Why Being a “Good Enough” Parent Is Actually Great Parenting

If you have ever opened your phone to check one headline and somehow resurfaced 45 minutes later feeling tense, worried, and slightly doom-soaked, you are not alone. Recent global events, including military tensions such as the attack on Iran, can stir up a lot of emotion. Even when events are happening far away, our nervous systems do not always recognise distance. They simply register “threat” and switch on. As a counsellor, I have noticed more clients saying things like: “I feel on edge and I do not know why.” “I keep checking for updates.” “I feel guilty for carrying on with normal life.” “What if this escalates?” If that sounds familiar, take a breath. Nothing is wrong with you. You are responding like a human in an interconnected world. Here are some light but practical ways to stay grounded when global events feel heavy. 1. Create a News Container Instead of letting the news drip into your day at random, put it in a container. That might look like: Checking updates once in the morning and once in the evening Turning off push notifications Avoiding news scrolling in bed Your brain handles information better when it knows there is a boundary. Constant exposure keeps your nervous system on standby mode. A scheduled check-in gives you information without letting it take over. Think of it as sipping from the fire hose rather than standing underneath it. 2. Do a 60-Second Reality Check When anxiety spikes, pause and ask: Am I personally in immediate danger right now? Where am I? What can I see around me? Often, the answer is that you are at home, at work, or sitting with a cup of tea. Your body may feel like it is in crisis, but your environment is stable. This tiny grounding moment helps your nervous system recalibrate. 3. Move Your Body to Move the Stress Anxiety is energy. If it stays stuck, it turns into tension. You do not need a full workout. Try: A brisk 10-minute walk Stretching your shoulders and neck Shaking out your arms and legs Taking three slow, deliberate breaths Physical movement tells your brain, “I am safe enough to move.” That message matters. 4. Swap Doom Scrolling for Purpose Scrolling If you feel helpless, your brain will look for more information. Instead, gently redirect it. You could: Read about humanitarian aid efforts Donate to a trusted organisation Have a thoughtful conversation instead of an argument Write down one small action that reflects your values Anxiety shrinks when we reconnect with agency. You cannot solve global conflict, but you can choose how you show up in your own community. 5. Keep Living Your Ordinary Life One of the quiet tricks of anxiety is convincing you that joy is inappropriate when the world is struggling. It is not. You are allowed to: Laugh at a silly video Cook your favourite meal Plan a holiday Enjoy time with people you care about Caring about the world and enjoying your own life are not opposites. They can exist side by side. 6. Notice When It Is Becoming Too Much If you are struggling to sleep, constantly checking headlines, feeling panicky, or finding that your thoughts are stuck on worst-case scenarios, that is a sign to slow things down. Talking to friends, family, or even a counsellor can help you separate healthy concern from spiralling anxiety. Sometimes the most powerful step is simply saying out loud, “I am finding this hard.” A Gentle Reminder You are not responsible for holding the weight of global events on your shoulders. You are responsible for caring for your nervous system, your relationships, and your wellbeing. When you stay steady, you contribute something meaningful to the world: a regulated, thoughtful, compassionate human being. And that truly does matter.

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As a counsellor, January is a fascinating time. Not because anything fundamentally changes in the human psyche overnight but because suddenly, en masse, people decide they will become entirely different people… starting on a random Monday. Ah yes. New Year, New Me. I see it written everywhere. On social media. In WhatsApp groups. Occasionally whispered with a mix of hope and mild panic in my therapy room. But as far as I am concerned you are not a phone that needs a software update. And even if you were, I promise you wouldn’t install version 2.0 at midnight after prosecco and four hours of sleep. January: The Month of Unrealistic Personal Rebrands In January, people arrive with ambitious plans: “This year I’m emotionally regulated.” “I’m setting boundaries.” “I’ll stop procrastinating.” “I’ll finally heal all my childhood stuff.” By January 12th, we’re renegotiating: “Could I just be… slightly less tired?” “What if I keep my coping mechanisms but add one vegetable?” “Is personal growth allowed to nap?” Progress. The Truth Therapists Rarely Put on Instagram Here’s the less glamorous, counsellor-approved reality: Change is slow Growth is inconvenient Insight does not arrive on January 1st wearing activewear Healing often looks like doing the same thing but with a bit more awareness and slightly less self-hatred Also, if “New You” hates the gym, wakes at 5am, journals daily, and drinks green juice, I have some news. That might be Someone Else. Your Nervous System Did Not Agree to This A quick note from your nervous system (which did not attend your New Year planning meeting): “I liked the routines we had. I do not trust sudden enthusiasm. Please stop shouting ‘discipline’ at me.” As a counsellor, I often remind clients: your nervous system prefers consistency, not dramatic reinvention. It likes small, repeatable, boring changes. It thrives on safety, not aggressive vision boards. A More Sustainable Resolution (Counsellor Approved) If you’re open to it, may I suggest an alternative resolution? New Year, Same Me, Just Slightly Kinder. That might look like: Pausing before criticising yourself Resting without earning it Not turning every bad day into a personality flaw Accepting that growth does not require suffering as proof Wild, I know. Final Thoughts You don’t need a new you. You need: More compassion Fewer unrealistic expectations And permission to be human in January, of all months And if you slip up? Congratulations. You are behaving exactly like a person. See you in February, when we quietly admit the real work has always been about acceptance, not reinvention. t source.

If you have ever looked at your partner across the sofa, surrounded by mugs, laundry, and the low hum of a television you are not really watching, and thought, How did romance end up here?, you are in excellent company. A lot of our modern thinking about sex, marriage, desire, and infidelity comes from Esther Perel, a Belgian psychotherapist and relationship expert who has become famous for saying the things many couples feel but rarely say out loud. Her work explores why desire can fade in long-term relationships, why affairs happen, and why love and sex do not always want the same things. Her ideas are equal parts reassuring and unsettling, which is usually a sign they are worth paying attention to. Love Wants Comfort, Desire Wants Space One of Perel’s most quoted observations is that “love seeks closeness, desire needs distance.” This sounds poetic until you realise that distance is quite hard to come by when you share a bed, a bathroom, and strong opinions about how the dishwasher should be loaded. Marriage and long-term partnership are built on familiarity. You know each other’s routines, habits, and mild annoyances. Eroticism, however, thrives on mystery, imagination, and the sense that your partner is still a separate person, not just someone who knows your food order by heart. This helps explain why desire can fade even when love is strong. It is not that anything has gone wrong. It is that comfort has done its job a little too well. Sex Is Never Just About Sex Perel is clear that sex is rarely just about sex. It is about feeling wanted, feeling alive, feeling close, and sometimes feeling free from responsibility for five whole minutes. This is why couples can be deeply committed and still struggle in the bedroom. Sex ends up carrying the emotional weight of everything else. Stress, resentment, exhaustion, and the fact that no one has had a proper night’s sleep since 2019. In short, if sex feels complicated, that is because life is complicated. What on Earth Is Erotic Intelligence? Perel talks about “erotic intelligence”, which sounds intimidating but is actually quite simple. It is about curiosity, imagination, and remembering that your partner exists beyond shared routines and joint calendars. Eroticism lives in anticipation, playfulness, and the ability to see each other as more than co-managers of bills, children, or weekend plans. Sometimes this means planning intimacy rather than waiting for spontaneous magic to strike. Yes, this may involve scheduling sex. No, this does not mean romance is dead. It just means romance has accepted that everyone is tired. Infidelity and the Desire for Something Else Infidelity is the topic no one wants to talk about until it affects them, which is exactly why Perel talks about it so openly. She suggests that affairs are often less about rejecting a partner and more about reconnecting with a lost part of oneself. As she famously puts it, “The victim of the affair says, ‘You broke our marriage.’ The person who had the affair says, ‘I was trying to save myself.’” This does not excuse infidelity, but it does add nuance. It reminds us that relationships are not just about loyalty, but also about identity, freedom, and feeling seen. Perel also challenges the idea that infidelity must automatically mean the end. Some relationships do end. Others survive. Some even change for the better, though usually after difficult conversations and very little glamour. Marriage Is Not a Destination At the heart of Perel’s work is the idea that long-term relationships are not something you “fix” once and then leave alone. Desire changes. People change. Life gets in the way. Marriage and partnership are ongoing conversations, not completed projects. And struggling at times does not mean you are failing. It means you are human and in a relationship with another human, which was always going to be a bit messy. A More Realistic Take on Love Love wants security. Desire wants freedom. Modern relationships are expected to deliver both, ideally while remaining calm, kind, and emotionally available after a long workday. It is a tall order. Esther Perel’s work reminds us that the goal is not perfection or constant passion. It is curiosity, honesty, and the willingness to keep seeing each other as evolving people, not fixed roles. And if you can approach all of that with a sense of humour, a bit of humility, and the occasional deep sigh, you are doing fine.

When we think of counselling, we often imagine a quiet room, a serious tone, and tissues within reach. Yet, amid the emotional depth of therapy, humour can play a profound and transformative role. Far from being frivolous, laughter can open pathways to connection, insight, and healing. As the American psychologist Carl Rogers once said, “What is most personal is most universal.” And sometimes, what’s most personal is also what makes us laugh. The Psychology Behind Humour Sigmund Freud (1928) was one of the first to explore humour as a psychological mechanism. In "Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious," Freud suggested that humour serves as a “release valve,” allowing people to express repressed thoughts in a socially acceptable way. From this perspective, humour can provide both emotional relief and insight into deeper, unconscious material. Later theorists such as Viktor Frankl (1963), the Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, also emphasised humour’s survival value. In "Man’s Search for Meaning," Frankl observed that even in the darkest circumstances, humour offered a way to rise above suffering — a small act of defiance against despair. The Therapeutic Benefits of Humour Research and clinical experience suggest that humour in counselling can: Build rapport and trust: A shared laugh humanises the therapist and strengthens the therapeutic alliance. As Carl Rogers (1957) highlighted, genuineness and warmth are key to effective therapy. A moment of laughter can embody both. Reduce anxiety and defensiveness: Humour can gently disarm resistance, allowing clients to explore difficult issues more freely. Shift perspective: Lightness can help clients reframe their thoughts, see patterns, and develop resilience. Encourage emotional regulation: Studies have found that humour activates brain regions associated with reward and emotion regulation (Mobbs et al., 2003), helping clients manage stress. When Humour Helps — and When It Hurts The art of using humour in therapy lies in timing and sensitivity. As psychologist Albert Ellis (1962), founder of Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT), demonstrated, humour can be a powerful cognitive tool. Ellis often used gentle sarcasm or exaggeration to help clients see the irrationality of their beliefs — what he called “shame-attacking exercises.” Yet, his approach was always underpinned by empathy and respect. As research by Franzini (2001) notes, humour is beneficial in therapy only when it is inclusive, compassionate, and contextually appropriate. Using Humour in Therapy Therapist may: Model self-acceptance: Use gentle self-deprecating humour to show that imperfection is normal. Invite playfulness: Encourage creativity and flexibility in thinking, particularly in cognitive-behavioural or narrative approaches. Observe boundaries: Use humour to connect, not to deflect from the client’s pain. Reflect after laughter: Pause and explore what the humour reveals — what truth lies behind the smile. A Balancing Act Humour in counselling isn’t about telling jokes. It’s about recognising moments of levity and humanity amid struggle. As psychiatrist Irvin Yalom (1989) observed in "Love’s Executioner," authentic connection often includes moments of laughter — even in grief, loss, and despair. Those moments remind clients (and therapists) that healing isn’t just about surviving; it’s about rediscovering joy and perspective. In the end, humour can be seen as a subtle act of resistance against suffering — a way of saying, “I can still find light here.” When used thoughtfully, laughter can be as therapeutic as any interpretation or intervention.

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Every so often, a book comes along that makes counsellors everywhere nod vigorously, underline passages, and mutter “Ah, that explains so much.” Mark Wolynn’s It Didn’t Start With You is one of those books. Its premise is simple but profound: the anxiety, depression, or curious phobias we wrestle with may not have originated in our own life at all. Instead, they may be echoes of unresolved trauma from parents, grandparents, even that mysterious great-uncle no one talks about. Fascinating, right? Of course, it also means my therapy room has turned into a cross between a family reunion and a history class, complete with ghosts of ancestors who never RSVP’d. Family Baggage: The Original Carry-On We all know about family heirlooms, grandma’s teapot, dad’s vinyl collection, the creepy porcelain doll no one asked for. But in my office, the most common inheritance is emotional baggage. And unlike the doll, you can’t just “accidentally” leave it at the charity shop. Some families pass down recipes. Others pass down unresolved guilt, anxiety, or a deep suspicion of clowns. And my job? To help untangle whose circus and whose monkeys these actually are. When “Tell Me About Your Mother” Becomes “Tell Me About Her Mother… and Her Mother Too” Counselling after It Didn’t Start With You feels like hosting a séance. I ask about childhood, and suddenly we’re unpacking World War II, the Great Depression, and “that one time Great-Great-Grandpa mysteriously disappeared for six months.” Clients: “So it’s not my fault?” Me: “Correct. But now it’s your responsibility.” That’s the kicker. Yes, it didn’t start with you. But it’s standing in your living room right now, eating your snacks, messing with your relationships, and refusing to pay rent. We can’t evict it, but we can set some boundaries. The Humour in the Heavy Here’s the thing: intergenerational trauma is heavy, complicated, and sometimes heartbreaking. But humour? Humour is the WD-40 for the rusty bolts of family dysfunction. If you can laugh at Uncle Bob’s inexplicable rage at Tupperware lids, you can start to loosen the grip of the past. My Professional Advice (Delivered with a Wink) If you’re blaming yourself for everything, pause. It probably started with your ancestors. If you’re blaming your ancestors for everything… also pause. You’re still the one holding the porcelain doll. Remember: healing may not have started with you either, but it sure can. And it involves slightly fewer pigeons than Grandma had to deal with. So yes, it didn’t start with you. But if you’re in my counselling room, I promise you this: it can end with you. Preferably with less crying, more laughter, and fingers crossed, no porcelain dolls.

Let me just say it: I never planned to become a counsellor and have Multiple Sclerosis. That combo wasn’t on my vision board. But here I am, juggling client sessions and unpredictable flare-ups like a very tired, slightly dizzy circus act. And you know what? It works. Having MS has turned out to be one of the most unexpected assets in my therapy toolbox. Sure, I’d trade the brain fog and leg spasms for a few more spoons a day, but since that’s not on offer, I’ve decided to lean in and laugh when I can. I Came for the Neuroplasticity, Stayed for the Empathy Before MS, I thought I understood what it meant to “hold space” for someone. Now? I hold space, hold onto the wall, and sometimes hold back tears because I sat down too quickly and now my legs have opinions about it. But seriously, living with MS means I get it. Chronic pain, fatigue, invisible battles, the awkwardness of asking for help (again)? Been there. My clients don’t need to explain what “brain fog” is; I probably forgot their name already and asked them twice. Brain Fog: The Unexpected Superpower Here’s the thing, MS comes with memory issues. This means I forget your last session and approach each one like a fresh start. Tabula rasa, baby! (It's Okay, I am joking) But this also makes me very present. I’m not planning dinner or my grocery list during your session. Result? Pure, undistracted presence. Boom, mindfulness mastered. Realistic Self-Care: Because Bubble Baths Don't Cure Neurological Conditions You know that Pinterest version of self-care? Yeah, MS blew that out of the water. I now define self-care as cancelling plans without guilt, napping like it’s a sport, and bringing my oversized pillow to my therapy pod like it’s a deliberate part of the decor. Clients get to see what actual self-care looks like. Not the kind that’s wrapped in eucalyptus oil, but the kind that involves fierce boundary-setting and learning to say "no" with your eyes closed (because you're already halfway to sleep anyway). Boundaries? I Love Them. Mostly Because I’m Too Tired to Overcommit. Having MS means I’ve had to get really good at boundaries. Do I want to overextend myself to accommodate a client’s last-minute request? Of course. Can I? Only if they want to do therapy while I lie on the floor in compression socks and intermittently fall asleep. Turns out, teaching clients how to respect my boundaries helps them feel empowered to set their own. Win-win. Unless I accidentally nap through the win. Still counts. Accessibility = Creativity Sometimes I can’t do things the traditional way. Walking long distances? Nope. Standing for long periods? Try again. Leading a walking-and-talking therapy session? Only if we both enjoy the thrill of a spontaneous arm grab if I wobble off course. But the upside is: It's made me really creative. I offer flexible sessions, virtual options, and seating arrangements that look suspiciously like a nap den. My pod may resemble a cosy geriatric sauna, but clients love it—and I do too. Vulnerability Makes Therapy Better (Even When It’s My Own) Clients may find it awkward to know I have MS and it’s not part of my personality or something I generally lead with, but it’s not something I hide either. I show up honestly, vulnerably and authentically. This openness fosters a space where clients feel seen, heard, and accepted, especially those with their own chronic conditions or neurodivergent experiences. If your therapist is held together by caffeine, determination, and is also medicated, you start to realise maybe you don’t need to have it all together either. ________________________________________ In Conclusion, It’s Not a Bug, It’s a Feature Having MS hasn’t made counselling easier, but it has made it richer. I connect more deeply, listen more attentively, and model real-life coping in real-time. Plus, I’ve got a great excuse to have a fully stocked snack drawer in my office. (Low blood sugar, high empathy—same difference.) So, if you’re a client looking for someone who truly gets it, or a fellow counsellor wondering if your health challenges disqualify you from helping others, know this: You can be healing and hurting. You can be tired and wise. You can be forgetful and fully present. And yes, you can have MS and still be a damn good therapist. Even if you occasionally forget what day it is.

Yes, the time has come! I'm moving....about five steps away from my house! Whoohoo! A New Chapter: Moving Into the Garden Studio I like to think I have offered a safe and supportive therapeutic space inside my family home, but I am beginning a new and exciting chapter. I had a little vision in mind, I wanted to offer a warm environment, a small oasis of calm in busy Berkshire, and so I have transitioned my practice to a purpose-built therapy room nestled in my garden—a space created specifically for reflection and healing. Why the Move? For many of my clients, my home-based practice offered a warm, informal space that reflected my approach—calm, grounded, and deeply human. But as my practice grew and evolved, so too did the need for a dedicated, private environment that could honour both professional boundaries and my clients' comfort. Over time, it became clear that I needed a space that was just for the work—a quiet, contained setting separate from the rhythms of family life and my son screaming at whatever game he was playing on his PC. The answer was just a few steps away: a garden therapy room, designed with intention and sensitivity. A Purpose-Built Space for Therapeutic Work My new therapy room is a sanctuary in itself. Flooded with natural light, surrounded by greenery, and insulated for warmth and privacy, it offers a sense of calm from the moment clients arrive. Every detail—from the soft furnishings to the garden path that leads to the door—has been chosen to support stillness, safety, and connection. What Clients Can Expect The transition has been made with care to ensure continuity for existing clients and ease for those new to the practice. The location remains in Winnersh, with discreet access via the garden side gate. There’s still off-street parking, and appointment times remain flexible. Whether you’re visiting for the first time or returning after a break, you’ll find the same warm welcome—just with a different view. Looking Ahead The garden room marks more than just a change in setting, it demonstrates my commitment to my work and the people I support If you’re considering therapy or simply curious about the new space, I welcome enquiries. Click on over to my Contact page and get in touch.