidays, I was teased by my Jamaican friends for sounding English!! Okay, that one did get to me.  Badly.  It was one thing to be teased by these foreigners – English people – because I knew that my people would always be right there waiting for me in Jamaica.  Even when the English ‘aahxed’ me if I lived in a treehouse or if I was adopted by black people, I just thought they were hilariously ignorant.  Their behaviour was on them, not on me.  I was an invincible and unique creature.  So, I did not expect to return home every holidays for the teasing that came my way.  I now had a transatlantic accent, I suppose.  Was that a betrayal to my Jamaica?  I was no longer authentic?  It hurt me, but my personality overcame the pain.

As I grew older, the accent-teasing continued – thankfully, because it reminded me how cool I was.  However, teenage girls at boarding school can be really awful to one another.  I wasn’t even subjected to the worst kind of mean-girl attitude there is, but I saw it.  I saw the torment that went on.  I witnessed some of these girls, with no friends at school, get picked on and persecuted.  I spoke up, sometimes, but certainly not all the time.  I did, however, always try to be as kind as I could be, even though I see now that I should have been more vocal against those who were bullies.

Now, as an adult, I have been bamboozled (bullied, if you will) by other grownups.  I have allowed it, not wanting to bring attention to the behaviour and therefore embarrassing the bully.  Enough is enough.  I have young children and I need to show them that they must never allow or put up with a bully.  I am learning how to deal with bullies, so must they.  I must be the person to teach them how to deal with said bullies.  I do not care how small or petty it might seem, because that’s where it starts.  Small and petty.  But when it is not addressed, dealt with, stopped, you are asking for future trouble.  You are condoning the unkindness, the abuse.  You are telling the bully that it is okay for him/her to act that way, that he/she can do and act as they please, no matter whom he/she is hurting.  That is unacceptable.

If you are a parent of a bully, grow up and do something about it.  If you are an adult who witnesses bullying, use your ‘authority’ and speak to the children.  If you are a child who sees another child being bullied, you too have a voice.  Speak up against bullying.  It is your right to do so.  If you are the child being bullied or you are the parent of a child being bullied, here are some tools to help you and your child:  Ignore the bully and walk away, laughing; Give the bully a good stare, straight-faced stare, then get back to doing what you were doing; Verbally confront them with a ‘Really?  You really think that is acceptable behaviour?’ or ‘Why would you say that?  What grounds/proof do you have for saying that?’ or ‘Should I call you stupid?  Would that make you feel better about yourself?’ or some other such sentence that makes them think about what they have done.

Remember this: bullies are usually behaving that way to overcompensate for something they are lacking – attention, love, self-worth, confidence.  I know that doesn’t necessarily help when you are the victim of bullying, but try and take a step back after the fact and see your self-worth, know that you are a wonderful person, and if the bullies really are persistent with their abuse, just tell them that you feel sorry for them.  That might well shut them up.

What do we tag a person’s worth to?  Money or material things?  Career?  Position in said career?  Who his/her family is?  Education?  Personality?

We live in a society that likes to box people into a compartment that we can comprehend.

Who is your father?  There is a question we get asked in Jamaica all the time.  We start off by needing to pin you to someone whom we might know, especially someone who might be successful.

What do you do?  We need to know what your job is.  Is your job important in our view?  It helps if you own a successful business that we have heard of; it helps if you are CEO, partner or some other prestigious position in a well-known, successful company; it helps if you are someone whom other ‘important’ people have talked about with high regard; it helps if your position can give us some gain.

The latter leads to this:  How can you help me?  What can I get for free?  Knowing you and becoming friendly with you will help me gain something I need or want.  I will be your friend.

Don’t for a minute think that this is not the case.  The majority of people are like this, in some way.  Even the people who don’t mean to do it, they do it.  They might catch themselves and stop, but it’s part of human nature.  How can I better serve myself?  The good people in this world do catch themselves at some point in life – sometimes when they are very young, in which case they become selfless adults; others change later in life, when they realize it is better to be selfless and kind.  However, there are those who will always be like this.  These people might well be generous and kind, but to whom are they being generous and kind?  To the unknown person with the ‘average’ job?  No.  Probably not.

Please note that I in no way believe anyone’s job is average.  If you are honestly awarded a job and work honestly and hard in your job, bringing harm to no one, then your job is far from average.  Your job is important.  If you don’t have a job and you live a good life being honest, selfless and kind, you are important.

I’ve watched the way people behave – the way they behave towards one another, the way they ignore or shun those who can’t offer them something they need or want, the way they are outright rude as there is no gain for them if they practice a little politeness.  It’s disgusting and it’s shameful, but the grace is held by the person who knows their own kindness, their own intelligence, their own human decency and their own self-worth.

It’s been one day shy of four weeks since the Women’s March on Washington shook the world – Saturday, January 21st 2017.  While I wish that I had been able to attend one of the peaceful protests that were taking place that day, I still felt very much a part of the movement – thanks to social media.  In fact, every day I feel very much a part of this movement.

There can be a misconception over what feminism actually means.  A gaggle of unshaven women burning their bras in public, letting their breasts hang out and destroying the credibility of men – just some of the misconceived notions.  WRONG!

Feminism demands that women be socially, personally, economically and politically equal to men.  Simply put – all humans are created equally and must therefore be granted equal opportunities.  Seriously, that’s all.  Nothing complicated about it, nothing sinister.  Nobody is trying to belittle you, dear man.  We just want you to shed your narcissistic male chauvinism, because it really is screwing with our lives.  Truly.  It’s not just your opinion, as you like to say on so many occasions.  We know that everyone has a right to opine on matters – we are NOT idiots and we do NOT want to prevent one’s freedom to express oneself.  HOWEVER, when your opinion stretches past private dinner party chatter, that opinion matters – to us, to children, to the world.

Gone are the days of secret banter between a handful of people.  Everyone is listening to you now.  Not that it was okay for you to ever be that way, but that time has gone, so we move on.

That said, Today and Tomorrow, we can and we shall demand and fight for our rights.  As a woman, I stand up for all women and I speak up for all women.  If you’re being mentally or physically abused, I shall stand up and speak up.  If you’re not getting equal pay, yet doing the same fantastic job (or better) than your male co-worker, I shall stand up and I shall speak up.  If you have been extraordinarily successful and people are putting you down for it, I shall stand up and I shall speak up.  If someone discriminates against you for any reason, I shall stand up and I shall speak up.  In support of you making decisions about your body, your mind, your heart, your life, I shall stand up and I shall speak up.  I implore all women and all men to stand up and speak up also.  This is the future of humankind.  #StandUpSpeakUp

Is honesty always the best policy?  Are there instances when it is okay to tell a lie?  If so, how do you grade or quantify said lie?  Some say that it’s okay to lie if you’re protecting someone, but from what exactly could you be protecting them?

Parents lie to their kids.  We lie about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy.  Possibly, we lie when the family goldfish dies or when a family member is terminally ill.  Basically, we lie all the time to our children, but we do this to protect them from pain or, in the case of Santa etc, to let them have a piece of magic in their lives for as long as possible.  That’s okay, right?  I don’t remember being angry with my parents when I discovered that these creatures, who brought me stocking presents, chocolate eggs and money, were in fact fantastical made-up people.  However, don’t tell me that my brothers never got to stay up late at eight years old because you don’t want me to stay up late.  I damn well knew that they had stayed up late at that age and it pissed me off that they would lie to me about it.

Of course, I forgave my parents for these tales they told.  As I grew older, I understood the difference between the important lies and the ones that were not so important.  The problem with this, however, is that children will also lie to their parents.  Sure, it’s drummed into us that this a bad thing, but we know that our parents are telling us lies, so what’s the difference?  How bad could it be to lie about where we were exactly last night?  Is it so awful to deny breaking the glass figurine?  Do you see where I am going with this?  Parents set the example.  Children follow, naturally.

Personally, I have made it very clear to my kids that they will get into more trouble if they lie about anything.  If they tell me the truth, I reward them, but if it’s something they did that is really bad, a repetitive offense or hurting someone, then they will be punished for that incident, just not to the same extent were they to have lied.  Am I being a hypocrite?

Generally, I do not lie to my boys – I don’t sugarcoat horrid happenings, if they ask, but I answer with the bare minimum of information.  Embarrassing questions about sex and such – ditto.  Discussions about God and what happens after we die – I encourage them to have their own beliefs and draw their own conclusions, but I tell them what I believe, if they ask.  The same goes for Santa and so on, actually.  The seven-year-old has queried his existence, solely because kids in his class no longer believe, but I ask him if he believes.  So far the answer is yes.  Will he be mad with me when he discovers the truth one day?  I doubt it.

So, what about when a grownup lies to another grownup?  Now this happens all the time!  Don’t deny it.  We are all guilty, to some extent.  One of the consequences is that we are only creating a more complicated situation when we tell lies.  It’s bloody difficult to keep up, so why do we bother?  What are we afraid of?  Frankly, it’s not worth it to lie and the easiest way to tell the truth is to do so immediately.  Don’t hesitate, don’t wait for a better moment (there never is one), don’t worry about how people will react.  It doesn’t matter whom you are dealing with – a work colleague, your boss, an employee, your spouse, your friend, an acquaintance or a stranger – just tell them the truth.  Tell them the truth because it’s the right thing to do; tell them truth so that you don’t have to keep up with, and stress about, what lies you’ve been spinning; tell them the truth because you don’t want to be known as a liar; and tell them the truth because you don’t want anyone’s heart to be on fire.

Many opinions have been flying around social media throughout the life of Hurricane Matthew and I’m sure that these will continue to be part of the package deal until Matthew gets his comeuppance and dies a tragic death over the Atlantic Ocean.

When we got wind (pardon the pun, I couldn’t resist!) of the wobbly weather coming our way early last week, I must admit that I was in La La Land, more through hopefulness than anything else. However, when I realised that Matthew posed a real threat to The Rock, upon which we live, I swiftly made a list of all the preparations and precautions that my family and I would have to make and take. I’ve been through this before – Allen, Gilbert, Ivan, Dean, Gustav, Sandy. Imagine, in my almost 41 years of life, at least some places (in some cases, the entire island) in Jamaica have been quite badly affected by six hurricanes. In all circumstances, my family has taken the possibility of the hurricane causing devastation to Jamaica quite seriously. Why wouldn’t we? I’m not going to list all the ways in which the six aforementioned storms did in fact affect us, because all that information is either known by my readers or may be found on the Internet. However, due to these instances, there was no way we were letting our guard down this time around.

House stocked with food and water to last a long time (we live on a hill, where the roads leading to our house are prone to landslides), windows and doors battened down, pictures and mirrors removed from walls, and basically all items secured as best as possible, we were as ready for the worst case scenario as possible. My parents, who live in the country, equipped themselves similarly, but went one step further. You see, they had this enormously tall Norfolk Island Pine Tree, which they planted as a suckling back in 1973. This tree had survived all previous storms, but Matthew was teetering between a Category 4 and Category 5 hurricane and the said tree was considerably taller (one might say, “biglier” 😂) than it was when the last devastating hurricane – Gilbert – blew into our air space. “You can replant the tree, Mr. Sharp,” the saw-man said to my Dad. “But you can’t replant your house.” While it was an easy decision to take, it was emotionally very difficult for my father to watch that tree fall to its fate.

So when Matthew veered away from making us his target, did my dad have any regrets about having the tree chopped down? “Not one bit,” he told my 7 year old son, his grandson. “Imagine what could have happened had Matthew hit us?” Which brings me to the chants, on social media and around town, about wasting time and money. At first, I thought I’d heard wrong. Human beings were actually saying these things? I’m sorry, but did any of you go out and buy boxes and boxes of lettuce? I didn’t think so. The last I checked, plywood, rope, tape, water, box milk, soft drinks, alcohol, tinned food, crackers, flour, rice and all other dried food you stocked up on, will not go to waste! Sure, you would not regularly make such a big spend in one sitting, so cash flow may now be a problem. However, these items can keep and be used in the near future – you have to eat and drink don’t you? As for the new shutters you had to fashion? Well, now you have new shutters and will be prepared for the next time. And, last time I checked (again), having a hurricane actually hit us would have cost us even more money, not to mention the possibility of people’s and animals’ lives being lost. Do I need to make a longer list of all the ‘things’ we could have lost and their accompanying costs? Send me a message if you need the clarification, because I’m ready for you.

By the way, some of these same people complaining that the government sensationalized Matthew, frightening us to spend so much – these people……same ones thanking God for sparing our lives. Oh yes, God spared Jamaica and has mercy on us…..I could go on, but it’s all there on Facebook and Twitter. So was Matthew heading for us and then God picked Matthew up and shifted him? Blew him away? I’m sorry, I thought you said that our Government were wrong telling us that Matthew was headed straight for us last week? Surely, therefore, we should be pissed at God. Matthew was coming for us, after all, and God was the one who decided to spare us and make us waste all the things we bought? Yup, that is ridiculous. Okay, so let’s look at it from another perspective. The Government of Jamaica actually handled the hurricane drama very well, keeping us informed of the path it was taking and the preparations we should be making. Prime Minister Andrew Holness did his duty. We were spared the worst – what a relief. Yet, you still believe that God chose to spare us over Haitians, Cubans, Bahamians, Americans? You people need to read about the scientific laws of physics and weather. It’s all there on the same internet upon which you are ranting – really it is!l

We are a nation full of entitlement. The rich believe they have the right to be treated with VIP status, because they have lots of money. The poor believe they have a right to be looked after, because they don’t have any money. In between, we have a small, but luckily growing, middle class, who are working very hard. Not that the rich and the poor aren’t working hard also, but what I really mean is that regardless of our financial stance and of the efforts we put into our jobs, most Jamaicans have a sense of entitlement.

Have you ever given something to someone in greater need and then that same person keeps coming back for more? No “Thank you”. No “I really appreciate your help”. They simply continue asking for more. They become used to being given something for nothing, not even gratitude. Almost like they are owed.

Handouts are not the only things people have come to expect. Twelve years ago, while at a music festival, I was walking through the crowd to get close to the stage. There was so many people there that I had to dodge artfully and skillfully through everyone, so that I would not step on anyone’s feet, nor bounce them around. I came across a large number of patrons sitting on the grass, so I apologised as I stepped over them. There was no other way around and these people were not getting up. All of a sudden, one lady jumped up and screamed at me: “You can’t see this is my spot, lady? Is my spot this.”

I looked at her right in the eyes and replied, “The US$50 you spent to get in did not buy you this plot of land.” She seemed shocked and turned away in a strop. I continued on my way.

A couple of weeks ago, while attending an exercise class at a gym I have recently joined, I was minding my own business, making great effort to respect the personal space of all those around me. The lady next to me told me that I needed to move, because I was in her space. This time I was shocked. I moved behind her, but that didn’t stop her from ensuring that I didn’t get too close. The moment at the music festival all those years ago came to mind. The cost of gym membership does not buy a patron a piece of the studio. The only thing that stopped me from saying anything is the fact that I did not want to embarrass all the other women, who were well within earshot. There’s a time and a place to make a scene, and that was neither. With that said, I have absolutely spoken out, over the years, when someone has pulled a “Do you know who my father is?” Not only is it cliche to pull that line, it is also incredibly self-indulged.

So where does this entitlement come from and who perpetuates it? The answer is it comes from us and we allow it. The irony, of course, is that it also annoys the crap out of many of us. Unless we are reaping the benefits ourselves, we don’t like it when others get special treatment.

Jamaicans suffer from a seriously classist society and we do ourselves a great disservice by letting this be. And don’t think that this behaviour is not catching. It is. I have seen expatriates from all over the world come to this country and eventually many of them, but by no means all, act in the exact same way. These culprits waltz in here, thinking that they are better than us and the expats who don’t behave like this, and again we allow it. A nation of pride. A nation full of talent. A nation that is strong. Yet we have lived like this for hundreds of years. Has it been, and is it still, worth the cost?

There has been much discussion, within Jamaica’s public forum, about the way in which one’s appearance does influence another’s judgement. This is nothing new, really, as we Jamaicans have always loved to comment on that man’s exposed briefs and this woman’s tight-up skirt. However, more recently, the ‘dress-code’ within our schools has been in the forefront.

On a radio programme, which aired at the end of August, it came to my attention that the head of a school had rescinded a job offer upon noticing that the said hired teacher, who was qualified for the job, had a tattoo. On another radio programme, which aired a week later, it became apparent that a girl student, who attended another school, was refused entry due to the school citing that her skirt was too short, even though the skirt’s length was indeed within the school’s rules. It also came to my attention that what the school did was in fact wrong, as any student registered to a school cannot be refused entry. On the same day, I read an article, which was in one of our newspapers, that informed us of a parent of a very young boy being told that she had to cut his hair or else he would not be allowed to join the school.

If any of you are nodding your head in agreement with what happened in these three cases, I would like to know why. Like seriously, why? For those of you who think that all of the above is r@@s (a Jamaican expression, for all you foreigners) ridiculous, congratulations on moving past the last century.

Let’s get back to the tattoo. The principal of that particular school said that he felt an exposed tattoo would send a negative message to the students, hence why the policy was in place. At the interview of the teacher whom he hired, the tattoo had not been seen. I am desperately trying to view all of this from the principal’s perspective, but I am finding it incredibly difficult. How does a tattoo on someone else influence a child’s behaviour or performance? Are tattoos magical? Do they somehow jump off someone’s skin, draw a knife on a kid and force him or her to hand over lunch money or cell phone? Are they able to mystically climb through a student’s ear, get into the brain, then tell him or her to be rude, disrespectful and mean? Do they force people to steal? Pay attention, people, I am still talking about tattoos. The teacher is qualified, yet what he chooses to put on his skin affects his qualification and capability? I was under the impression that one’s upbringing, and the way in which they are treated and taught, are the main aspects that influence a child’s actions and academia.

Now to the skirt. Uniforms are chosen by schools, and in many cases places of work, so that those in attendance may be identified as going to that institution, they appear ‘uniform’, and they aren’t exposing private parts of their bodies. Hence why it is best to wear the uniforms as intended – a certain length, buttons done up, pants pulled up, etcetera. However, as a minister stated, the girl should have been allowed into school and her parents should have been contacted, so that the matter could have been discussed and dealt with appropriately and without discrimination and media attention.

Finally, the hair. A photo of the little boy was printed in the paper. Firstly, I fail to see how his hair was considered long. Secondly, had hair been even longer, why would this matter? I’m back to the question about magic. Does long hair (on a boy) mean that said child magically becomes a bad person? Are girls at this school allowed to have long hair? I’m actually laughing as I type this blog. Seriously…..LONG HAIR. Why do you care?

As I sit here in physical pain, I know that there are those of you who have more pain than I have ever experienced. How do I know that? Well, the truth is, I don’t. I do not know how your body feels. Equally, you do not know how mine feels to me.

I was talking to my physical therapist about the quality of pain. I told her that what was once painful for me fifteen years ago is no longer the case. That pain – I am used to it now, or perhaps I have recently experienced an even worse pain, so the past pain pales in comparison. Anyway, my PT told me that when someone in the medical field asks their patient to scale their pain, they are not comparing it to anyone else. They simply want to know what the level of pain is for you. How do you feel now? Where does your discomfort fall within your own capability to cope? Or something like that, at least. Ergo, as treatment progresses, the patient is continually asked the same question, giving the doctor/therapist, or whomever, a good idea of whether or not you are improving.

Unfortunately, pain does not always dissipate. Sure, an acute pain is more than likely going to subside eventually, but chronic pain is harder to combat. Chronic pain can keep going and going – it’s known as intractable pain. At the start, you will be grateful that it’s not acute, but when it just does not subside, it becomes exhausting and a form of torture. Therein lies the necessity of pain management.

There are several medications one may take for pain, but not every pill works for every person. The ins and outs of medicines must be discussed with doctors – the people who are able to prescribe them. However, medicines on their own might not be effective, resulting in said torture.
So, how exactly are you expected to manage? What can you do to help yourself? I can’t promise you that what I’m about to suggest will work for you, but I am going to tell you what I am doing. I am basically being proactive about my pain.

Despite being physically uncomfortable, I have joined a gym. The shocking part is not that I am trying to exercise through the pain, but that I have joined a gym! Folks, I innately hate the gym and any form of exercise affiliated with the gym, but I have made up my mind that I am going to enjoy this and enjoy the process of becoming fit again. Up to about twenty years ago, I was actually incredibly fit, having spent all my school years playing team sports – netball, field hockey, lacrosse, cricket, rounders, and even water polo. Those were fun. I was never that good at what I call individual sports, such as squash or tennis, but teams sports…..I loved and I was really good at them.

I think the reason why I needed team sports in my life is because I wanted to be outside and I wanted to be part of a group who had one common goal – to win! Okay, okay, winning is not everything, but it sure helps to raise the endorphins. While many people find that any form of exercise raises their endorphins, historically I have found that working out in a gym is really quite lonely. I have had no common goal to share with anyone. This time, it’s different. This time, I have a bigger purpose. My health depends on it. My children and my husband, therefore, depend on it. I have two friends who have also signed up for the same ‘special’. They are doing it to get fit themselves, but they are aware of why I am doing it and they are supportive of my reasons. Together, we have a common goal, and because of their support, I know that I will beat this pain. I know that, in the end, I shall win.

How many of you have been in a long distance relationship at some point in your life? A new boyfriend, a serious love, or even a spouse? For some of you, you might not have found it that difficult, but for others, perhaps, it seemed next to impossible.

Traveling back and forth between my home in Jamaica and school in the UK, I was put in this position a few times, but I was in my late teens, so it was no big deal to leave the present puppy-love interest for a few months. To be honest, the boyfriends in those days didn’t even last so long, nor would they have, even if I had stayed put in one place. I was, however, put in a position when I was 19 years old. I fell in love with someone on the other side of the world (and in the opposite hemisphere), but I knew that it was completely impractical to pursue it past a few more months of long distance love letters. I know that I broke his heart in a great effort to save my own from eventually breaking, but it was testament to the fact that I was incapable of being in any relationship that required me to be distant from any man. Call it self-preservation, if you will, because I suppose that is what it was.

This brings me to think about what distance means.

A friend of mine has been in a long distance relationship with her husband for fifteen years. Small pockets of time have had their family living together, but for the majority of this duration, they have lived in different countries. Their reasons for doing this are understandable – job, money, extended family support, personal happiness – but of course, there have always been those who have judged her for the decisions made in the last decade and a half. It has not been, nor is it presently, easy for my friend, as she still makes every effort to make decisions that will bring about the greater good for the five of them in their immediate family. She and her husband have been through ups and downs, like in any marriage, but with the added stress of not being physically together for the majority of the time. However, as she pointed out to me, “You have people sleeping together in the same bed every night and they themselves are actually in a long distance relationship.”

How true are her words, right? How easy it is to let life and the daily stresses of work, raising children, supporting the family financially, and every little thing in between, cause us to shut down emotionally and verbally, resulting in an uncomfortable silence and a long term lack of communication. Before we have had a chance to realise that this is happening, we find ourselves proverbial distant from our relationship – a situation we have created, while the people in physically long distance relationships have a common goal in mind – to eliminate the distance and keep the channel of communication wide open.