My therapist listened carefully to my description of an evening at the theatre with my friend. This friend often tells me she loves me, and I think she means it. Sort of. Continue reading ‘Why Are You Friends With Her?’
OK so I was dismissive of some of what my therapist says and does. But I know full well that we can accidentally let things slip with our choice of words, and that we can project and deflect and blame shift and all those things. Continue reading Truth Can Seep Out
The problem with being old – or as old as I am – is that there’s an overabundance of memories.
At the end of the session, I was mindful of the fact that my therapist had on a previous occasion commented that I would often still be speaking as I rose from my seat after she said ‘we have to stop now.’ Continue reading I Must be Mad
I can’t, and I don’t seem to want to. For a while perhaps I thought my husband would do that for me. I abdicated that responsibility, if I ever held it. Maybe briefly. Before that it was my dad, I suppose. And before that, I can only assume, my mother, when it was just a case of nappy changing and so on. Continue reading Waaah! I Can’t Look After Myself!
Things are not right. Continue reading If You Don’t Know How You Feel, Do You Feel It?
Somewhat delayed in any case, then pacing up and down waiting to go into the tube, I was on the phone to a friend who had asked for help. Another friend had recommended a women’s circle, and I was going to give it a go. Inauspicious start: my friendly email had bounced back and there seemed no other means of contacting the organisers, so although the website said just turn up, I was now afraid that after a long day and a delayed start, the lengthy commute could very possibly end in failure. Continue reading Finding A Women’s Circle