She’s sitting on the precipice Of everything She never allowed Everything she could still be. Perfectly pulchritudinous In who she already is. She likens staying to being An ascetic And, in her resolve to leave She rolls her reluctant tears into a tissue Folding them away, Filling the cup’s inevitable emptiness. The keeper Of tears.
I don’t think you can plan a life. I became a psychologist by mistake. I had actually planned to be an artist of sorts. Maybe, in some ways, I still am an artist. I hope so. What I do requires the ability to spontaneously respond to each person’s struggles, authentically. That’s surely done best when seen as an art form? […]
When clients first call to make an appointment, it is impossible to summarise an answer to “What therapy do you do?” You can never actually tell what journey lies ahead of them or I. I can, however, remember the first call that Claudia made to enquire about therapy. I can’t recall her exact words but they sounded almost rehearsed, attempting […]
I was sitting with a 91 year old man yesterday morning. He tried to eat his breakfast as his wife kept pampering him, reminding him to tuck his serviette into his collar. “Here my darling, let me do it, it just keeps falling out and you’re going to ruin your clean shirt.” His long body had begun to stoop like […]
As they arrive at my consultation room, I usher them to the therapy couch. It is just wide enough for them to sit comfortably apart but not wide enough for them to avoid each other. If she wanted she could simply turn the other way and look through my books on the bookshelf, while he reads the quote on the wall […]
Enter the labyrinth. The crunch of stones beneath my feet. The chime of wind in the trees. A canvas, calling me away from my own neurotic tale. Stories upon stories turning their pages through the stillness of the morning. I turn, only to meet myself again. A young man on a padded matt, tying knots in himself, anxious to become […]