Learning to Embrace

11 September 2025 • Bianca Borrello

Long-haul flights are not something I do often. There is something about them that feels different though. The novelty of tiny meals wrapped in plastic, the stack of movies you will never watch, the headphones in their little bags that never quite fit.

This time I was travelling alone, which as a single mum of two little girls felt rare and almost indulgent. A chance to just be with myself.

At the gate came the announcement of a delay. Seven hundred people shifting and sighing in the queue. By the time we boarded, we learnt the real story. The original plane was faulty and we had been moved onto a substitute. That meant reshuffled seats, scattered families, irritation simmering through the cabin.

As a solo traveller, it barely touched me. But for those around me, the impact was clear.

On one side of me sat an eighty-year-old Nigerian man in a three-piece suit, separated from his granddaughters. His frustration came out as anger, sharp and unrelenting. This isn’t how it should be, I can’t travel alone. On the other side sat a French-Arab mother of three teenagers, suddenly apart from them all. Her energy was frantic. Bags misplaced, questions unanswered, her worry about her children filling the space between us.

Both were placed in my row. Both unsettled. Both carrying their emotions like heavy luggage.

The man folded his arms, shoulders stiff with resistance and tech fears. She leaned into her caregiving instincts, nudging us to fasten seatbelts, asking where we were from, trying to create some sense of order. The only problem was language. She spoke no English. He spoke no French or Arabic.

And me. By chance, I spoke all three. So I became the translator.

Over the course of eight hours, I watched something shift.

The man, once rigid with defiance, allowed her to guide him. She showed him how to use the TV, helped him settle under a blanket, and his edges began to soften. He realised he did not have to navigate this flight alone. She, freed from the constant pull of motherhood, allowed herself to simply be. For once she was not responsible for anyone. She was simply a woman, sitting in her own space, tasting a rare kind of freedom.

By the middle of the flight, they were watching the same film in different languages. Laughing at the same moments. Nudging each other at the funny parts. Raising his cognac and her orange juice in a quiet toast.

And I sat there in awe.

Because life rarely unfolds the way we plan it. We cling to our expectations, and when they are disrupted, it is natural to meet the unknown with frustration, fear, or resistance.

But sometimes, if we lean into the discomfort, something else happens. A story we never expected begins to emerge, one filled with softness, connection, even beauty.

That day, it looked like two strangers learning to share the journey. And for me, the reminder was simple: sometimes the only way forward is to learn to embrace.

And that’s what therapy so often feels like too — a space where the unexpected rises, where old patterns loosen, and where connection creates the possibility of change. If you’re navigating ADHD, autism, anxiety, depression, trauma, or life changes, I offer counselling in Manchester, Wilmslow, and online. Together we can explore the unexpected parts of your story, and find ways to embrace them with more compassion.