Moving to a different location, let alone a different time zone, has brought into sharp focus the daily interactions with friends and family, or lack there of. I often reach for my phone to share only to realise that ‘they’, my closest connections, are asleep on another continent. The people who would get my crappy joke (or at least pretend to find it vaguely amusing) or silly concerns are simply not available. It stirs up a sense of emptiness, reminiscent of when my Dad died. For months after I was struck by a daily reminder that he’d gone every time I went to call.

As a psychologist, these experiences underscore the profound human need to be seen, heard, and believed in by the people who know us. Often it isn’t the big gestures of support that are foundational so much as the tiny everyday occurrences. When this connection is lacking, it becomes glaringly apparent.