Nothing beats diving into the icy deep end

I read into things. I over-analyse. I deconstruct. I drive me mad - so goodness knows what I do to the patience and tolerance of those around me.

I have been told not to stress, to chill, to relax, to chillax. I am told to just stop. To take things on face value. To trust. To just see things for what they are - as opposed to what they could / should / might / may / may not / couldn't possibly be.

I'm big enough to concede such a character flaw - and in some ways it has served me well in this ever-questioning, ever-cynical career that is journalism.

I respond well to the cut and dried. Just the facts. Structure. Black and white. But see, the thing is, life just isn't quite like that, is it?

It's all stunning hues of grey - melding, bleeding and weaving together to make a stunning portrait of that which makes life wonderful.

It's the feeling. It's the emotion and what a friend of mine calls the "white-knuckle journey". What lies ahead? Who knows?

But thinking it into being doesn't actually work. Similarly, thinking something away doesn't work either.

If I have learnt one thing along life's journey to date, it's that whatever you think into a situation, the only way to get through it is to plunge head-long into it, like diving into the deep end of a swimming pool in the middle of winter.

Every single time, you think the shock will kill you. You think you will emerge shivering and gasping for air, choking and coughing.

But instead, you emerge from the water with a lick of icy cold water all over your face, you draw in a long warm breath and you see things with a renewed - almost over-exposed - clarity. You're smarting, but you're renewed.

That stuff doesn't come from thinking it through, rethinking, analysing and then processing it.