M
y ‘invitation’ to slow down came a year ago when I was nearly arrested at the airport. My ex-husband was getting married in Boston to his young American girlfriend and my son was to be best man. ‘How do you feel about that?’ asked my friends. ‘I’m fine,’ I said, as I worked myself into the ground, my go-to strategy to numb my emotions.
ILLUSTRATION: SHUTTERSTOCK
I booked a holiday but, because I’d worked until 2am, I slept through my alarm and tried to sneak onto my flight after the gate had closed. Two men in peaked caps escorted me from the departure lounge by my elbows. I sat and cried on the concourse and decided I had to make some changes. And so began my slow journey.