Counselling and Psychotherapy. What’s it all about?
My first blog post is about what to expect if you’re thinking about accessing counselling and psychotherapy, because most clients that I see, when they book their first session, really have little to no idea what they are letting themselves in for.
Unless you know someone who has been to therapy, or who is a therapist themselves, you may not know what it is all about. Our main source of information often comes from the TV, or films and many examples we see on TV/film are about poor therapy, breaching of both the therapist’s and the client’s boundaries. They show situations where everything that could go wrong, does go wrong. The good news is that this is hype, designed to shock, garner a laugh, draw in the audience. It is not reality.
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My Boarding School Experience (Part 1)
Someone told me they’d be interested in reading about my experience of boarding school, so I was going to write a blog post about it. I say ‘going to’ like I didn’t write it. I did write it, but didn’t share it. I’m curious about that.
Boarding school is one of those things that is both easy, but also far from easy, to write about, talk about, think about, share with others. My memories are fragmented, they lack chronology, they lack feeling but also ooze feelings.
Maybe I’ll post it another day. Who knows?
My Boarding School Experience (Part 2)
Me and Boarding School
Part 1, a tale of NOT writing about my boarding school experiences, can be found here.
This post is published here with the caveat that this is my memory, that is neither linear nor particularly reliable, and that others who attended the same school, both within and without of my family may share similar memories and yet remember different details.
My Boarding School Experience (Part 3)
Boarding School Remembered
The School
In Therapy
“So what was it like for you, to join the group?”
I’m sat opposite my therapist of eight years, sat back in the armchair slightly angled away from hers, my hands on the arms of the chair, my fingers tracing the contours of the fabric, my feet firmly placed on the floor. The chair envelops me, and I look away.
