I need to do my taxes at the moment, and I will find any excuse to avoid doing them. I can fret about tidying my home, wonder endlessly whether someone will get back to me, or obsess over when and how I’m going to do more exercise.
During exams, I would suddenly discover an overwhelming passion for making jewellery and decide to start a new “business” rather than study. If serious admin tasks await me, I find myself consumed by the need to declutter and reorganise my home. Struggling to stay in the moment, to truly settle in and deal with what is in front of me, has long been a challenge. Yet, when I manage it, the feeling of accomplishment is fantastic.
One significant example of this comes from my teenage years in the 1980s. I went to an all-girls, no-uniform school in Knightsbridge, London. My primary school years had been challenging, and I was bullied for being “posh.”
So, when I started secondary school, I made a conscious decision: I was not going to let that happen again. I decided I would make an effort to “fit in.”Many of the girls at my new school were far more affluent than me. They wore Benetton jumpers, skirts, and trousers—items that were the height of fashion at the time.
I, on the other hand, had only two sweatshirt-style rara skirts and matching tops (one black, one red)—my mum’s attempt at creating a pseudo-uniform for me—and a heap of hand-me-downs from family members. I felt ashamed and like a complete outsider. I didn’t have the “right” clothes, so I developed a love for making people laugh. I figured that if I could entertain them with humour, maybe they wouldn’t notice my sartorial shortcomings.
Still, I was determined to “fit in.” I came up with a plan. I decided that if I could acquire six differently coloured Benetton jumpers and a couple of skirts, everything would change. Somehow, I would make friends and become confident.
I was laser-focused. I spent my school holidays doing invoices for Models 1 and worked as a Saturday assistant in a French boutique called Pantalon Chameleon. By December, I had earned enough money to buy six brightly coloured Benetton jumpers—yellow, blue, red, and others—and two kilts, which were all the rage that year.
In 1983, Benetton was it. Their iconic poster campaigns featuring diverse people and highlighting social issues which gave them a progressive, edgy appeal. I was so proud of myself. I thought I’d cracked it—finally, a year of fitting in was within my grasp.
In January, I showed up at school in my new outfits, brimming with confidence—only to discover that the girls had moved on to an entirely new look. Benetton jumpers were suddenly passed over. Now, “Chelsea Girl” and “Miss Selfridge” were in, along with Dynasty-inspired silky, grey-and-mauve glam dresses.
I thought I was finally about to arrive, but the race was already over. I felt devastated, conned, and utterly crushed. How had this happened? Why hadn’t anyone warned me that fashions change? At that moment, I was furious and sad. It all seemed so unfair.
I had tried my absolute best, only to see my efforts rendered meaningless just as I was about to enjoy the rewards. But after sulking for a while, I found the experience liberating. From then on, whenever I had the money for clothes, I bought anything unusual, colourful, or downright outrageous.
The wilder, the better! If I couldn’t fit in, I decided I might as well stand out. I started experimenting with what I had or could borrow, mixing colours, cutting things up, and adding unique touches. Eventually, I stopped caring about “getting it right” and focused on making my own bold statements with fashion.
Which brings me back to the taxes I need to complete. All my life, I’ve been distracted by the belief that if I could just get that person, that job, or that outfit, then everything would fall into place. It’s as if I keep hoping that one external thing will complete my world. When I get caught in this mindset, a dear friend of mine gently whispers the magic words, “Benetton jumpers”, reminding me that these outward fixations are illusions. I’m still learning this lesson—it’s an ongoing journey.
but unattractive jumper from my Uncle.
I’m learning to accept things as they are and focus on what actions I can take from there. Sometimes, people won’t relate to me the way I’d like, or I won’t get the job I want, or I’ll be left waiting for an answer that may never come. And I may never truly “fit in”. But I’m discovering how to embrace myself and let go of the rest.
I’m learning to ask questions, have honest conversations, validate my feelings with care, and find joy in what I create—whether through my workshops, art, or writing. When I start to meditate, I can pause to sit with my vulnerable, anxious parts, letting them feel heard. In doing so, I’m finding it easier to let go of the need to control outcomes.
For me, the key is admitting these tendencies to myself and others. One way I practice surrendering is by shifting from my head to my heart, tuning into my inner wisdom.I’ve included photos below of me, my sisters, my mum and dad, and my best friend, Aggie. Sadly, I couldn’t find any pictures of me in those Benetton jumpers or kilts—I must have given up on them at the time.
If you’re interested in slowing down and reconnecting with what matters most to you, I regularly host online and workshops, see if any suit you.
