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Mettle Monday - Transparent Camouflage
James Elliott • Mar 16, 2020
Written by James Elliott
A lot of the stories I’ve seen on The Forge, start with an incredible individual who has an ingrained personality trait that drives them to brilliance, a burning, insatiable desire to explore, defy limits or not just push but entirely destroy the boundaries of humanity. I am not one of those. I don’t know how I’ve wound up as one of the Army’s mental resilience coaches, I sometimes feel like an impostor, as it stands there’s only two of us, and the man that started the whole thing, is a far better man than I.
I didn’t have a particularly remarkable birth, there were no thunderstorms or howling wolves or mythological visions, it was a rushed birth in Hammersmith London, with the ambulance doors wide open, providing me with the lifetime smart-arsed return when someone inevitably says “born in a barn” with “no, but I was born in an ambulance with the doors wide open”, normally earning me a well earned thump to the head.
My mother was a ballerina, who had began working in advertising and met my biological father, it is essential that we get this terminology correct, he may have been biologically my father, but, as this blog will reveal, he decided long ago to lose the title of “Dad”. It was not a happy relationship between the two of them, I often remember hiding in the bathroom with my older sister, as he would ritualistically beat my mother. She left, my sister went with her to live with her permanently. My biological father was importing drugs from mainland Europe under the guise of a luxury chocolates company. It was not an enjoyable time, even writing this I can tell that I am far from over what used to happen behind closed doors. Away from the eyes of the businessmen and fake friends that were drawn to his luxurious lifestyle, the top hotels and fancy cars and trips away, was a very damaged and evil man. The abuse I suffered at his hands I will never forgive, it can’t be, I know that we should never hold onto a negative emotion, but I will never have what it takes to let it go.
Eventually, he was caught, and he went to prison, what followed was the meeting of my Mum’s new boyfriend in a very lovely small town near Oxford, who I quickly understood, was a Dad, and a good man. He took me on, he already had 2 sons, and me, an over emotional and unsurprisingly very broken little boy and somehow managed to keep me out of prison and in a school (barely at times). I grew in confidence from my sport, a keen rugby player I found an amount of peace being surrounded by friends in physical endeavor, I started to play more and more sport, from boxing, squash and running I was extremely physically motivated even hopping on my bike and pedaling out of town to use a very small body building gym, which was put into an old 17th century chapel. Surrounded by role models, particularly at my local rugby club I began to grow. However, my prospects did not, leaving school as soon as I could without a huge amount to go on, I started working jobs on building sites, becoming more and more wild in my nights out, taking drugs and fighting, fighting a lot. I left the family home and did not do well in my teenage desperation to stand on my own 2 feet.
My saving grace was a good friend from the rugby club, a mentor and role model to me, an ex Royal Marine asking me why I didn’t join the army. I went into the careers office and my feet barely touched the ground after that, identifying me as being extremely fit and extremely lost, I was exactly the kind of candidate that the British Army gives purpose and drive to. I started my basic training in 2006.
The next few years were an absolute whirlwind. I remember absolutely loving P company and joining my Regiment 7 Para RHA and into the 3 Para Battle Group, a great unit, so close knit, taking pride in there relative obscurity within the Airborne Forces, being presented with my maroon beret and its enormous effect on my self - efficacy, suddenly I wasn’t the son of a drug lord, a victim of some serious child abuse nor a school drop - out, I had purpose, I had drive, I had the ability to achieve things that I never truly believed that I could. Soldiering became a lifestyle for me, never missing an opportunity to train or develop as a soldier. Course after course, getting on an aeroplane with months worth of clothing stuffed into bags was normal and a lifestyle I thrived on, the adrenaline, the camaraderie, but I was never truly happy. I had this weight I was convinced it wasn’t obvious, but it was. What I can tell you, is that in 2011 on return from the last full deployment of 16 Air Assault Brigade to Afghanistan, I felt very, very different. There was a terrible loss at the very end of the tour, I remember the night so vividly, even writing this I have had to stop to make a brew, it was such a damn cold night, it was almost poetic for the effect it would have on me for years and years to come. witnessing the death of 2 British Soldiers whom I’d worked with on that tour hit me hard. Really hard, that cold numbing me to all feelings of love the same way the cold temperature numbed my extremities. At the time I had a pregnant girlfriend who was carrying my beautiful daughter Georgina, unfortunately her fidelity whilst I was away was less than in - tact, but I did the decent squaddie thing anyway and married her. My reasoning being that I wanted to be the best father that I could for my daughter, much to the horror of both my mum and dad, the real reason being I was totally emotionally vulnerable, I didn’t know what I was, who I was, I hated myself.
It’s here that I can really identify my decline in my mental health, I tried to distract myself from it by pursuing goals. From selection to the special forces to volunteering for course after course in the army, I was desperate not to face my demons, losing often whole days and weeks to the feelings of guilt and shame and loathing that I had for myself. I had convinced myself that I hid it well, but looking back, the man that gets blind drunk at every opportunity, that thrashes himself relentlessly on physical training, that volunteers to go away and go do arduous courses, who shaves his head even though he has no requirement to and will fight the world at the smallest of nudges, is probably hiding some real problems. I failed special forces selection, unsurprisingly really for an angry young man that was running from himself and not for the goal of being an operator and upon my return, there was the break up. I will never agree with my ex-wife’s behavior, but she is, and always will be the mother of my daughter so I shall avoid speaking ill of her. The night I discovered her and her date, was one of the lowest of my life, I sat in my prison cell, wondering what I was going to do, the blessing of the mitigating factors, the support of my Regiment and a magistrate with humanity let me go with minimal charges. I returned to my Chain of Command who identified that I was now in a bad way, moved back into the accommodation in camp and watched like a hawk by my friends. I drank, I fought, I acted up, I lost access to my daughter, I was ineffective at work and I felt suicidal. I sent myself on a mental health journey.
You’ll be pleased to know that this is where things started to get better. I had a huge amount of free time on my hands, so the local newly promoted rugby club took me on as their strength and conditioning coach. I started to train lads, as a sportsman and qualified physical training instructor, I began to explain to the lads about training and development. I began to make new friends and find sense of purpose. I began to grow again, as per the young lad that passed P company, I felt pride, the fight back had started.
2016, the RAF turned to 16 Air Assault Brigade and said they could no longer provide the man power required to support the Brigades parachuting, so a request went to the soldiers, who wants to be the British Army’s first parachuting instructors. I was taken to one side and strongly advised by my “army dad” (everyone has one) to push for the job. So, I did, I pushed hard and I found myself sat in front of the Brigade commander who gave me his blessing along with 7 other lads to go to RAF Brize Norton and begin our training.
I continued to pursue my mental health treatment privately as I did my parachuting instructors course, keeping both worlds very separate and it worked. Every day I felt more normal, death in Afghanistan was inevitable and not my specific fault, abuse is a reflection of the parent, not the child, strength comes from within it is intrinsic. I loved my time in Brize I joined a rugby team called Horus 7s, that raises money for military charities under the supervision of an injured RAF individual, a man I admire greatly. We attend the best 7s tournaments and break world records, including the longest game of rugby 7s and the longest game of rugby 10s, playing for 24 and a half hours straight. Great achievements for everyone involved and again I grew in confidence. My self - belief grew.
I got more involved in mental health, having passed the Army Parachute Jumping Instructors Course 001, I saw the amazing effect you could have on a young soldier that would look up to us instructors with such admiration, that we could genuinely influence them into being better soldiers with a few choice words and actions. I became so passionate about how I could mentor these lads identifying a lot of my young and angry self in them. It was some of the best times of my career and yeah there would be frustrations, but that’s part and parcel of all work. I loved it, I really loved it, there is nothing more rewarding than handing those young soldiers their British Parachute wings, young paras that have strived and grafted and worked to be where they are, reminding me how it felt to be there. I noticed the same feelings when lads would speak to me abut their problems, normally work related, as I’d fitted nicely into the role of the experienced and naughty full screw that could answer their questions from a position of credibility.
Uncharacteristically for me, I was reading my emails one day and noticed an email from Army Mental Health, saying about the new OPSMART programme, feeling particularly passionate about mental health and the lads that morning I fired an email at the SO2 Mental Health (someone very important), saying my 10 pence. It should be the lads looking after each other, peer to peer support, bring back the notion that senior soldiers can be like big brothers/sisters to the juniors, that we can rely more on each other. I got a reply, to my horror, it was along the lines of “come on then”. I was quickly whisked away on instructor courses for mental health and in the process was introduced to the designer and developer of this seemingly brand new initiative called Mental Resilience Training, I don’t know what he saw in me, but he made me his right hand man and placed me well under his wing.
I now go from camp to camp, teaching the soldiers to look after each other, to employ mental resilience, the power of positive imagery and self talk, how to control their emotions and optimize their performances. I teach the soldiers how to manage their minds and develop their own understanding of mental resilience. My social media also hugely expanded, I have on a daily basis anything from 5-20 people approach me, mainly military, about mental health, I sign post, let them vent and discuss plans to help them. I train with people in gyms to help promote the link between physical well-being and mental well-being. I love it, I use my own learned experiences and knowledge to help them.
I see my daughter every other weekend and half of holidays, I have love in my life and I have goals that I am striving for. Every day that I get to make a step closer to where I want to be, I get a feeling of reward that I have never known, I am stronger than ever and growing. My mental health although still slightly wobbles from time to time has never been stronger, I use this to teach. When it comes to mental health, a person can drown in a puddle or a person can drown in an ocean, the size of the body of water is irrelevant, what matters is that they are drowning. You can’t drag them to safety though, you must teach them how to swim and you can only teach a person to swim, if, you yourself have swam. The mental resilience team continues to grow with some outstanding professional soldiers on board, as does the other side of OPSMART (the Army’s mental health initiative), mental health awareness, again amazing individuals with their own stories of love, loss and growth. It is an honour to work beside them under the guidance of the most passionate and fierce woman of mental health I have ever known, do not cross her, her baking is sublime, however.
I have avoided the use of specific names in this for the individual’s sake, but I must thank them, but I’ll use the names only a few will know, Swede, Duffy, Dubsy, Old man Jordan and his ever better half, Soaps, Buggers, MTM, Haaaaary, Aldo, Bobby, Taff and of course NTYRSHUTZ for their continued listening to me, support and love.
I’d have done something very silly if it wasn’t for these people at certain points and of course for the guidance they give me.
James is an Army mental resilience coach and father. He is a world record holding rugby player and strength & conditioning coach. A veteran of Afghanistan and ex parachuting instructor.
Most girls dream of their big day, meeting the love of their life and having the most beautiful wedding. They have a dream dress in mind sometimes well before even knowing the person they might marry. But for me it was different, I never dreamt of that day. In fact I had a perspective that was quite the opposite.
When Brin and I brought our first house, we were beyond excited to finally have our own space. We moved in together in June 2015 and couldn't wait to start our next chapter. A few days before Christmas 2015, we were both going on our annual works night out, I dropped him off at the pub, he told me he loved me and that was to be the last time I saw him.
Written by Wendy Searle When I reached the South Pole in 2020, I was exhausted, elated and not a little relieved. I had just completed a 42-day solo, unsupported expedition; over 700 miles of vast, white nothingness. Those feelings persisted throughout the flight back from Pole (which took only 4 hours, to do what had taken me five weeks), throughout the return to the UK via South America. I had already been delayed at the start, thanks to bad weather, so I returned to work after a long weekend at home. My colleagues seemed genuinely glad to see me back, and were interested in my journey. For the first week or so, I couldn’t sleep, despite being achingly tired. (I also couldn’t stop eating, after losing 10 kilos in just over a month, so much so that I once had to stop for supplies during a 15-minute walk.) I was high as a kite, and still so wired after the continual focus of expedition life. It’s akin to climbing, or skydiving, where your whole focus is in the moment. Was I too cold? That could be fatal. Was I too hot? A surprising risk in polar latitudes, as if you sweat it will freeze. Was my kit OK? How long to the next break? And on and on, for what felt like forever when I was actually out on the ice. It’s that element of total immersion, of being so far removed from the everyday – emails, traffic, work; that is at once so daunting and so addictive. After the initial high dropped to merely walking around being more back there than present here, I started to think about going back to training. For what though? I had nothing to train for, and very little in reserve. I took to tyre hauling, which is what I spent so much of my time doing in the run up to the expedition – the traditional method of building leg strength and endurance for pulling a sled (or pulk) for 11-12 hours a day. As soon as I strapped on my pulk harness, I could transport myself back to Antarctica. And that helped, because I was struggling to readjust to life after expedition. It wasn’t just those weeks alone on skis that I missed. I’d been planning, training and fundraising for what amounted to just over 1,000 hours, for five years. I’d met a team of soldiers who were traversing Antarctica, and I became more and more drawn to this extraordinary continent. I read some polar history, some accounts of the first Polar expeditions, when they were true explorers. Despite not having any kind of adventure experience to speak of, I was hooked. I dedicated my life to making the expedition happen. Everything was in pursuit of the Pole. If I read a book, it was about Antarctica, if I had free time, it was spent attending events where potential sponsors might be found. I spoke to everyone who had ever been to the South Pole that I could. After working out what training and experience would be required, I set about ticking it off; Norway training, a spectacular crossing of the Greenland ice sheet, time alone in Iceland. The training was, if not at the level of an Olympic athlete, was certainly dedicated. Twice a day, for six days a week, I hauled tyres, ran up hills, lay in rivers and ice baths, and put up my tent in my house, over and over so I’d have the muscle memory ingrained when I was tired at the end of a long day skiing. Once I was back, I decided the only cure for the huge gap in my life that all those things had left, was another expedition. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard, but I actually missed the build-up, the nurturing of this idea, which became the expedition, which eventually took on a life of its own. I missed the slightly-sick feeling in my stomach when I thought about actually having to go ahead with what I set out to do, the uncertainty of my ability to complete the journey. When COVID stopped all travel outside the UK, my plans took a hit. The world became smaller overnight – so small it really only included Wiltshire, where I live. I’d gone from an all-or-nothing challenge to, well, nothing. Ideas, plans, even talks with sponsors, were pushed into the long grass. Ironically, after finding the South Pole on my own, I felt a bit lost. But gradually I began to see that the adventure can lie in the everyday. I had to if I wasn’t going to lose my mind. I bought a mountain bike for the first time, and began to explore the local off-road routes and tiny jumps. I wrote a book proposal about my journey. In the end, I think that period of quiet gave me to time to reflect on the enormity of what I’d done – being only the seventh woman in history to complete the journey solo, unsupported, from Hercules Inlet to the geographic South Pole. Instead of jumping into another trip, I allowed that to sink in, for it to become part of who I was. And now I’m ready for the next adventure.
A few hours later, I’d be called back to the hospital under the pretense my consultant had a cancellation. He sat me down and told me that I had a brain tumour. It was an acoustic neuroma (sometimes known as a vestibular schwannoma), a low grade, but in my case, uncharacteristically fast-growing, cystic tumour that was growing on the hearing and balance nerves within the confined space of my skull. This explained many of the symptoms I’d been experiencing recently, but not all.
I lost all of my hair at age 2, due to the autoimmune condition, Alopecia. It was extremely hard to navigate not knowing anyone else with my condition. I felt very alone and isolated. I began to wear a wig since I can remember to fit in with everyone else. I never truly felt like “me” but I didn’t know how to be ok with my Alopecia and the emotional roller coaster that was being bald. Kids were extremely mean to me and bullied me a lot for my wig and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes.
I don’t recall much about the call. It was a dead guy, or girl. I helped the coroner collect the body and went outside. It was night-time and the lights from our overheads were swirling in the darkness. I began speaking with another deputy, and suddenly became aware that I was seeing his face as he would look if he were dead. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just happened. It wasn’t as shocking as one might think. I blinked and even laughed to myself about it, but I couldn’t shake myself free from what I was seeing. It should have been a sign; I should have questioned what I was seeing, but I didn’t. My mind had begun to operate on its own. I should have questioned what was happening, but I didn’t. I told myself it must be a natural repercussion of seeing so many dead people. But it didn’t stop.
Written by Rachel wild I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my own father. Still feels like a taboo subject even currently. Therefore, it is so important for me to speak out. bravely... loudly... so everyone can hear. It was not my fault, sexual abuse is never the victim’s fault, but they carry it like it is.... they carry the shame and the guilt and the anger. The man who was meant to protect me from all evil in the world was the person who damaged me the most. Both parents were abusive physically and mentally, which I still struggle to understand as to how you can hurt your own child. I have been on an incredible journey and life has been made much harder because of this, however it has made me fight hard to do the right thing, it has made me resilient, it is developed my kindness and compassion. It also affects your ability to trust, I have nightmares, I have hyper independence as I have always had to do everything on my own. I went into care at 15, I got my own flat and three jobs at 16 and took myself to night college and studied to become a beauty therapist and Dental Nurse. I have always had a defiance, a drive, a determination to not let what has happened ruin me or use it as an excuse to behave poorly. I strive to do well in life, I have had so much stolen from me, I have a lot of life to live and make up for. I have slowly over the last two years started to process what has happened, I have felt incredible hot white rage, depression, panic, such sadness I have not wanted to go out, grief and loss of my childhood and all the things they stole from me. But I have grown as a person. I do not carry this secret alone, I feel empowered, calmer, more peaceful. It has given me kindness and compassion for myself. I want to help other survivors of sexual abuse, I want them to know life can be good, you can move forward you can heal. For me what has helped me heal, has been unburdening myself and sharing, reporting to the police, friends, support from counselling and specialist services, running, nature, mindfulness, meditation, and yoga and cheese and chocolate! Walking into the police station to report this was one of the most terrifying things I have ever done. What happens if they do not believe me? what happens if he comes and gets me and attacks me? what happens if other people attack me? I had the most incredible Detective, who listened whilst I told her some of the most intimate details of the abuse, feeling so ashamed. Not once did I feel judged, I felt listened to and cared for... and eventually so empowered. Not straight away, I felt exhausted after reporting, scared... I could see him everywhere. I had panic attacks, nightmares, I could not sleep... this lasted for about 12 months, and then eased slightly. It is normal to feel how you feel, it is important to acknowledge it and access help, the Independent Sexual Violence Advisor at the RASASC (Rape and sexual Assault Unit) probably saved my life, as did the support from my friends. If someone discloses abuse to you, be aware of the strength and vulnerability that it takes, you might be the first person they ever tell. It is so important to listen... just listen... please do not judge, please do not tell them how they should or should not feel. Just listen to them and do not interrupt, depending on the situation later ask them if they have ever spoken to anyone.... and would they like to talk to someone who deals with abuse/rape/assault like the RASASC unit. Just telling one person can start a domino effect on the path of healing. You do not have to report to the police, ringing an anonymous line, telling a friend, a counsellor, journaling can all start the process to you feeling lighter and getting on the road to peace and contentment. I reported sexual abuse by my father in 2018, he was being charged on the 15th of September and did not turn up to court. A warrant was issued for his arrest, he was found dead at home. Ten days earlier my Grandad died, he was my only family member so the past few years have been incredibly difficult. The last few months were so difficult, but also because my father is dead for the first time in my life, I feel safe. This will never go away for me, it will always have happened, so it is a life-long journey, it is part of who I am. Please do not tell survivors to put it behind them, forget about it, or move on, it is not that simple. Trauma is complex, I still have nightmares, I still think I see him, I still feel unsafe if out running and there is a man that looks like him. Even though my brain knows I am safe, my survival brain is trying to keep me safe. I have always been a very private person and kept things to myself. One of the things I have found most beneficial and helpful is talking to other survivors. I have always felt very alone and felt no-one understands (and I do not want anyone to have to experience this), especially with it being my own Father. The feelings I have had, and the experiences resonate with others and it has made me feel more understood, more normal almost. No two experiences are the same even if the circumstances are similar due to a multitude of factors, but there are some common denominators which have brought me comfort. The compassion, awe, and kindness I feel for other survivors, is something I have been able to start to apply to myself, which has been difficult. As a coping mechanism I downplayed, minimized, compared my situation, it is a survival technique that trauma victims use. This meant if I made it small it was not that bad, so therefore I did not have to deal with it. I am thankful for our incredible brains; I think it is fascinating how our brain protects us until we are ready to deal with a situation. Due to the abuse, I am a huge advocate of speaking out about abuse and rape and helping individuals to become empowered and hand the shame back to the abusers. I want to raise awareness so more people can speak out Bravely and be heard and supported and access the right help. I am working with RASASC (rape and sexual abuse Centre) this year to help provide training for the police and other agencies in how to help survivors. I am also going to train as an Independent Sexual Violence advisor, because how you are treated and supported is essential for the healing process. I also want to show people that with the right tools and support they can cope, they can have an amazing life....and that life can be great.
My sense of adventure and my love of sports started from a very early age. I grew up in a military family which meant we travelled the world as my Dad was posted from one country to another. I went to more than 15 different schools and lost count of the number of houses we lived in. For many children this is extremely daunting, but for some reason I loved it, I was always on an adventure.
I wrote this letter to articulate how the experience of post-traumatic growth has affected my life and through my own lived-experience, how my friend Pain was difficult to live with for many years. It also highlights how, pain must be present in our lives to experience the beautiful, the pure and the good. Life is a short and yet bittersweet journey, that to appreciate fully will require finding your strength that is forged from within.
It's something that I thought would never happen within my lifetime, I don’t think anyone would have thought the same. For one moment within that initial chaos, it became real that we were to put our lives on hold. Not just that, the whole of life was put on hold for everyone. So all these months later, what have we learned?......or have we? When it was first said it was only going to be 3 weeks in length but those few weeks turned into many months. For most people, everything within their life had to change. They then had to find a way to get through each day. But something I’ve realised that maybe many haven’t was in fact that, 2020 has been the biggest wake up call for humanity. So why would it be the biggest wake up call at all? What I’ve seen was how people had to adapt to this ‘New Normal’ but not just that, they had to find a way to live. I took every opportunity to build and learn. I wrote a book, started a podcast, built a business and expanded my network. But through this time, once again I often questioned a lot of what was happening. We saw a rise in celebrities carrying out morning workouts, focusing on using physical fitness to help us all put us in a positive mental headspace. For once, it seemed that all the things I had been using to help manage my mental health for years was being used to show people how effective it was. Same as going outdoors, exploring the mountains and hills, just to take time out in nature. So did it take a worldwide pandemic for people to actually get up and become active? It seems not just the power of exercise but also we saw, the canals of Venice crystal clear and the smog lifted from the Himalayas to finally see Everest. For once we could see the destruction we’ve done to this earth. But will it last? Absolutely not, it’s not that I’m pessimistic, definitely not. But I don’t have the greatest of faith in humanity at the best of times. Even though, I’ve consistently used my social media to promote positive mental health and for people to think for themselves so they can better themselves. A large majority of people will continue to carry on their usual routines ignorant of the destruction that we’re doing to this planet. Just think of that one piece of rubbish that was lingering in your hand, how powerful that is. Why you may ask, think of that one piece of rubbish, we’ve now got a choice. We can put it in our pocket and put it in a bin and let it be collected to be put in a landfill site to be covered with other millions of pieces of rubbish, slowly decomposing but working its way down to the water table. Or we can drop it with all the rest of the rubbish that another person has dropped, for it to collect and suffocate the seas, pollute the earth, choke innocent animals in their natural surroundings. The choice is yours, but one thing we need to do as a society is have a global rethink on how we protect this planet. Years ago, I came up with a recycling project that was cost effective and which would put an end to landfill sites. I was rejected by Councils and local authorities. It was simple in its approach, filling sealed Olympic sized swimming pool vats with rubbish using chemicals to break down the everyday household rubbish but leaving the materials that could be recycled. But not just that, at every level of the operation, there would be a filtration unit that would clear the rubbish in the chemicals, scrubbed and reused. The factory could be powered by green energy, reducing the carbon footprint. We are slowly choking and suffocating the earth and oceans with all the rubbish from products we consume. It’s a simple choice really, we concentrate on developing ourselves in subjects that are either intrinsically or extrinsically motivating depending on your needs Vs wants but we don’t spend enough time concentrating on how we can all improve the world around us. So whilst we’ve seen that level of self development rise and a large number of people have been intrinsically motivated to create and build a positive lifestyle, there are many that have jumped on the bandwagon and to join in this movement to escape the lockdown blues. So whilst we saw a large number of people out running, cycling, walking in the hills, using this excuse of “Because Boris said we can” what happened when the lockdown was lifted? Did they do it because it was a way to show some kind of compliance or rebellion? How many people actually changed their lifestyles or carried on post lockdown. Did they look at what they needed to become better instead of carrying on being full time members of the Netflix and Dominos club? So if Sir David Attenborough joining Instagram wasn’t enough to show the world that it needs change, that we as a population needs to open our eyes and see the destruction that we’re doing to our planet. Then I don’t know what will make people change. We as a population need to take our level of self accountability to a whole new level. 2020 has been an interesting year, one I hope we all learn from because if we don’t, then it’s only going to get more difficult. Now if I can create a business, write another book, start a podcast to get people talking more, having those important conversations and network on a higher level, then I can’t see why others can’t too. Globally, we’ve got the power to interact and connect to anyone at anytime. So let’s make a positive change, together we can make a change but let’s not carry on being politicians pawns on their global chessboard. If one person can create one positive action, just think of the possibilities of what millions can do?