Last week, I had to say goodbye to a huge piece of my heart. My cat Misha, a gentle, sweet and loving presence in my life for almost 15 years, became very sick overnight and was taken from me in less than a day. Misha was not only a pet but a friend – the purest, most unconditional source of love in my life. I’m fortunate to have many people in my life that I love and who love me; yet like all relationships, these aren’t without stress and angst. In what has been, personally and professionally, the hardest year of my life it was a greater comfort than I can put into words to have someone waiting for me at home from whom I received nothing but unequivocal affection.

Misha and I were inseparable and my ex-boyfriend would always shake his head at us in bemusement; whether I was snuggled up with her on the bed, trailing her behind me as I walked around the house, or absent-mindedly playing with her paws while immersed in work, “You and that cat”, he’d say. It was a joke between us that if I had to choose between him and the cat, the choice would be a no-brainer – I once presented him with this picture I found online and though we laughed, we concurred that it probably wasn’t far from the truth:

I’m bereft of her sweet and gentle personality that seemed unique among her sort, who are typically feisty and scrappy. Despite the inordinate amount of fuss I made over her, she never once scratched me – or anyone else, for that matter – in all her life. She would tolerate all antics patiently and if they got too overbearing, she would eventually just squirm away rather than put up a fight. We would laugh when we heard storied about cats chasing off bears or attacking burglars – I often saw her fleeing from birds or looking highly alarmed when the doorbell sounded. She was the very definition of a scaredy-cat. Just like me, she was a girly-girl and loved her accessories; every time I brought home a new collar she’d sit still and purr as I took it out of the packaging and fastened it on her, and I’d often find her curled up with one of my handbags or a pretty scarf. Her diminutive personality was pronounced by her inability to meow properly; she was known for her characteristic squeak, which she’d emanate with all her might especially when she was happy. Every day when I came home she’d jump up to wherever I sat, kneading, purring and squeaking away.

When I cried, she would appear by my side in moments, and show me so much concern and affection that I had to stop – my sadness this week has been painfully acute and lonely because I know she isn’t coming to slow my tears. In past moments of abject grief and bereavement, I have often resorted to guilt: typically regrets, or lost opportunities to show someone how much I cared for them. With Misha, there was never a moment that I didn’t shower her with love, whilst painfully conscious of my fear of losing her one day. I knew this day would come and I was terrified of it – but at the very least, I can be certain that I never took her for granted and believe that she always knew how much I adored her.

The depth of my grief is something I’ve tried to keep to myself this week as I went about business as usual. As absurd as it sounds, I “scheduled” my bereavement for the weekend simply because I couldn’t expect my peers to indulge my loss on their time. Meanwhile, I developed a questionable and probably unhealthy attachment to my phone case – I don’t know whether this was because it looks like a cat, or because when I got it the week previously, Misha immediately cuddled up with it and went to sleep.

In spite of my attempts to keep my feelings private, I was overwhelmed by the support I’ve been shown by family, friends and colleagues who understood and respected my attachment to, as someone aptly put it, “my special friend”. It’s been an immeasurable comfort to hear from those who knew and loved Misha too, and others who relate or simply are sad for my loss. Someone said to me, “There’s a hole in your heart that will never go away; but you’ll learn to live with it.” Not a single person has belittled my grief and perhaps it was unfair of me to expect that of anyone. As I sit here by myself on the sofa I feel the void beside me and miss her desperately, but also I know how lucky I am to have had her in my life, as well as so many caring people who are there in times of need. This is a theme of BE One that I’ve always appreciated, and that’s why I wanted to share it here – but also because I wanted to put something out there that would preserve, for posterity, such a small being that gave me so much love and joy. Thank you for being mine, my dear, sweet, Misha, and for letting me be yours – I will adore you forever.

How many of us have been in the position where we’ve felt like we had to make excuses for our appearance? In my opinion, it takes a pretty confident individual to leave the house feeling far from their best and just not care what anyone might think about how he/she looks. There have been countless times when I’ve felt mortified about running into someone I know and muttered some explanation for my lackluster appearance – perhaps you can relate.

Now imagine that scenario again, but this time under the intense, unforgiving and gleeful scrutiny of the media whose idea of a headline is your Bad Face Day; then imagine this circus turning into a character assassination, condemning your lifestyle choices and the underlying moral implications of your credibility as a human being and role model.

Thankfully, this isn’t something most of us have to deal with on a daily basis – but we are all too familiar with it. We may be so used to it that we are desensitized to it and, even worse, we may even participate in it. It is so easy to critique the appearance of someone in the public eye that we can entirely overlook the fact that we are involved in shaping and perpetuating the media-endorsed standards we impose not only on celebrities, but on one another, on ourselves. How has it become OK to tear someone apart based on their appearance, and what does this say about us?

Ashley Judd wants to know the same thing. I remember hearing something recently about the actress’ “puffy face” – I noticed, in passing, enough headlines  to register some outrage over an apparently offensive change in her appearance, but I didn’t give it a second thought at the time. As it turns out, Ms Judd’s face created enough of a phenomenon to prompt an unexpected response: a supremely measured, articulate, and quite frankly, kick-ass piece of feminist literature. Being put in a position where she felt obliged to justify her weight gain (a sedentary lifestyle and steroid medication will do that to a girl, I can tell ya), she goes on to counter-analyze the culture that so viscerally analyzed her appearance.

Whereas I’d previously felt quite indifferently towards Ashley Judd the actress, I’m now pretty much in awe of Ashley Judd the feminist icon and humanitarian activist (who knew? I didn’t, ’til it came to light after she had to publicly defend, um, her face). It would be a travesty for this to be just another headline that we vaguely recall having seen one time – it is such a vital dialogue in a society where media reinforces perceptions of humanity based too often not on what people do, but what they look like. Please do read Ashley Judd’s full essay here.

For months now, I’ve accumulated half-written posts that I abandoned because they didn’t seem inspiring, hopeful or positive enough to share on BE One. This community is so full of strong, beautiful people and I have profound respect for those who manage to retain a soundness of mind and soul during what is a rocky time for so many. I confess that I feared trivialising their many meaningful contributions with something that might seem trite or jaded, and I’ve struggled to find within me something uplifting that I could share. But, I realised, being a part of BE can itself be an exercise in catharsis – writing is one of the few things that consistently gives me joy, and I’m unfailingly inspired by the network of support and wisdom to be found here. So for what it’s worth, this is some of my best advice; I often forget to take it myself, but it might help me in future to have written it down…

• Believe in the best outcome. I’ve had people try to tell me that this is delusional, but the power of positivity isn’t that far-fetched. By improving your outlook, you will have greater self-confidence and make better choices. Don’t believe naysayers, and don’t take no for an answer. If you feel it’s right, then it will be – whether now, or eventually. This can be a hard state of mind to maintain when you’ve had a few knocks, but it really makes a difference.

• Dream BIG, and believe that anything is possible. Most importantly, believe in yourself and your ability to achieve anything that you want enough. If someone had told me what a rough time I was letting myself in for when I made a major decision to follow my heart, I’d like to think that I would have stuck to my guns… but at least been better prepared. As they say, nothing that’s worth having comes easy; but even that wisdom may belie the true, stark reality of the road to personal success and self-fulfillment.

• Be confident in what you have to offer. I work daily with entrepreneurs who are building labours of love from the ground up. It’s inspiring and heartening to witness even those who fail, just to see the passion and enthusiasm they have for their work. I like to say that in the absence of opportunities that characterises the current climate, you may as well go for broke. Unfortunately, this is often quite literally the case – but in another sense, this is also a chance to create your own opportunities.

• Don’t be afraid to work with what you’ve got. I’ll be the last person to ever tell you that you can’t achieve everything you want to – but from my own experience, I think there’s a level of optimum productivity that doesn’t involve pushing yourself as far as you can possibly go. Can you go that far? Certainly. Will you be happy? Unlikely. At this level of awareness, we can function at our best – we’re not over-stretched, and can work on our strengths rather than over-achieving just for the sake of it.

• “We are the sum of the five people we spend the most time with.” I can’t know if this is true, but I can stress the importance of being around people who inspire you to be better. Not just professionally, but personally. If you’re sound of spirit and clear of mind and conscience, you’re much more likely to be successful in your pursuits. Speak to people who have already traveled the road you’re on – as confident as you are that you know what you’re doing, you can’t possibly have the unique wisdom that can only be gained from experience. You can be a good and diligent student by presuming to know nothing – be open to every experience and lesson that can broaden your skillset and your mindset.

• Be a good person, keep your affairs private and be careful who you let in. Do be aware that other people may try to manipulate you for their own gain but don’t try to get ahead at someone else’s expense, because at some point that will be you. Being a schemer isn’t the only way to be in the game – you may be playing a longer game, but trust that in the end, it’ll come good (so to speak)… and there will be many more people willing to help you when you get there.

• “There are no regrets in life; just lessons.” Taking a lesson from an experience sometimes isn’t possible immediately – but as long as you don’t shut yourself off from the possibilities, it will come to you eventually. By my own nature I’m impatient and easily frustrated, and when I want something I want it RIGHT NOW – so this has sort of been a lesson in itself. I’m learning the virtue of applying patience to personal development, and the overall experience has been a valuable one.

And if all else fails – listen to Steve Jobs:

…and if that fails? Do as Elizabeth Taylor said: