Lifestyle

H ow’s your detachment game? It might not be a question you’ve considered much, but if you’re someone who hoards your belongings, or clings onto flimsy items beyond repair, chances are it’s something you should urgently address. But this specific kind of detachment isn’t related to, say, holding onto one too many old birthday cards. Rather, it’s about friends.

Recently used by Meghan Markle ’s former BFF Jessica Mulroney , the phrase featured in a meme she posted on Instagram, which read: “As loving as I am, my detachment game is strong too.” The post set tails wagging among Markle’s fans and her haters, with both factions speculating it was in reference to the duo’s close friendship , which was said to have fallen apart after Mulroney found herself embroiled in a Black Lives Matter row.

In 2020, Mulroney – a stylist – engaged in a social media argument with a Black influencer, Sasha Exeter. After the two disagreed over one of Exeter’s Instagram posts supporting the Black Lives Matter movement, Exeter shared an 11-minute video on Instagram in which she claimed Mulroney “took offence” to “a very generic call to action”, resulting in a series of messages that left her “paralysed with fear”. Mulroney later issued a public apology in which she appeared to reference her friendship with Markle. “As I told you privately, I have lived a very public and personal experience with my closest friend where race was front and centre,” she wrote. “It was deeply educational. I learned a lot from that. I promise to continue to learn and listen on how I can use my privilege to elevate and support Black voices.”

Despite being firm friends with Markle going back to her time as an actor in Canada, and long before she met the Duke of Sussex, Mulroney and Markle have not been seen together since the former’s BLM controversy. Nonetheless, having good “detachment game” with friends – meaning being able to distance yourself from relationships that are no longer serving you – is a noble skill, and it’s one that has been increasingly spoken about among those writing and thinking about friendship.

“I think that we all need to practise getting better at friendship endings in order to destigmatise the idea of it,” says Elizabeth Day, host of the How to Fail podcast and author of the Sunday Times bestselling book, Friendaholic: Confessions of a Friendship Addict . “A friendship is never a failure simply because it ends. There’s this absurd notion that friendships have to last forever – even if the only reason the friendship exists in the first place is a haphazard circumstance – and that if they don’t, then we have somehow failed or we are somehow ‘bad’ friends.”

In fact, as Day advocates in her book, by getting better at detaching from friendships that no longer suit us, we start to exhibit a greater deal of self-respect that not only boosts our own lives but improves our other friendships. But all this is easier said than done, particularly if you’ve never “detached” from a long-term friendship before. For starters, how do you even recognise when it’s time to do it?

“Often it boils down to space: not having been given room to grow and change within the friendship,” explains Claire Cohen, author of BFF?: The Truth about Female Friendship . “Old friends can sometimes keep us in boxes and want us to remain the same as we always have been; that’s just not realistic and can lead to misunderstandings and a feeling of claustrophobia.”

If you don’t recognise this soon enough, that’s when a friendship can start to turn toxic. As for how to know if this is the case, Cohen suggests asking yourself how you feel whenever you see that friend. “Are you always emotionally drained by their company? Does everything have to be on their terms? Do they put you down or make you feel unable to share positive news? It can be hard to admit that these things are part of a long-term friendship – our shared histories can cover many cracks – but if you’re nodding your head to several of these things, it might be worth having a conversation with your friend.”

There may be other signs too, like clear violations and betrayals of your trust. But the more tacit signs are harder to spot, particularly if you’ve become accustomed to them over time. “If you don’t feel like you can be yourself around them, or find yourself cancelling on them repeatedly and feeling too busy to text them back, that might be a sign it’s time to move away, too,” adds psychologist Dr Madeleine Mason Roantree.

That said, referring to this as “detachment game” might not be the healthiest approach either. “It is not a clinical term, but I am guessing it refers to the position a person adopts where they attempt to be emotionally detached from a situation or person,” adds Dr Roantree. “Game implies some sort of control or power dynamic. This sounds laborious and tiring.”

Instead, it’s best simply to think of it in terms described by Day: moving away from friendships as an act of practicing self-respect; making better choices that reflect who you authentically are. A more appropriate phrase that is sometimes used is “a friendship break-up”.

“Part of the problem with friendship break-ups is that, as a society, we haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about them,” explains Day. “We’re all aware of how a romantic break-up goes and the vocabulary we can reach for and, in fact, romantic break-ups are very much accepted as part of normal character evolution and working out what we want in the long term. There isn’t the same language of ending for friendships, which leads to fear.”

As a result, we often end up saying things we don’t mean, or acting out as a result of guilt or resentment. In some cases, we might even ghost a friend, which is never going to benefit either of you. So, how do you go about doing it? “Ask yourself how you would want to be treated on the receiving end of a friendship break-up,” suggests Day. This could take the form of a real-life conversation, a phone call, or even a text. In some cases, things might have gone beyond the point of even needing to speak at all.

“I’ve now learnt that it’s far better to lead with loving clarity (a boundary doesn’t have to be cruel) and to send a text saying something like, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch as much as usual. I’m dealing with some things in my own life which means I can’t be the friend you need right now but I think of you with love and wish you nothing but the best’,” suggests Day.

What if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone else’s detachment and the feeling isn’t entirely mutual? Well, as it transpires, the same advice could apply. “If a friend has essentially dumped you, without giving you the opportunity to discuss the problem or respond, the only thing you can do is practice detachment yourself,” says Cohen.

“One of the things I recommend doing is to take back control of what might feel like an uncontrollable situation – that might mean writing a letter to them that you never send, or saying what you wish you could tell them out loud so you’re able to release your feelings and draw a line under the friendship, accepting that it’s over.”

Most importantly, though, show yourself kindness and compassion, particularly if you find yourself ruminating over all of the reasons why someone might have detached from you. “It can be hard to break out of a cycle of blame,” adds Cohen. “But to detach, you need to accept that the friendship clearly wasn’t what you thought and that if they weren’t able to communicate honestly with you about ending it, you’re best off moving on to new friends.”

“I think there’s an explorer in everyone — we just all have to find our own Everest,” says Belinda Kirk, the exploration pioneer with an extraordinary list of personal achievements. She’s walked across Nicaragua, searched for camels in China’s “Desert of Death”, and was part of the first female crew to row non-stop around Britain (covering 2,101 miles in 51 days).

But for Kirk (above), the important thing is not necessarily trying to do something dazzling, it’s more about encouraging others to do anything that connects them to nature and adventure. Her projects, Explorers Connect and the Wild Night Out, have made a life mission of doing just that.

“I worry that our society is not set up for adventures,” she says. “I’ve realised that we are very disconnected in the modern world from nature and challenge.”

The trailblazer, who had a successful TV job as a producer and director working alongside the likes of Ray Mears, Bear Grylls and David Attenborough, eventually quit her career and dedicated herself to getting people to take that first step. She’s driven by her own transformation.

“When I was 18, I went to Tanzania to study monkeys,” she says. “After that, I travelled all around Africa on my own, and my whole heart and mind just opened. I did things I’d never believed I could have done. It gave me enormous strength. You realise the possibilities of the world. I think that’s the power of adventure, and your most important expedition is always the first one.”

You don’t need to travel to faraway places, at great expense, to reap the physical and mental rewards, Kirk says.

“When I set up Explorers Connect in 2009, it was a hub to connect people who wanted to go on expeditions,” she says. “But I noticed that people kept asking for smaller adventures in between the big stuff. They’d want to do a weekend, or even a day trip.

“I realised that by trying little adventures, you can start something. We don’t all have lots of time and money, or the right skills, to do the big things. You have to start small, and find a way to connect with nature. I’d find people would come on our weekends and they’d end up changing their outlook, their job, their lifestyle. It was great.”

What’s more, she says, it’s all available on our doorstep — “this country is amazing,” she says.

Through her work, Kirk, whose thirst for a more fulfilling life has put her on the San Miguel Rich List, has seen some dramatic transformations first hand. “I realised that making a difference was what really mattered to me,” she says. “I ran expeditions for young people and those with disabilities, and it gave me more satisfaction than winning Baftas for my TV work.”

After observing a number of wondrous moments on these expeditions, Wild Night Out (wildnightout.org) — held this year on 1 July — was born. “The idea is a national day of adventure to get people taking an outdoor challenge, no matter how big or small,” says Kirk. “It could be camping in your back garden with your kids for the first time, going on a nice easy hike, trying kayaking or climbing for the first time — or going for a world record!

“You want to take risks, not something dangerous, but just something that gives you a push. It’s about doing something you might not get round to otherwise.”

Meanwhile Kirk is as active as ever. “I’m in the middle of finishing a book, planning a trip swimming with seals, and we’re moving to Exmoor, where I’m hoping to set up an adventure hub,” she adds. That’s hardly a surprise. What is surprising is how easy it is to join in yourself.

Sasha Exeter , the influencer involved in a feud with Jessica Mulroney , has returned to Instagram to share a post about wanting to protect her daughter and niece from “a world that can be not kind”.

Earlier this month, the lifestyle blogger accused Mulroney of exhibiting “textbook white privilege” after a disagreement over one of Exeter’s Instagram posts supporting the Black Lives Matter movement.

In an 11-minute video, Exeter said that Mulroney, who is friends with the Duchess of Sussex, “took offence” to “a very generic call to action”.

”What happened next was a series of very problematic behaviour and antics that ultimately resulted in [Mulroney] sending me a threat in writing last Wednesday 3 June,” Exeter continued.

Following the incident, Mulroney was fired from her role as a fashion stylist and dropped from numerous other jobs.

On Tuesday, Exeter returned to Instagram with her first post since the row, sharing a photo of her daughter Maxwell and her niece.

“So much love in this photo. So much innocence. Purity. It’s almost as disarming as their beauty,” Exeter captioned the picture. “As a mother (and aunt), I want so badly to protect them and their innocence. To shield them from a world that can be…well, you know…not kind sometimes.”

In the post, the influencer also said she wants to raise a daughter who is comfortable in her own skin and “knows black is beautiful.”

“I want to raise a daughter who knows herself because she knows where she came from,” she wrote. “I want her to be comfortable in her own skin because she understands and knows black is beautiful.

“But most importantly, I want her to forever have these innocent eyes and bright smile as she navigates the world.”

Mulroney issued a public apology on Instagram on 11 June, in which she said Exeter “rightfully called me out for not doing enough when it came to engaging in the important and difficult conversation around race and injustice in our society”.

She also used the apology to explain that she plans to take some time away from social media to “reflect, learn and listen”.

“I have also asked Sasha if she would be willing to take over my account whenever she is comfortable and tell her story,” she continued, adding: “The real work of bringing change goes beyond Instagram, and I want you all to know that I am committed to using every platform and resource available to me to continue the important work of anti-racism.”

DANCE versions of novels and plays are staple repertoire, but until now no choreographer has attempted to use dance to tell a story made famous by film, borrowing not just its plot and characters, but the nature of film itself. Even allowing for the suggestive properties of music, lighting and costume, it’s a tall order.

But the Danish dance-maker Kim Brandstrup loves a challenge. With Arc Dance Company he’s tackled Shakespearean tragedy and Greek myth. Both won awards. Now he has turned his narrative talents to film noir, the crime thrillers of the Forties and Fifties which so consummately matched their literary originals that you can’t read a Raymond Chandler mystery without seeing their shadowy sets and hearing their shivery soundtrack. In Crime Fictions, which opened at Sadler’s Wells on Tuesday, Brandstrup seeks out the essence of 101 whodunnits and rolls them into one generic plot. The only character missing is the detective. It’s the audience which has to do Bogey’s work.

The curtain rises on Craig Givins’s glitzy penthouse set. A huddled group stares at the floor. The head of the household has been shot. As the group pulls away, we zoom in on a corpse splayed across a short flight of stairs. Later, as events leading up to the murder are replayed, we keep noticing those stairs. Characters tumble over them, or crawl, or fall, or cartwheel. They never merely step. As in the movies, one innocent physical feature becomes a prominent reminder of someone’s guilty secret. But whose?

Every one of the characters harbours some grudge against the victim: the daughter, usurped in Daddy’s affections by his new young wife; the two sons, sexually upstaged; the daughter-in-law, disinherited; the maid, harassed by the boss; her lover, the butler, enraged. Even the glamorous wife, stiffly encased in Dior cocktail suits, seems sulkily dissatisfied.

Clues are offered in dance-code through a series of encounters which, in the best cinematic tradition, have the spectators’ eyes on stalks. Dangerous high lifts and stylised jaw-slugs chart the breakdown of filial respect; nimble frog-jumps and balletic spins mark out the sons as virile contenders for their pretty stepmother; the servants’ duet reveals passion, servility, and at least one duplicitous nature. The patriarch’s obsessive concern for his wife – is she too hot or too cold? Does she want the jacket on or off? – is deftly woven into a smooching connubial tango.

Brandstrup drives the action with panache, if not always crystal clarity. There is a problem in identifying the characters early enough so that important detail doesn’t pass unheeded. But by half-time the audience has caught up with the plot, and the double denouement – what actually happened, followed by the accepted lie of what happened – is beautifully worked through. More crucially, the show delivers razor-sharp dancing throughout, and set-pieces so grippingly eloquent and inventive that finally it doesn’t matter who did the murder. What matters is that someone very clever did the dance.

Over at the bare black box that is The Place, more distinctive work opened the “Spring Loaded” season, the annual catalogue of independent British dance-makers already on their way to making a name. Aletta Collins immediately sets herself apart from the mass of Siobhan Davies acolytes by her sparky sense of fun. How often one sees dance described as “witty”. But Collins has a true comic gift and an eye for quirky casting. Who else could find a Rowan Atkinson and an Incredible Hulk and get them both to dance like Fred Astaire?

On Wednesday she presented Che Gelida Manina (“Your tiny hand is frozen”), a sequence of vignettes set in a shared flat where the inmates listen to Puccini (of course) while squabbling over the single-bar electric fire, prompting toppling towers of bodies piled on one kitchen chair. Constant flirtations and rejections keep the household on emotional hot coals, culminating in one couple’s breakfast-time row during which the other flatmates perform an embarrassed routine on tiptoe with boiled eggs stuck under their shoes. Their relief when the pair kiss and make up is finely balanced by the satisfying sound of crunched shells as they rock back on their heels. Watch out for Aletta Collins. Dance needn’t be serious to be seriously good.

Arc Dance: Edinburgh Festival Theatre (0131 529 6000), Wed & Thurs. ‘Spring Loaded’: The Place, WC1 (0171 387 0031), to May.