When I worked as a communications and PR manager, I once sat in a session led by our global director. The session was meant to sharpen our communication skills and executive presence especially during tough conversations.
In the middle of all the frameworks and feedback, he dropped one line that’s stayed with me ever since:
“Replace but with and.”
I thought it was just a clever communication trick and a smoother way to disagree in tough discussions at work, but later on, as I started to use it, it began to shift something else—not just how I spoke, but how I thought. It gave me a new lens and a way to see myself without edits.
I remember when I first started applying this concept in my personal life. I was in Munich, and I felt entirely overwhelmed by the oppressive weather, as well as the distance from home, which was weighing on me. I found myself questioning everything, you know, that 'Did I make the right decision moving here ? ' thoughts. I started resenting the move, wondering if I had made the wrong decision because the trade-offs felt heavier than the benefits. I missed the ease of home deeply. The joy of convenience, of structure, of new experiences was beginning to feel hollow.
I started thinking—is it possible that the reasons I chose to come here are still valid? That the discomfort does not have to cancel out the purpose? That I can acknowledge the parts I don’t like AND still honor the parts that have helped me grow?
I was still in distress, but slowly, I realized that maybe my ache of belonging didn’t mean I did not belong. It simply meant I belonged in more than one place.
Why must I choose when I can fully embrace both?
When I started feeling overwhelmed by being in a place that put me in survival mode—not speaking the local language, nurturing a marriage, and chasing purpose in a space where people couldn't even pronounce my name—my first instinct was to choose. To find fault with this place. To prove myself loyal to another and pick a side, be all in, and show my loyalty to one world by minimizing my connection to the world I was struggling to create .
Then the AND concept would bubble up :
How would it feel if I did not have to choose? What would it look like to hold space for both tensions and embrace the dissonance—not as a defect, but as a design?
I did not need to disown one truth to honor another.
I wrote once about designing a multicontinental life like an app. Not a glitchy, patchwork workaround but something intentional, expansive.
A version of life where:
You can lead a high-stakes board meeting in Brussels AND light candles for your ancestors in Accra.
You can lose your job unexpectedly AND still feel grateful for the rest and reset.
You can build wealth through a global tech career in Singapore AND still crave the warmth of Lagos laughter over Jollof.
You can design a legacy rooted in diaspora excellence AND still wrestle with guilt about your kids not knowing your mother tongue.
Not at the same time or in equal measure but in a way that no longer demands your silence, sacrifice, or singularity.
The more I let go of the binary, the more peace I found. The more I said 'AND' instead of 'BUT,' the more space I created for my whole self to breathe.
I gave myself permission to hold space for everything I want—and not hold myself, hostage, to options I quietly resent.
So, if you are in that in-between season( career or relationship )—between countries, between decisions, between versions of yourself—Here is something to chew on :
Can you carry the tension, the questions, the in-betweens—AND still be at peace .
With love,
Ntokozo