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?

We were once sold Freud’s idea of the blank slate, the therapist as neutral, anonymous, and removed, simply the therapist. In some training, this still lingers as an ideal. But we know now this can’t be entirely true. The blank slate is a myth. So much is inferred the moment we enter the room: from body language, clothing, tone, room setup, word choice, when we smile - and when we don’t. None of this is neutral. It’s all relational data.

Everything was scratching at my nerves: the harsh lights, the constant noise, the unspoken judgment. I’d forgotten my homework, hadn’t done my hair, and had a toothpaste stain down my sleeve. I felt like all eyes were on me, whispers behind my back. A small part of my brain knew it might not be true, but that didn’t stop it from feeling true. My best friend, my only friend, was off sick, and school without her felt like trying to breathe with less oxygen.

Exams wind down, the final term begins, and summer whispers on the horizon.

If you missed it, I recently shared a post on navigating the post-exam crash, that odd feeling of emptiness after the adrenaline fades and revision ends. It’s not always beach days and bliss, but with care and awareness, the good moments can truly feel good.

A few shots down and a warm beer in my hand. The house party is pleasantly blurry at the edges, people moving to the beat, bouncing with freedom and escapism. Arms slung over shoulders, couples tucked into corners. Gossip is loudly whispered into ears, and squeals chorus into the night.

Teenagers are getting a lot of airtime lately, and it’s oddly polarised.

Particularly since the release of Netflix’s Adolescence, there's been a surge in panic about how vulnerable, lost and dangerous young people are. Yes, adolescence can be a time of fragility, confusion, and change. But the series leans into a narrative that casts the whole year group as broken or difficult, and that's simply not true.

Sam stood by the green school gate, propped against a wall, pretending to check his phone. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He pinched the skin on his thigh through his trouser pocket, hard, trying to stop the tears falling. If anyone saw him crying, especially his mates, he’d never live it down.

I was scrolling Facebook Marketplace for new-to-me office chairs, I still haven’t found them, when I came across a faded, brown, formal wooden-framed armchair. The kind my Grandpa would have had.

For those who don’t know - a little about me…
I’m Helen. I'm in my 40s, a proud Northerner, and an experienced counsellor working with young people and adults, especially those navigating life’s messier transitions. I also work as a supervisor, supporting fellow counsellors and professionals in the wellbeing world.

☀️ It’s a four-week half-term, exam season is officially underway, and maybe... the beginning of some nicer weather.

If you're supporting a young person through exams (or if you're in the thick of them yourself), I’ve written an Exam Season Survival Guide. It covers what stress might look like, why comparison can be toxic, and a few practical tips for getting through it all intact.

I had a loft bedroom back in the day (we won’t say how long ago). During my GCSES and A-levels, those loft walls were plastered with mind maps, post-it notes, and colour-coded summaries of every topic I needed to know. I followed my hand-drawn revision schedule religiously. I’ve never had a good memory, and I envied those with photographic recall whilst painstakingly filling out revision cards, all my faith pinned to gel pens and pastel highlighters.

As a child, I dreamed of being a writer, a dancer, a painter, a musician, a textile artist, and a jewellery designer. I never quite got there.

Her heart was vibrating with rage.

Last night had been the biggest fight at home yet.

Her Dad, yet again, just stood taking the verbal and physical slaps until the front door rattled in the frame as her Mam slammed the door on her way out.

Yesterday had been a good day, one of those days when you glide through with low effort and ease.

It seemed I saw someone I knew around every corner, and saying hello or giving a nod to lots of people makes me feel popular, like I belong. I answered a question in class and even told a teacher I didn’t know the answer without wanting to curl up in embarrassment. No one laughed.

I didn’t move. To Emmy, I’m fairly sure nothing changed - but inside, my heart froze. Just for a beat, and then it jump-started at double speed. My body tightened, and my breath vanished. At that moment, it felt like her life was in my hands. Maybe it was.

☀️ Sunny Skies, Endless Revision & the Looming End of the Academic Year

Easter is such a curious time in the academic world. As the days grow longer, the air warms, and the world outside invites us to reconnect - with friends, hobbies, and movement. But just as nature reawakens, the pressure of upcoming exams reminds us that, for many, a significant time is coming to an end.