A few shots I took in Kyoto that remind me of a time and place where I felt pure, rare serenity. Lately I’ve been thinking about why, on a personal level, that kind of peace feels so hard to find (aside from the fact that the news is relentlessly bleak most days).

A close, supportive friend recently made me realise that a stretch of past physical illness might have left me with some unaddressed PTSD. Pair that with societal and generational pressure on men to stay closed off, and you get some tricky, suppressed feelings and thoughts.

It’s often that I want to express things better (or at all), I just don’t know how. But now I’ve actively started working on that.

I’ve also come to recognise that I often mask my own challenges by trying to solve those of others. I like supporting and helping other people on a larger scale, but on a more personal level when it comes to supporting people close to you, it’s easy to lose sight of your own needs when you have to do that constantly or, more often the case, there is imbalance in what you receive in return.

I’m a positive and optimistic person so I’ll let all this new awareness strengthen me, not weigh me down.

I want to make space for those who take an interest in my life, not just an audience for theirs, and avoid those who expect support but offer little of the same in return. I’ll keep supporting others, but I’ll also start showing that same care to myself.

Maybe with this clarity I can find that same peace and serenity again, without having to travel 6,000 miles to do it. Still, with sights as beautiful as those in Kyoto, I’d happily take any excuse to return.