Well, this is a surprise!

Harriet Minter likes to know what’s coming, so warbling ‘que sera, sera’ and waiting for the story to unfold is a big ask. This time, however, she’s not in charge

There was a time, in my early teens, when I was obsessed with those ‘choose your own adventure’ books. At the end of each chapter, you had a choice of what happens next, with each taking you down a different path to a different ending. Instead of working through the book as I was supposed to, I would look at the endings and choose the one I felt was most interesting. Then I would work backwards to ensure my characters got the ending I felt they deserved. I wanted to control how things would turn out and this is still my preferred way of operating.

But, the older I get, the more I learn that the world refuses to let me control it. Most of the time, I am in the grey area, a place where multiple options exist and there is no fixed answer. I wait for the solution to reveal itself and panic when it does not. Sometimes, I try to force the situation to a close: quit a job rather than hold out for a promotion, leave a relationship rather than work through our issues, and turn my back on a project rather than live with the fear that it might not work out.

The past year has been all about embracing no control. The more I have tried to find certainty, through science, faith and Google, the more it has evaded me. I’ve tried to find ways to sit in the grey area and let myself be OK with not knowing what will happen. When that has been tough, a few key tricks have let me sit in the uncomfortable murky unknown and still be OK. The first has been the release, then joy, of a big old cry. It might not seem like a productive way to deal with a crisis, but that’s the point. Crying is an acknowledgment of how I feel. I waste so much energy pretending to be OK when I’m not – but a weep and a wail frees me from that and, gosh, it’s a good feeling. I’ve also had to stop making up stories and go back to the facts. I’ve learned that when I feel unsure about what might happen, I try to predict the outcome. But I exaggerate the stories, imagine the worst possible ending and then try to prevent it. If you do this too, try a different story. Ask: What is the best thing that could happen? When I’m telling this story to my grandchildren, how will I make it funny? Where is the lesson in this experience? See if these questions change how you feel. I have also grown used to doing nothing. I don’t mean numbing myself to what’s happening in the world, as tempting as a 48-hour Netflix binge may be, but challenging myself to sit with the ‘what might be’ and simply notice it, rather than try to fix or force it. How does your body feel when you think about a future you do not know? Can you inhale deeply and let your breath calm you? Can you imagine someone sitting with you, soothing you? You should find that as your body calms, so does your mind. And, when your mind is calm, the grey dissipates and you start to see the colour in life again.

After belonging to Narcotics Anonymous for years, do you think that you are more in tune with other people?

AI think I’ve become more intuitive – for example recognising when someone needs a phone call, because I’ve been carried a lot in my life by other people. Sara Cox and I knew each other professionally, but we weren’t great friends at the time – we are now! Her text was out of the norm, so I called her and we had a great chat.

I also always thought my granny was psychic, but she was just brilliant at reading people and, as I’m getting older, I’m getting better at it too. Even when she had dementia and came to live with us, she was the opposite of lucid, but I had to warn the carers not to lie to her about how they were feeling, because she would know!

AWhy did you recommend coaching to Sara?

Coach Michael Heppell is a good friend of mine