“At your age, you should know better! You should be thinking about your future, not messing about with friends. How will you get a job with no qualifications? Do you know what kind of life that will be?”

November always feels like a month of in-between -
the final amber leaves holding on, the warm glow behind closed curtains, and the quiet realisation that - all of a sudden - another year is almost done.

For me, it’s a natural time for reflection:
what has been heavy, what has been nourishing,
and what has shifted quietly under the surface?

Simon looked up, his eye twitching like a flickering bulb. He stared around the office, past the cheery pot plants, inclusive posters, and coffee station, out over the sea of hoodies and suit jackets, the mark of those desk-bound and client-facing. His screen glowed with an HD spreadsheet, rows of numbers that were meant to matter, though lately, he wasn’t sure why. The clock ticked slowly toward 5 pm… again.

Many parents and carers of young people with SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) and SEMH (Social, Emotional and Mental Health) needs are secretly working a second job alongside work and family life. This job involves research, advocacy, meetings, and paperwork, all to ensure that their child or young person can safely access education.

🌿 The Early Divide

The beginning of primary school was great, and I was friends with everyone.

But around Year 4, when I was 8 years old, by some unwritten agreement, it shifted. The boys all moved to the field and the girls to the yard. It was football or role-play games. I liked both, but I wasn’t accepted in either.

I’ve always shied away from political posts, from making strong public stances, partly because - ugh, confrontation - but also because, in counselling, we are often trained to strive for neutrality, like the BBC. But we know that no one is ever truly neutral. I don’t mean neutrality in the analytic sense of curiosity and openness, that remains vital, but the kind of emotional or moral neutrality that denies what’s happening in the world.

September has been heavy for me, not with chaos or trauma, just with the weight of a busy life. The reminder that the ‘normal’ can often be a lot.

In April’s newsletter, I shared a prompt about writing down your “perfect day.” Mine was about slowing the pace, having time to enjoy both offering therapy and writing without feeling rushed, and meeting loved ones without clock-watching. September clearly didn’t get the memo!

The bell rings, and Ms Leam rests against her desk. A dim ray of daylight finally pierces the grimy windows. She wiggles her toes, a feeble attempt to shift the damp sock to the side, cold water clinging to her skin. Her stomach rumbles, and she remembers the now cold, limp piece of toast left on her passenger seat.

There is speculation about the rise in diagnoses of both neurodivergence and mental health concerns, sometimes met with dismissive responses: talk of the “snowflake generation,” or “it wasn’t like that in my day,” or that young people should “just get on with it.”

Will had been dropped off 5 minutes ago by his pastoral lead, and since then, he hadn't said a word. He had nodded twice. So that was something... Wasn't it?

I took a deep breath. I've been counselling for a while, but it's still disconcerting in talking therapies when I'm the only one talking.

September often brings mixed emotions. The seasonal shift is here: cooler breezes, earlier evenings, the occasional hoodie spotted in the street. And yet, everyone feels differently about it. Sometimes, we even feel conflicting things ourselves.

The voice droned on, something about failure and choice, hard work and resilience. Words she’d heard before, too many times.

Her eyes drifted down. The firm plastic seat pressed into her thighs. The chill of the concrete floor seeped through her shoes. Tights itched against her skin. A pen rolled slowly between her fingers, a strand of hair brushing her earlobe, whispers of irritation.

Syed paused, psyching himself up for the shot.
The tension was palpable in the small room, dust settling on the vast wooden board. For a moment, nothing outside this space existed.

I have met with several clients over the years who have found themselves living partially in the quiet of night.

This September, I am hosting a relaxed workshop with Online Events exploring the complex systems our young people exist within, as well as the systems we navigate as professionals supporting them.

A couple of weeks ago, perusing Instagram left me full of longing, a touch of jealousy of sandy beaches, blue skies, and the ease of holidays.

Now that I have had my break, I swipe past those posts, pleased people are happy, but that tug to be elsewhere has eased. What I crave now has shifted; I am ready for the next season.

🌿I recently picked up "Writing Works: A Resource Handbook for Therapeutic Writing Workshops and Activities," edited by Bolton, Field, and Thompson. It’s a practical, insightful book full of ways to use writing, narrative and poetry as therapeutic tools. One of the many exercises invites us to revisit a classic intervention - the unsent letter.

☀️ Rest and Reflection
I’m in the final couple of weeks before my summer break, and, like many people at this time of year, my mind is juggling a lot.

Air

I used to think panic attacks were dramatic, flailing arms, gasping for air, people rushing in to help. My school counsellor taught me otherwise.

I’d been having them for months.

Limbs would freeze, but inside my heart was racing, my vision blurred, my breaths shallow, and an impending sense of doom, while life carried on around me.

Breakfast time. I can’t settle. My brain is hopping from thought to thought.

Hmm, this toast is nice. Do we need more bread? I wonder if I eat too much bread. Does that carb thing actually hold much value? Depends on the nutritionist, I suppose. And the body. What will I have for lunch?