The kids are not broken. The system is.
Are Phones Really the Problem?
I saw a joke post on Facebook recently about the proposed social media ban for under 16s.
The punchline was that if teenagers can’t scroll TikTok or YouTube anymore, we’ll see a resurgence in some traditional British pastimes:
Drinking cheap cider in parks.
Setting fire to things.
Throwing random objects into canals.
Knock-a-door-run.
Hanging around outside corner shops trying to convince strangers to buy cigarettes.
It was meant to be funny.
And to be fair, I laughed.
Yet underneath the humour sits something much bigger.
Because whilst social media absolutely has risks, I think we’re in danger of looking at the symptom and missing the wider picture.
I Remember 2020
When Covid hit, we closed schools.
We closed clubs.
We closed youth groups.
We closed sports.
We closed communities.
We closed almost everything that helped young people connect.
For many children and teenagers, the only thing left was technology.
Their phones became classrooms.
Their phones became friendships.
Their phones became support networks.
Their phones became connection.
For nearly two years many young people learnt how to socialise through a screen because there was no alternative.
Then we reopened the world and expected them to simply switch back.
Yet human beings don’t work like that.
The Children I See
As a therapist, I see the impact every day.
Young people struggling with social anxiety.
Young people terrified of public transport.
Young people who panic in shops.
Young people who don’t know how to join groups or conversations.
Young people who missed huge chunks of normal social development.
Not because they chose to.
Because circumstances took those opportunities away.
Many were isolated during some of the most important developmental years of their lives.
We talk about lost learning.
I think we’ve underestimated lost living.
School Refusal Isn’t Usually About Home
One of the things I hear most often is discussion around school refusal.
Families are fined.
Parents are blamed.
Children are labelled.
Yet often what I hear from the young person is something entirely different.
They aren’t refusing home.
They’re refusing an environment that feels overwhelming, unsafe, exhausting or impossible to navigate.
There’s a difference.
That doesn’t mean attendance doesn’t matter.
Of course it does.
However, punishment without understanding rarely creates change.
Support does.
Curiosity does.
Compassion does.
We Know So Much More Now
Here’s the thing that frustrates me.
We know more about trauma than ever before.
We know more about neurodivergence than ever before.
We know more about nervous systems than ever before.
We know that behaviour is communication.
We know children don’t wake up in the morning thinking:
“I’d like everyone to dislike me today.”
Children do well when they can.
And when they can’t, something is usually getting in the way.
Yet many are still being punished for symptoms rather than supported with causes.
The child who can’t sit still.
The child who talks too much.
The child who forgets things.
The child who melts down.
The child who shuts down.
The child who avoids school.
The child who masks all day then self-harms privately to cope with the exhaustion.
I hear these stories every week.
Social Media Is Not The Villain Or The Hero
Do I think social media can be harmful?
Absolutely.
Algorithms can be dangerous.
Bullying exists.
Comparison exists.
Predators exist.
Misinformation exists.
Companies absolutely need greater accountability for what is posted and how young people are protected online.
That conversation matters.
However, I don’t think social media is entirely the enemy either.
Because for many young people it is where they found their tribe.
The autistic teenager who suddenly realises they’re not broken.
The ADHD teenager who finally understands why their brain works differently.
The young person questioning their identity.
The child with a niche special interest nobody in school understands.
The teenager lying awake at 2am feeling utterly alone until they discover thousands of people experiencing exactly the same thing.
Connection matters.
Humans need connection.
Always have.
Always will.
When We Remove Connection, We Need To Replace It
If social media access is reduced, then we need to ask ourselves an important question.
What are we replacing it with?
More youth services?
More mental health support?
More community groups?
More safe places to belong?
More understanding within schools?
More accessible therapy?
Absolutely nothing…. Which scares me.
Because if we simply remove a source of connection without creating another one, young people will naturally look elsewhere.
Humans are wired to seek belonging.
If they can’t find it in one place, they’ll search for it somewhere else.
Sometimes in healthy ways.
Sometimes in unhealthy ones.
The Real Conversation
I don’t think this is really about phones.
I think it’s about connection.
I think it’s about belonging.
I think it’s about understanding.
I think it’s about creating environments where young people feel safe enough to be themselves.
Where differences aren’t punished.
Where support arrives before crisis.
Where behaviour is met with curiosity rather than shame.
Because children are not the problem.
Most are doing their absolute best with the tools available to them.
Perhaps the real question isn’t:
“How do we get children off their phones?”
Perhaps it’s:
“How do we create a world they genuinely want to engage with?”
That feels like a much more important conversation.
And one worth having.
Stay safe, stay connected, and take gentle care.
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
The Unexpected Gift of Taking Two Weeks Off
For the first time in over two years, I took two weeks off work.
Even writing that feels strange.
If you know me, you’ll know sitting still isn’t exactly my natural state. My brain likes projects. Ideas. Learning. Creating. Doing. I genuinely love my work and feel incredibly privileged to do what I do.
So the thought of taking two whole weeks away from it felt uncomfortable.
Really uncomfortable.
In fact, I almost didn’t.
Part of me felt guilty.
Part of me worried about clients.
Part of me felt like I should be doing something productive.
And part of me simply didn’t know what I would do with myself.
The original plan had been to go abroad.
That didn’t happen.
And if I’m honest, I’m glad it didn’t.
Because what I actually needed wasn’t distraction.
I needed space.
Space to breathe.
Space to think.
Space to feel.
Sitting With What Is
Anyone who has experienced grief will know that sometimes keeping busy becomes a survival strategy.
And sometimes that’s exactly what we need.
However sometimes, eventually, we need to stop running.
Not because we’re doing anything wrong.
Just because there are feelings quietly waiting for us.
So instead of rushing off somewhere sunny, I found myself sitting with my own life.
With my thoughts.
With my grief.
With my hopes.
With the reality of what has been one of the hardest periods of my life.
And strangely, it was exactly what I needed.
Not easy.
Not comfortable.
Yet totally needed.
It Started With Some Weeding…
Like many things in life, it started small.
A bit of weeding.
Just a few hours outside.
A chance to clear my head.
Or so I thought.
Fast forward a little and what started as pulling weeds became something much bigger.
Much deeper.
I found myself creating.
Building.
Planning.
Learning.
Growing.
Not just a garden.
Myself.
What surprised me most was how therapeutic it all felt.
No pressure.
No expectations.
No deadlines.
Just me, the dogs, the land, and whatever the day brought.
The Therapy of Growing Things
As therapists, we often talk about growth.
Healing.
Change.
The seasons of life.
But gardening has made me experience those things in an entirely different way.
You can’t rush a seed.
You can’t force a flower.
You can’t demand a rose bloom because you’re ready for it.
And for someone with ADHD who likes ideas to happen immediately, that has been quite the lesson.
Patience.
Now there’s a skill I am still working on!!
The garden doesn’t care how quickly I want something to happen.
Nature moves at its own pace.
And perhaps there’s something beautiful in that.
Because healing works in much the same way.
People don’t heal because someone tells them to.
They heal when they’re ready.
When conditions are right.
When they’ve had enough safety, support, nourishment and time.
A New Love Affair
What I didn’t expect was to completely fall in love with it.
Not perfection.
Not pristine borders.
Not magazine-worthy gardens.
The process.
The learning.
The mistakes.
The excitement of something new appearing.
The joy of seeing wildlife arrive.
The creativity.
The connection.
The peace.
I have learnt more in a few months than I ever imagined possible.
And the more I learn, the more I realise how little I know.
I think that’s true of most things worth doing.
Seven Acres of Perspective
When you have seven acres, you very quickly realise something.
It is never going to be finished.
There will always be another project.
Another idea.
Another area to improve.
Another season arriving.
And weirdly, I find that comforting.
For years, I think I unconsciously viewed life as something that would eventually be “done.”
That one day everything would be sorted.
Perfect.
Complete.
But life isn’t like that.
Neither are people.
Neither is healing.
Neither is grief.
Neither is a garden.
They’re all works in progress.
And perhaps that’s exactly how they’re meant to be.
What I Learnt
I learnt that rest isn’t laziness.
I learnt that doing nothing sometimes creates space for something important.
I learnt that grief still arrives when it wants to.
I learnt that fresh air genuinely helps.
I learnt that puppies make everything better.
I learnt that reading for hours is not time wasted.
I learnt that I still love learning as much as ever.
I learnt that creating something with my hands grounds me in a way I hadn’t fully appreciated before.
I learnt there are many ways to process feelings.
Talking is one.
Writing is one.
Walking is one.
Gardening is one too.
And perhaps most importantly, I learnt that I don’t need to have everything figured out.
A Lifetime of Learning
One of the greatest gifts this time has given me is a reminder that I don’t need to rush.
I don’t need to master everything immediately.
I don’t need to know all the answers.
I can simply stay curious.
Gardening has introduced me to an entirely new language.
Mulching.
Companion planting.
Dead hedges.
Perennials.
Pollinators.
So many things I had never even thought about before.
And I love that.
Because I hope I never stop learning.
As a therapist.
As a human.
As a daughter carrying grief.
As a wife.
As a friend.
As someone trying to navigate life the best they can.
The garden will continue to grow.
The land will continue to evolve.
The therapy space will continue to evolve alongside it.
And so will I.
Not perfectly.
Not quickly.
Just steadily.
Season by season.
Just as nature intended.
💚
Stay safe, stay connected and take gentle care.
Louise x
The Part of You That Still Wants Connection
This image stopped me scrolling.
Two adults sitting back to back.
Hurt.
Frustrated.
Disconnected.
Yet inside them, their younger selves are reaching for one another.
Wanting connection.
Wanting comfort.
Wanting to know they’re still loved.
As a therapist, I look at this image and think, “This is what so many arguments are really about.”
Because most disagreements aren’t actually about the dishes, the text message, being late, the forgotten birthday card, the money, the holiday, or whose turn it was.
They’re about something much deeper.
“Do I matter to you?”
“Am I important?”
“Do you see me?”
“Am I safe with you?”
“Will you still love me if I’m upset?”
Most people don’t walk into an argument consciously thinking those things.
Instead, we get angry.
Defensive.
Critical.
Silent.
We withdraw.
We slam doors.
We say things we don’t mean.
Or worse, we say nothing at all.
And underneath it sits that vulnerable part of us desperately trying to be heard.
Trauma Doesn’t Stay In Childhood
One of the biggest misconceptions I hear is that we should simply “grow up” and leave childhood behind.
If only it were that simple.
The reality is that our nervous systems remember.
If you grew up feeling unheard, criticism may hit harder.
If you grew up walking on eggshells, conflict may feel terrifying.
If love was inconsistent, distance may feel unbearable.
If your needs weren’t met, you may struggle to ask for them directly.
So when something happens in adulthood, it isn’t always just the adult part of us responding.
Sometimes it’s the ten-year-old.
The eight-year-old.
The frightened teenager.
The child who learned they weren’t enough.
And suddenly an argument about something seemingly small feels enormous.
Not because you’re dramatic.
Not because you’re broken.
But because your nervous system is responding to more than what is happening in the present moment.
We All Want To Be Chosen
I often work with couples who are exhausted.
Not because they don’t love each other.
But because they’ve become trapped in a cycle.
One person pursues.
The other withdraws.
One gets louder.
The other gets quieter.
One demands answers.
The other shuts down.
Both feel alone.
Neither feels understood.
And both are often standing there saying exactly the same thing underneath:
“Please choose me.”
“Please understand me.”
“Please don’t leave me emotionally.”
That’s why communication matters so much.
Not perfect communication.
Not textbook communication.
Human communication.
Learning to say:
“I’m hurt.”
Instead of:
“You never care.”
Learning to say:
“I need reassurance.”
Instead of:
“You don’t love me.”
Learning to say:
“I’m scared.”
Instead of:
“Fine. Whatever.”
Simple in theory.
Incredibly hard in practice.
Especially if nobody ever taught us how.
Pride Is Expensive
One thing this image captures beautifully is pride.
That stubborn place where neither person wants to move first.
Neither person wants to apologise.
Neither person wants to be vulnerable.
We’ve all been there.
I’ve been there.
Yet the irony is that most of the time, both people are hurting.
Both people want resolution.
Both people want connection.
And both are waiting for the other person to make the first move.
The longer that happens, the more resentment builds.
The more stories we create.
The more disconnected we become.
The Goal Isn’t To Win
This is something I talk about regularly in couples work.
The goal isn’t to win.
If someone wins and someone loses, the relationship loses.
The goal is understanding.
Curiosity.
Compassion.
Being willing to step into your partner’s shoes for a moment and see the world through their eyes.
Not agreeing with everything.
Not tolerating abuse.
Not abandoning your own needs.
But seeking understanding before defence.
Because most people soften when they feel understood.
Therapy Is Often About Helping The Adult Hold The Child
The inner child concept gets thrown around a lot online.
For me, it’s much simpler than people make it.
It’s about recognising that younger parts of us still exist.
The scared parts.
The lonely parts.
The ashamed parts.
The parts that learned survival strategies long before we had adult resources.
In therapy, we gently explore those parts.
We help them feel heard.
We learn where they came from.
And slowly, we stop expecting our partners, friends, children, parents or colleagues to heal wounds they didn’t create.
Instead, we learn how to care for ourselves differently.
How to communicate differently.
How to connect differently.
The Privilege Of Being Human
What I love most about this image isn’t the adults.
It’s the children.
Because despite everything, despite the hurt, despite the backs being turned, despite the silence…
The children are still reaching.
Still hopeful.
Still believing connection is possible.
And honestly?
I think there’s something beautiful about that.
Because healing isn’t about never arguing.
Relationships aren’t about never disagreeing.
It’s about finding your way back to each other afterwards.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Maybe that’s what healthy relationships really are.
Not perfection.
Just two imperfect people willing to turn around.
💛
If this resonates, whether in your relationship with a partner, friend, family member or even yourself, therapy can help you understand the patterns underneath the conflict and find new ways forward.
Stay safe, stay connected and take gentle care.
Louise x
Wildfire Counselling & Therapy
Tunbridge Wells & Online
ADHD Coaching Isn’t Therapy… nevertheless, It Can Be Life Changing
I see posts regularly from people saying they were getting absolutely nothing out of ADHD coaching.
They felt directed.
Talked at.
Exhausted.
Like they were being told what to do rather than understood.
And honestly? It got me thinking.
Because ADHD support should never feel like another environment where you’re failing, masking, trying to “perform properly,” or squeezing yourself into someone else’s system.
That’s not how I work.
And it’s also why understanding the difference between ADHD coaching and therapy really matters.
So… what
is
ADHD coaching?
ADHD coaching is practical, supportive and future focused.
It’s about helping someone understand how their brain works and finding ways to make life feel more manageable, less overwhelming and more aligned with who they are.
That might include things like:
overwhelm and paralysis
Rejection Sensitivity understanding
procrastination
routines and structure
emotional regulation
motivation and dopamine seeking
work struggles
business support
burnout
studying and learning
communication
relationships
organisation
sensory needs
confidence and self esteem
people pleasing
time blindness
task initiation
accountability
And here’s the important bit…
Good ADHD coaching should never feel rigid.
Because ADHD brains aren’t rigid.
Therapy and coaching are not the same thing
Therapy often looks at the deeper emotional world.
Past experiences.
Trauma.
Attachment.
Shame.
Patterns.
Nervous system responses.
Wounding.
Identity.
Coaching is usually more action based and present focused.
“How do I move forward?”
“What works for me?”
“How do I stop drowning in life admin?”
“How do I actually DO the thing?”
The two can overlap beautifully, especially with neurodivergent people, because many ADHDers carry years of shame, criticism, rejection sensitivity and burnout alongside the practical struggles.
And that’s where my work is a bit different.
Why I work differently
I’m not someone who sits there with a clipboard rigidly directing your life.
I work relationally.
That means we build trust first.
Because honestly? Most ADHDers have spent years being misunderstood, corrected, criticised, rushed, dismissed or told they’re “too much.”
So why would I recreate that environment?
I work with clients, not on them.
Your goals matter.
Your feedback matters.
Your autonomy matters.
I regularly check in with clients to make sure sessions are actually helping and meeting their needs. If something isn’t working, we explore it together.
Because there is no one-size-fits-all ADHD support.
Some clients love structure and accountability.
Some need flexibility.
Some need space to process verbally.
Some need practical systems.
Some need both.
Some sessions we deep dive into one subject.
Others we explore 20 things at once because that’s how your brain is firing that day.
That’s ok.
ADHD support should feel human
I’m very down to earth.
You can swear.
Fidget.
Move around.
Sit cross legged.
Bring snacks.
Take notes.
Forget what you were saying halfway through.
Message yourself reminders & Whats App me reminders of things you want to bring.
Need things repeated.
Need visual aids.
Need body doubling.
Need processing time.
You are not “doing therapy wrong.”
You are not “bad at coaching.”
Your brain simply works differently.
And when support is neuro-affirming rather than rigid, things can shift massively.
What to expect working with me
Sessions are collaborative.
No judgement.
No pretending.
No pressure to perform.
We explore what works for you.
That may involve:
practical strategies
nervous system regulation
routines that actually suit ADHD brains
sensory support
emotional overwhelm
accountability
creative exploration
body doubling
breaking tasks down
understanding dopamine
exploring shame and self worth
helping you work with your brain rather than constantly against it
Sometimes clients need practical support.
Sometimes emotional support.
Sometimes both.
And that’s ok too.
A huge thing I encourage? Find someone you feel drawn to.
Not every coach is for every client.
And that matters.
If you don’t feel safe, understood or comfortable, it’s hard to do meaningful work.
Go with your gut.
Talk to a few people.
Ask questions.
See how they respond.
Notice how you feel.
You deserve support that feels human.
Questions to ask when looking for an ADHD coach
Do they understand neurodivergence beyond stereotypes?
Can sessions be flexible?
Do they work collaboratively?
Are they trauma informed?
Do they understand nervous systems and shame?
Will they adapt to your learning and communication style?
Do you actually feel comfortable with them?
Can you be yourself around them?
Because the relationship matters.
Massively.
The right support can change everything
ADHD coaching isn’t about “fixing” you.
You are not broken.
It’s about understanding yourself properly, often for the very first time, and building a life around how your brain genuinely works.
That can be life changing.
I’ve seen people go from feeling lazy, chaotic, incapable and ashamed… to understanding they were never failing.
They simply needed support that fit.
And honestly?
That’s the kind of work I absolutely love.
❤️🩹
If this resonates and you’d like to explore ADHD coaching or therapy with me, feel free to get in touch for a free no obligation intro chat.
Stay safe, stay connected and take gentle care,
Louise x
📍 Tunbridge Wells & online
🌿 Wildfire Counselling & Therapy
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🔗 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
The Chair That Changed Everything (ADHD, Complex Trauma & Feeling Safe Enough to Be)
It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.
A chair.
But finding the right chair has genuinely made a huge difference to how I cope, how I work, and how I feel in my own space.
And if you’ve got ADHD, neurodivergent and/or complex trauma… you’ll probably get it.
Because this isn’t about furniture.
It’s about safety.
Regulation.
Being able to exist in your body without it screaming at you.
ADHD, Complex PTSD… and the body
When you live with ADHD, your nervous system is already seeking.
Seeking stimulation.
Seeking dopamine.
Seeking something to help you focus, settle, engage.
Add complex PTSD into the mix, and your body is also scanning.
Scanning for threat.
Scanning for discomfort.
Scanning for anything that doesn’t feel quite right.
So you’ve got this constant push-pull of:
“I need stimulation”
“I need to feel safe”
At the same time.
Which can feel exhausting.
And this is where the outside world, the environment, matters more than people realise.
The wrong setup = instant overwhelm
Hard chairs.
Stiff posture.
Nowhere to move.
I don’t last five minutes.
My body gets agitated.
I start fidgeting more.
My focus goes.
I get hot, irritated, distracted.
And then the shame creeps in…
“Why can’t I just sit still like everyone else?”
But it’s not about willpower.
It’s about what my nervous system needs.
The right chair?
Game changer.
Soft enough to feel held.
Big enough to sit cross-legged.
Space to move, shift, fidget.
Supportive without being restrictive.
A place where I can curl up, ground myself, or stretch out a bit when I need to.
It means my body isn’t fighting me while I’m trying to think, feel, listen or work.
And that frees up so much energy.
Why this matters (especially in therapy)
When the body feels safer, the mind can follow.
If I’m sitting there uncomfortable, restricted, overstimulated or under-supported…
I’m not fully present.
And if I’m not fully present, I’m not able to do the work I care so deeply about.
The same goes for clients.
That’s why my space isn’t clinical.
It’s:
Big comfy sofas
Chairs you can move in
Space to sit how you want
Cross-legged? Fine.
Curled up? Fine.
Feet tucked under you? Fine.
You don’t have to sit “properly” to be taken seriously.
Little things that aren’t little
This is something I talk about a lot.
Because people underestimate how much these “small” external things matter.
However, for ADHD and trauma?
They’re not small.
They’re the difference between:
Being able to stay
Or needing to leave
Being able to focus
Or completely switching off
Being able to feel
Or shutting it all down
It’s not just the chair
It’s the whole environment.
The drink in your hand.
The warmth.
The ability to move.
The freedom to be yourself without being corrected.
It all sends a message to your nervous system:
You’re okay here.
And when you feel okay?
That’s when things start to shift.
From “what’s wrong with me?” to “what do I need?”
For years, I thought I was the problem.
Too fidgety.
Too restless.
Too much.
Now I know better.
I don’t need to force myself into environments that don’t work for me.
I need to create environments that support me.
That chair is part of that.
And it might sound simple… yet it’s been powerful.
If you relate…
Look at your environment.
Not with judgement, with curiosity.
What helps your body feel supported?
What makes things harder?
What could you tweak, even slightly?
Because regulation isn’t just something we do internally.
It’s something we build externally too.
And sometimes?
It starts with something as simple as a chair.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care,
Louise x
Associates link to the one i bought ☺️
Resetting Relationships: Dating Again, But This Time With Intention
Whether you’re stepping back into dating after a breakup, a divorce, loss… or even choosing to “date again” within a long-term relationship, there’s something really important to understand:
We don’t have to repeat old patterns.
But we do have to become intentional.
What does “intentional dating” actually mean?
It’s not about playing games.
Not about ticking boxes.
Not about rushing into something to fill a gap.
It’s about slowing things down enough to really see the person in front of you.
And letting them see you too.
Because connection isn’t built on chemistry alone, it’s built on understanding.
What I’ve learned (and use) from
John Gottman
and
The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work
Healthy relationships aren’t about perfection.
They’re about how we show up with each other over time.
Some of the most important foundations?
1. Get to know their world (and let them know yours)
Gottman calls these “love maps.”
It’s not just:
“What do you do for work?”
It’s:
What stresses you out?
What lights you up?
What’s your history with relationships?
What do you need when things feel hard?
We often assume we know people early on.
We don’t.
Stay curious.
2. Small moments matter more than big gestures
Relationships are built in the everyday.
A message.
A check-in.
A “thinking of you.”
Gottman talks about “bids for connection” those small attempts we make to connect.
And the key?
Turning towards them.
Not ignoring.
Not dismissing.
Not missing them.
3. Be clear, not clever
No mind-reading.
No guessing games.
Say what you mean:
“I’d like to see you more”
“I need reassurance sometimes”
“I struggle with trust because of my past”
It’s vulnerable.
But it’s honest.
And honesty builds safety.
4. Learn how each other does conflict
Because it will happen.
Not all conflict is bad.
But how we handle it matters.
Can you stay respectful?
Can you listen without jumping in?
Can you repair after a wobble?
You’re not looking for someone you never disagree with.
You’re looking for someone you can disagree safely with.
5. Notice the red flags… and the green ones
We’re often hyper-aware of what’s wrong.
But what about what’s right?
Do you feel calmer around them?
Do they listen?
Do they take accountability?
Do they respect your boundaries?
That matters.
A lot.
6. Don’t abandon yourself to make it work
This is a big one.
If you’re twisting, shrinking, over-giving, second-guessing…
That’s information.
Healthy relationships don’t require you to stop being you.
They make space for you.
7. Go at a pace that feels safe
You don’t need to rush.
You don’t need to “lock it in.”
You’re allowed to:
Take your time
Check in with yourself
Change your mind
Intentional dating is not about urgency.
It’s about alignment.
Why this matters
Because many of us didn’t learn this growing up.
We learned:
To people-please
To ignore red flags
To chase unavailable people
To stay quiet to keep the peace
So of course dating can feel confusing.
Overwhelming.
Even unsafe at times.
This time, you get to do it differently
With awareness.
With boundaries.
With honesty.
And with someone who meets you there.
Final thought
You’re not looking for perfect.
You’re looking for real, safe, respectful connection.
And that starts with how you show up.
Intentional.
Curious.
Grounded in yourself.
If you’re navigating dating, relationships, or trying to reset old patterns, this is something we can explore together. Either individually or as a couple, you don’t have to do it alone.
Because you don’t have to keep repeating what hurt you.
You can build something different.
Stay safe, stay connected and take gentle care,
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
When the Past Isn’t Past: Trauma, Pregnancy & Birth (Even Years Later)
I was watching Virgin River the other day.
There was a storyline around polyhydramnios.
And just like that… I wasn’t on my sofa anymore.
I was back there.
My son is nearly 28.
And it hit my body like it was yesterday.
The fear.
The aloneness.
The not knowing what was going to happen next.
Without going into detail… I nearly died.
My mum sat by my side after being told it was touch and go whether I would live. The trauma and fear she must have felt, the kids dad too. Powerless.
“Yet that was years ago…”
Yes.
And also… no.
Because trauma doesn’t work in timelines.
Trauma is anything the brain couldn’t fully process at the time.
And pregnancy and childbirth?
They can be full of moments like that.
Medical emergencies
Loss of control
Fear for your life or your baby’s
Not being heard
Not understanding what’s happening
Being left alone in moments you needed someone
Even when everything “turns out okay” on paper…
The body might tell a different story.
Why it can come back years later
You might not think about it for years.
Then something small triggers it:
A TV show
A conversation
A smell
A hospital setting
Even your own child reaching a certain age
And suddenly…
Your heart is racing.
Your chest is tight.
You feel emotional, shaky, overwhelmed.
And it can feel confusing.
“Why is this coming up now?”
Because that part of you is still there.
Not broken.
Not dramatic.
Just… unprocessed.
This isn’t just about “near death”
We often think trauma has to be extreme.
It doesn’t.
Trauma is subjective.
It’s about what your nervous system experienced as too much.
That could be:
A difficult labour
Feeling dismissed by medical professionals
An emergency C-section
Birth not going to plan
Postnatal complications
Feeling unsupported or alone
Fear, confusion, or overwhelm
All of that can stay in the body.
And it’s not just the person giving birth
Partners too.
They often:
Feel helpless
Powerless
Terrified
Like they have to “stay strong”
And there’s very little space for them to process that.
I’ve sat with partners who still carry those moments years later.
What helped me in that moment
I didn’t push it away.
I didn’t tell myself to “get over it.”
I noticed it.
I slowed down.
And I met that younger, vulnerable part of me with compassion.
Not judgement.
Not frustration.
Just:
“That was a lot. No wonder it still lives in me.”
Because this is the truth
You don’t just “move on” from things your body hasn’t processed.
You carry them.
Until something, or someone, helps you gently look at them.
How therapy can help
You don’t have to relive every detail.
You don’t even have to have the “right words.”
We can:
Work with what your body remembers
Notice triggers and responses
Gently process what feels safe to explore
Bring understanding to reactions that feel confusing
Reduce the intensity of those emotional waves
At your pace.
Always.
If this resonates
You’re not alone.
You’re not overreacting.
And you’re definitely not “making a fuss.”
Your body did exactly what it was designed to do, protect you.
It just hasn’t had the chance to fully stand down yet.
Even after all these years, I can feel it.
However, now?
I can also hold it.
With compassion.
With understanding.
Without shame.
And that changes everything.
If pregnancy, birth, or anything around that time still feels “alive” in you… even years later…
I see you.
It makes sense.
And it’s something we can gently work through, together.
Stay safe, stay connected, take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
ADHD, Fidgeting & Why It Actually Helps (Not Hinders)
If you’ve ever been told to “stop fidgeting,” you’ll know how bloody frustrating that is… especially when fidgeting is the very thing helping you stay present.
For many people with ADHD, fidgeting isn’t a bad habit.
It’s regulation.
Why we fidget (stim/self-soothe)
ADHD brains are driven by dopamine. When there isn’t enough stimulation, the brain looks for ways to create it.
That’s where fidgeting comes in.
Tapping a pen.
Twisting a ring.
Doodling.
Playing with something in your hands.
It’s not distraction, it’s support.
You’re giving your brain just enough input to:
Stay focused
Stay calm
Stay engaged
This is often called stimming (self-stimulatory behaviour), and it’s a completely natural way the nervous system regulates itself, especially in ADHD and autism.
When we can’t fidget
This is the bit people don’t always see.
When we’re expected to sit still, hands quiet, body still…
That internal discomfort can ramp up fast.
Restlessness
Irritation
Anxiety
Losing focus completely
Your brain is basically saying:
“I need something to hold onto here.”
Without it, everything becomes harder.
Fidgets = regulation, not distraction
The right fidget can:
Reduce anxiety
Improve concentration
Help with emotional regulation
Keep you grounded in conversations or tasks
It’s not about keeping your hands busy for the sake of it, it’s about supporting your nervous system.
My go-to adult fidgets
Not all fidgets are created equal, and what works for one person might drive another mad (scratchy textures… absolutely not for me).
Some of my favourites: (i’ll post some amazon affiliate links below)
Smooth spinner rings
Soft putty or thinking clay
Clicky pens (but not too loud!)
Stress balls with a bit of resistance
Fidget cubes (with quieter settings)
Doodling with gel pens or fineliners
Fabric textures (hoodie strings, soft materials)
And honestly? Sometimes it’s just a good pen and paper.
It’s about what works for you
There’s no “right” fidget.
Some people need movement.
Some need texture.
Some need something visual.
The key is finding something that:
Feels good in your hands
Doesn’t overwhelm your senses
Helps you stay present
Final thought
Fidgeting isn’t something to “fix.”
It’s something to understand and work with.
So if you’ve spent years trying to sit still and feeling like you’re failing…
You’re not.
Your brain just works differently.
And sometimes, the smallest things, something to hold, to move, to feel, can make the biggest difference.
Find what works for you. Your nervous system will thank you.
stay safe, stay connected and take gentle care
Louise x
Just to be really transparent, I’ll pop some links to the bits I like & use, and they’ll be Amazon affiliate links, so I may earn a small commission if you choose to buy through them. Absolutely no pressure though, and I always say shop around, a bargain is a brilliant little dopamine hit in itself
Nestling 30Pcs Fidget Pack
PILPOC theFube Fidget Cube https://amzn.to/4sK2fYP
Fidget Chain
Fidget Gel Pens
3Pcs Fidget Toys Cube Toy Sensory Toy, Fidget Pad, Fidget Controller Stress Reducer, Infinity Cube, Stress Anxiety Relief
Magnetic Metal Fidget
HOTUT Fidget Slider
Sensory Stone: 6pcs Textured Worry Stone
Spinner with 360° Rotation
Anxiety Ring, Mens Black Gear Spinner Rings
ONO Roller Black - (The Original) Handheld Fidget Toy for Adults
Metal Poker Fidget Slider
Magnetic Fidget Balls
Transformable Sensory Fidget Spinner
https://amzn.to/4cUCz5V
Penitue 3-in-1 Fidget Toy for Adults
Rotating Cube Bead Orbit Ball Maze Ball Fidget Hand Spinner Sensory Toys Anxiety and Stress Relief
TOSY Magnet Fidget Spinner Mini - 8 blocks, 3 in 1
TOSY Magnet Fidget Spinner Glow - 16 blocks, 3in1 Toy: Transformable Fidget Spinner, Infinity/Puzzle Cube
SCIONE 2PCS Fidget Spinner Rainbow Sensory Fidget
Rainbow dragon ball fidget
510pcs Ferrite Putty Fidget
WATERELF Multichromatic Illusion Putty
Therapy Exercise Putty 5 Strengths
Strength Doesn’t Need to Humiliate
I watched the new documentary by Louis Theroux about the manosphere. As always, he does what he does best. I thought long and hard before writing this. I questioned what people may think. Due to my past, could I be informed rather than bias? Who might I offend? See the problem? The trauma doesnt just go away. I had to challenge that. I had to step up and hold the hurt part of me tight and say that its ok, write.
So Mr Theroux, He doesn’t storm in arguing.
He doesn’t shout people down.
He sits quietly, asks simple questions, and gives people enough space to talk.
And when people talk long enough… the mask tends to slip.
As a therapist, and also as a woman, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a mother and a friend, watching it stirred up a lot of thoughts for me.
Because while programmes like this can make it look like the behaviour belongs to a loud corner of the internet, the reality I see in the therapy room is often very different.
This attitude doesn’t just live on podcasts and social media clips.
It lives in homes.
In relationships.
In everyday language.
I sit with people, women and men who have experienced the impact of this thinking. Being belittled, dismissed, slowly eroded by the way they are spoken to.
Words like thick.
Stupid.
Useless.
Sometimes framed as jokes. Sometimes said in anger. Sometimes repeated so often they become normalised.
HOWEVER, they are NOT normal.
They are NOT harmless.
And when children grow up hearing those words, watching one parent belittle the other, absorbing the tone and the dynamic, something important happens.
They learn.
Children don’t learn respect from lectures.
They learn it from what they see.
If a father belittles a partner while declaring that the children come first and will have everything they want, those children are still absorbing something powerful:
That this is how men behave.
That this is how women are spoken to.
That power looks like humiliation.
And that becomes the template.
We only really understand boundaries and respect when we experience them being modelled.
Something else that stood out in the documentary was how much of the “alpha male” image felt like performance.
The expensive cars.
The talk of dominance.
The constant references to status and control.
It often looks less like strength and more like theatre designed for an audience, particularly young men who are still trying to work out who they are.
Another theme was the way anger towards women is being packaged as empowerment.
Instead of encouraging responsibility, growth, emotional maturity or partnership, resentment is being sold as wisdom.
Women are framed as the problem.
And underneath all that bravado, what you often sense is insecurity.
The louder the chest beating, the more fragile it sometimes appears.
True confidence does not need to degrade women.
It doesn’t need an audience to validate it.
And it certainly doesn’t need to humiliate someone else in order to feel powerful.
What concerns me most is the impact on the next generation.
Millions of young boys are consuming this content. They’re being told that relationships are battles. That women are opponents. That status and dominance define masculinity.
At the same time, young girls are absorbing messages about what they should tolerate.
Social media has an enormous emotional influence on developing identities.
Which is why what we model at home matters so much.
Children need boundaries.
They need to learn manners.
They need to learn respect for other people’s perspectives.
They need to understand that time, effort and kindness are valuable, not something to take for granted.
They also need to learn how to become independent human beings who contribute to society, not grow up believing they are entitled to everything.
Partners deserve dignity and respect.
Children deserve the safety of being children, learning, making mistakes, observing the adults around them.
They are not our friends.
They are not mini adults.
And they absorb every nuance of how we treat each other.
For the people who have been on the receiving end of this kind of behaviour, the answer is not blame or judgement.
It is compassion.
Time.
Understanding.
And support to rebuild confidence and boundaries that may have been slowly worn down.
We should be empowering vulnerable women.
And we should also be helping men who want to change, grow and build healthier relationships.
Because the truth is, masculinity does not need to be aggressive to be strong.
Strength can look like kindness.
Respect.
Accountability.
Emotional maturity.
And perhaps the quiet brilliance of people like Louis Theroux reminds us of something important.
You don’t need to dominate the room to reveal the truth.
Sometimes you just need to sit calmly and let people show you who they really are.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise ❤️🩹
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
I’m Not Thick, I Just Learn Differently (ADHD, Dopamine & Finding What Actually Works)
For years, I thought I couldn’t study.
Not in a dramatic way. Just a quiet, heavy belief sitting in the background.
Other people can do this. I can’t.
I’d sit there with textbooks, lined paper, scratchy pens, information that felt overwhelming… and my brain would just go nope.
And when people see you as intelligent, that makes it even harder.
Because the message becomes:
“Just get on with it.”
“You’re overthinking.”
So the shame creeps in.
But here’s what I know now:
I’m not thick.
I was never thick.
Nobody had shown me how to learn in a way that actually worked for my brain.
Because with ADHD, external things matter. A lot.
We are driven by dopamine. It’s not a preference — it’s how our brains regulate attention, motivation and engagement.
So if something feels dull, uncomfortable, scratchy, overwhelming or visually chaotic…
We’re not being dramatic.
Our brain literally goes offline.
The sensory side of learning (that nobody talks about enough)
People often ask about my notes and setup, and honestly, it’s not just aesthetic.
It’s survival.
Paper?
Has to be decent quality. Over 80gsm minimum. My sweet spot is 100gsm or more.
Thin, flimsy paper where the pen drags or bleeds through?
Absolutely not.
That alone can send me into overwhelm.
And notebooks?
Dotted. Always dotted.
Lines feel restrictive and busy. Blank pages can feel too open. Dotted sits perfectly in the middle, structure without overwhelm.
Sizes depend on what I’m doing:
A tiny one in my bag (because thoughts don’t wait)
A5 for planning and formulation
A4 for bigger subjects (though that can feel overwhelming at first)
A5 is my comfort zone. A4 is my “get it all out” space.
Pens (yes… they matter more than you think)
If a pen scratches, skips, or doesn’t glide?
Game over.
I get hot. Stressed. Irritated.
And suddenly I’m hyperfocused on the pen, not the learning.
So I use what works:
Sharpie S-Gel pens (they glide, no resistance)
Micron pens (thin tips, smooth, satisfying)
That smoothness = less friction = more focus.
Colour, structure & dopamine
I use colour. A lot.
Not because it looks pretty (although it does)… but because:
It keeps my brain engaged
It helps information stick
It gives me tiny dopamine hits while I’m learning
I also use my own version of Cornell note-taking, adapted to suit me.
Because my brain likes:
Knowing what it’s looking for
Having a clear place to put information
Being able to go back and instantly see key points
If it’s visually overwhelming, I won’t use it again.
If it’s clear and pleasing? I’ll come back to it.
Organisation (without overwhelm)
ADHD brains often want everything.
All the pens. All the colours. All the options.
Which can quickly turn into chaos.
So I’ve found what works for me:
Upright pencil cases that unzip and turn into pen pots.
They stand up.
They contain the chaos.
They limit how much I carry.
One for writing tools and highlighters.
One for colouring/doodling.
No piles. No overwhelm. Just enough.
The way I actually study
Here’s the honest bit.
I cannot write an essay over several days.
If I stop, I can lose the thread completely. I can go to the loo, come back and have totally lost my thought process…like..where on earth was I going with that head scratching confused type moment!
So I do it in one go.
Always have.
I used to feel so much shame about that.
Weeks to complete something… and I’d leave it until the last minute.
Now?
I understand it.
That last-minute energy = dopamine + adrenaline.
So instead of fighting it for weeks…
I work with it.
And guess what?
It gets done.
Learning environments matter too
Head → screen → page?
Hard.
Really hard.
So I ask for slides in advance.
Because trying to listen, process, and write at the same time? Overwhelm central.
And long, text-heavy PowerPoints?
If someone stands there reading them out…
I switch off.
Completely.
I want:
Visual prompts
Examples
Discussion
Engagement
Not something I could have just read at home.
Movement, fidgeting & being allowed to be me
I fidget.
I move.
I need breaks.
And when that’s welcomed instead of shut down?
Everything changes.
That’s why my workshops and teaching are neuro-affirming.
You can move.
Fidget.
Sit how you want.
Use what you need.
Because that’s how learning actually happens for many of us.
The biggest shift
The biggest shift wasn’t the pens or the paper.
It was this:
Realising there was nothing wrong with me.
I just learn differently.
Since then?
I’ve completed:
CPCAB Level 2
Level 3
Level 4 (2 years)
A counselling degree alongside it
Bessel Va De Kolks Trauma course
Rewind therapy
Couples
Solution focused
Single session therapy
Children & young people
Sexual abuse training
Narcissistic relationship & domestic abuse trainings
Groups & workshop training
Creative interventions pathway
Clinical supervision training
IFS
TA
Coaching
Sex & kink therapy
Inner child
And so so so many other trainings since.
Thats not to be big headed, although I am proud! Its to share with you that this only happened because one incredible professor showed me another way.
She introduced me to different learning styles and Cornell note-taking.
That was my turning point.
Why I share this
Because I wish someone had told me sooner.
You’re not lazy.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not “too much”.
You just haven’t been shown what works for your brain yet.
And when you find it?
Everything changes.
You don’t just cope.
You start to enjoy learning.
And that’s exactly why I share this loud and proud.
Because there is another way.
And you’re absolutely capable of finding yours.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
Just to be really transparent, I’ll pop some links to the bits I use, and they’ll be Amazon affiliate links, so I may earn a small commission if you choose to buy through them. Absolutely no pressure though, and I always say shop around, a bargain is a brilliant little dopamine hit in itself 😄 I’ve tried the cheaper versions of things like S-Gel pens before and honestly… they ended up costing me more because they just didn’t hit the same. So for me, S-Gels, Mildliners and Sharpies are pretty much non-negotiable at this point… unless someone has a hidden gem they want to recommend 🤣
s gel pens set 12 - https://amzn.to/4c6Wga4
S gel pens set 3 - https://amzn.to/48lBfY1
Sakura Pigma Micron Black & Gold Edition fineliner set | 6 sizes, black - https://amzn.to/4bWGwrk
Pigma Sakura Micron Wallet - 6 - Black - https://amzn.to/4vg5J7x
SAKURA Pigma Micron 05 Fineliner Set of 9 Colors | Waterproof Ink, Size 05 (0.45 mm) | Pens for Writing, Drawing & Journaling - https://amzn.to/4siXEfK
Sharpie Permanent Markers | Fine Point | Assorted Fun Colours | 18 Count - https://amzn.to/4sYplfb
Sharpie Glam Pop Permanent Markers | Fine Point for Bold Details | Assorted Vibrant Colours | 24 Marker Pens - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CV64LWDR/ref=cm_sw_r_as_gl_api_gl_i_VN11JK88M2EDXMDE6YP2?linkCode=ml1&tag=louisemalya02-21&linkId=8ff550f063d19f0eba9eceb81a44693c
Sharpie Permanent Markers | Ultra Fine Point for Precise Marks | Assorted Colours | 12 Marker Pens - https://amzn.to/3OmZzSF
Zebra Pen MILDLINER Dual Tip Fluorescent Highlighter Pens, Pastel Highlighter Pens For Adults, Broad & Fine Tip Markers & Highlighters For Many Uses, Double Ended Highlighters, 5 Pk - Assorted Colours -
Stand up pencil cases
https://amzn.to/4bXAbfd - cat
https://amzn.to/4me7ZZ0 - unicorn
https://amzn.to/4vbpJIx - kawaii cup
https://amzn.to/3NPldPl 2 pack
Dotted journals
https://amzn.to/3Qr9d7h Pocket a6
https://amzn.to/41gI89g Rimgbound a4
https://amzn.to/4slqrQW Ringbound b5
Moleskin
Acrlic markers
Watercolour pens
The Guilt Gap (or… why I thought I was failing everyone when actually I wasn’t)
Reading Steven Bartlett post got me thinking….
I wasn’t on a plane across five continents.
But I have had those days, and weeks, where life feels just as full, just as pulled in every direction.
Work.
Clients.
Family.
My husband.
My children.
The dogs.
The house.
Myself (somewhere in there… supposedly).
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, that familiar feeling creeps in.
Guilt.
Not just a little bit either, the layered kind.
The “I haven’t replied to that message.”
The “I should have called.”
The “I’ve not been present enough.”
The “I said I’d do that and I haven’t.”
The “shit, I didnt blog last week.”
The “I’m doing well in one area but dropping the ball in another.”
And if you’ve got ADHD like me, that guilt can get amplified.
Because when I lock into something, work, writing, creating, supporting clients, I lock in.
Everything else goes quiet.
Not because I don’t care.
Not because it doesn’t matter.
But because my brain has gone, “Right, this is the thing now.”
And everything else gets muted until something, or someone, brings it back into focus.
Which can often look like:
“Why haven’t you replied?”
“You’ve gone quiet.”
“Are you okay?”
Cue… more guilt.
I started really thinking about this recently.
Because how is it possible to be doing meaningful work, showing up for people, building a life you care about…
And still feel like you’re somehow failing at it?
Part of it, I think, is that we’re trying to meet expectations that don’t actually exist in the way we think they do.
We carry this invisible pressure to be everything, all at once, at 100%.
Present partner.
Available mum.
Reliable friend.
Consistent professional.
Organised human.
Self-care guru who drinks water and stretches daily (I mean… let’s not get carried away).
It’s too much.
And when everything feels like it needs 100%, we end up feeling like we’re giving 50% everywhere.
Which then feeds the guilt.
But here’s something I’ve been gently learning, and it’s changed things for me.
There’s often a gap between what people actually need from us… and what we think they need from us.
I call it the guilt gap.
For example, I might think:
“I haven’t spent enough time with my husband.”
When actually, what he needs is connection, not hours of perfectly planned time.
A chat.
A laugh.
A moment of being together.
I might think:
“I haven’t been a good enough friend.”
When actually, what matters is a message that says, “I’m thinking of you.”
Not a three-hour catch-up I’ve been putting off because I can’t find the “perfect” time.
Same with family.
Same with myself.
And this is something I talk about in therapy a lot too.
Because many of us are holding ourselves to standards that are not only unrealistic, they’re unnecessary.
When we strip it back, what people often need is much simpler.
Consistency over perfection.
Connection over quantity.
Presence over pressure.
And when we understand that, something shifts.
The guilt softens.
We stop avoiding things because they feel too big.
And we start doing the small things that actually matter.
A message.
A check-in.
A cup of tea together.
A moment of eye contact.
Those “little” things are often the big things.
And this isn’t about lowering standards or not caring.
It’s about being realistic.
Human.
Kind to ourselves.
Because the truth is, life isn’t lived in neat boxes.
It’s messy.
It overlaps.
It pulls us in different directions.
And we’re allowed to navigate that imperfectly.
So these days, I try to ask myself:
What actually matters here?
What does this person really need from me?
What do I need?
Not the 100% version.
The real version.
And more often than not… it’s less than I thought.
Which means I can actually show up more.
Less guilt.
More presence.
And a lot more breathing space in between.
If you relate to this, you’re not alone.
And you’re probably doing better than you think.
Stay safe, stay connected, take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
Link to Steven Bartlett’s mentioned post - https://www.facebook.com/share/1E6LVDRB5h/?mibextid=wwXIfr
Mother’s Day Is Coming....and It’s Complicated
Mother’s Day is two days away.
This will be my first one without my mum.
And I’ll be honest, the reminders have been brutal. The emails. The adverts. The cheerful prompts telling me it’s time to order the perfect card. The ones from Moonpig especially seem to find their way into my inbox with relentless enthusiasm.
“Don’t forget Mum.”
If only it were that simple.
Grief has a strange way of sneaking up in everyday moments. I still find myself going to pick up the phone to tell her something. Something funny, something annoying, something ordinary.
Then there’s that split second where reality catches up.
People who have lived with this for years will know that feeling well.
And Mother’s Day doesn’t only hold grief for people who have lost their mums. It can bring up so many different kinds of loss.
For those whose mums are no longer here.
For those who are estranged.
For those who longed to become mothers but couldn’t.
For those grieving complicated relationships.
For those parenting without the support they needed themselves.
It’s everywhere this time of year.
Love, yes.
But also loss.
Grief has many shapes. Sometimes we grieve someone who has died. Sometimes we grieve someone who is still alive but cannot be the parent we needed. Sometimes we grieve the relationship we wish we had.
In therapy we often call this unfinished business, the feelings, conversations, or questions that never quite had a place to land.
That’s something we can gently explore together.
Not to fix it. Grief isn’t something that gets fixed.
But to make space for it.
To understand it.
To say the things that were never said.
To hold the love and the pain at the same time.
Because that’s often what grief actually is.
Love with nowhere obvious to go.
Mother’s Day can also feel particularly confusing when you have children of your own.
You’re grieving your mum.
And at the same time you’re someone else’s mum.
Those emotions can sit right next to each other, pride, sadness, love, longing, and they can feel like they’re fighting for space.
I’m still figuring out what this weekend looks like for me.
Right now, what I know is this:
I’ll see my children.
I’ll honour my mum in whatever way feels right in the moment.
I’ll probably spend time with the puppies, because being their pup mumma counts too.
And I had a conversation with my husband about all of this. I explained that I genuinely don’t know how I’m going to feel on the day.
His response was exactly what I needed to hear.
He said he’d meet me wherever I am at. That he wouldn’t expect anything, wouldn’t push anything. That he’d simply wait for me to say what I needed, and if I wanted him there, he’d come with me.
Sometimes the greatest kindness someone can offer is simply not trying to fix it.
Just being there.
Today is Friday, and after a couple of early morning clients I’ve given myself the rest of the day gently. Crafting. Walking the dogs. Maybe a gym swim. Moules and chips for dinner.
If I do all of it, some of it, or none of it…
That’s okay.
You can’t plan grief.
You can only meet it as it comes.
If this weekend feels heavy for you too, a few gentle things that might help:
Take a break from the constant reminders if you need to.
Step outside, nature has a quiet way of holding us when emotions feel big.
Write a letter to the person you miss, even if it’s just for you.
Light a candle.
Cook their favourite meal.
Tell a story about them.
Or simply rest.
However you feel on the day is allowed.
Right now, just knowing that feels like enough.
Take gentle care of yourselves this weekend.
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
Neurodivergent? The grief we don't talk about.
There’s a kind of grief around neurodivergence that people don’t often talk about.
Not because we don’t love neurodivergent minds.
Not because we don’t see the brilliance.
But because the world still has a very narrow idea of what success is supposed to look like.
Exam results.
Top sets.
Predicted grades.
University pathways.
A constant language of “achievement”.
And if you don’t fit neatly into that system, it can leave a mark.
I know that feeling personally.
At school I struggled to revise and learn the way other people seemed able to. I could understand things, think deeply about things, talk about things, yet when it came to sitting down and revising or showing it on paper, something just didn’t work the same way.
From the outside people saw an intelligent person.
Which meant the response was often:
“Just get on with it.”
“You’re making a fuss.”
“You’re capable, stop overthinking.”
When people think you’re intelligent but you’re struggling anyway, the assumption is that you’re not trying hard enough.
That’s where the shame creeps in.
Because how do you explain something you can’t fully explain yourself?
How do you put words to the frustration of knowing your brain works… just not always in the way the system expects?
Processing speed matters in exams.
The bell rings before the work is finished.
The test ends before the thoughts are fully down on paper.
The class moves on while your brain is still carefully piecing together step one.
So you try harder.
You push.
You mask.
You pretend you’re fine.
And often you carry that quiet feeling of being less than, even when you know deep down that isn’t true.
When I speak to parents of neurodivergent children now, I sometimes see a very particular emotional landscape.
They adore their child. They see their strengths, their creativity, their kindness, their unique way of seeing the world.
But alongside that pride there can also be a quiet ache.
Because the world keeps measuring success using a ruler that was never designed for their child’s mind.
So when other families are celebrating top grades, scholarships and academic prizes, sometimes the celebrations look different.
You celebrate resilience.
You celebrate perseverance.
You celebrate the courage it takes to walk back into school tomorrow and try again.
Those things rarely appear on certificates.
And sometimes when you want to proudly show a piece of work your child has done, there’s that tiny pause inside.
Because comparison sits in the room even when nobody says a word.
For some parents there’s another layer too.
They recognise pieces of their own childhood in what their child is experiencing. The same struggles. The same misunderstandings. The same comments about “trying harder”.
When we hold our babies for the first time, we quietly hope the world will be kinder to them than it was to us.
That school will understand them better.
And when the same patterns start appearing, that can bring its own kind of ache.
Psychology actually has words for these emotional spaces.
One is ambiguous loss, a type of grief where nothing has physically gone, but expectations or imagined futures shift over time.
Another is chronic sorrow, which describes waves of sadness that come and go across the years, often triggered by moments like exam seasons, school reports or parents’ evenings.
Both can sit alongside enormous love and pride.
Because these feelings are not opposites.
You can love someone completely as they are.
And still feel sadness about the systems they have to navigate.
I also know now that the things I once felt ashamed of weren’t flaws.
They were differences.
And those differences shaped the work I do today, the patience I have with people, the curiosity about how minds work, and the refusal to reduce someone’s worth to a grade or a neat definition of success.
Our children, and the adults they become, are not the problem.
The problem is a world that still struggles to recognise intelligence, creativity, empathy and resilience when they appear in forms it didn’t expect.
And one day, hopefully, we’ll learn to measure those things too.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
Mum. A tribute on international women's day.
A Tribute to My Mum
3.9.59 – 14.9.25
I felt compelled to write an extra blog today. A real personal reflection. It being international women’s day. To the woman who shaped my life.
There are some people in life whose influence never really leaves. Even when they’re no longer physically here, they remain woven into everything you are.
For me, that person is my mum.
I am here because of her. Not just in the obvious sense of life itself, but in the deeper ways too. The way I see the world. The way I care about people. The way I show up for others.
Her legacy lives quietly in so much of what I do.
She believed in people. She believed in kindness. She believed that when someone is struggling, the most powerful thing you can offer is to simply be there, to listen, to support, to care.
One of the last things she said to me has stayed with me every single day since.
Never stop supporting those who need you. We get it. Be what we didn’t have.
That conversation held so much.
It’s about compassion.
It’s about understanding pain without turning away from it.
It’s about using our experiences to create something better for others.
Those words sit at the heart of the work I do. Every client I sit with, every conversation, every moment of care, she is part of that. Her influence lives on in ways she may never have fully realised. She was so proud of me. Of all her 3 children actually. And we knew it.
I am endlessly grateful for her.
Grateful for the love she gave, the lessons she taught, and the strength she showed. Grateful that a piece of her continues through the way I live, the way I work, and the way I try to show up in the world. In awe of her story and journey. Of our story and journey. Of the strength and courage she passed to me, and my siblings. She drummed into each other we only have each other, to sort it out & forgive quickly when necessary. Between us, we have always practiced this. Our love is strong. Thank you mum.
Love like that doesn’t disappear.
It carries forward.
So this is for you, Mum.
Thank you for everything you gave me. Gave us.
Thank you for shaping the person I am.
Thank you for trusting me to carry those values forward.
Your legacy lives on.
Love you Mum.
Until next time
Don’t forget.
Louise x
International Women’s Day (and a Bump on My Head)
Today is International Women's Day.
And like many things in life, it has had me reflecting.
On the incredible women I’m surrounded by, clients, counsellors, friends, family. Women who carry more than most people ever see. Women who keep going through grief, trauma, motherhood, menopause, loss, joy, growth, work, relationships and everything else life throws at them.
I am endlessly proud of them.
Not in a distant, professional way. In a real way.
Because here’s something people don’t always realise about therapists.
Yes, we think about our clients outside the therapy room.
Not in an intrusive or unhealthy way. Not in a “they take over our lives” way. Just in a human way.
When you sit with someone week after week while they unpack parts of their life that they may never have said out loud before… they matter. Their story matters. Their growth matters.
If someone tells me they did something brave that week, set a boundary, spoke their truth, rested when they needed to, I feel proud of them.
And I tell them.
Often.
Because hearing “I’m proud of you” can be life changing if you’ve rarely heard it before.
Therapy, for me, isn’t about sitting silently pretending I’m a blank slate. It’s relational. It’s human. If something is brilliant, I’ll say it. If something is hard, messy, or, let’s be honest…. a bit shit, I’ll say that too.
Not with judgement. With honesty.
I adore this work.
And today, while we’re celebrating women, I also want to acknowledge the men.
The men who come to therapy and sit down opposite me, sometimes with visible discomfort because society hasn’t always made it easy for them to talk about feelings. The men who push through that anyway. The men who cry, reflect, question themselves, and grow.
What a privilege that is.
It’s also a day that reminds me of the men in my life, the ones who support, encourage, listen, laugh, and occasionally shake their heads at my endless stream of ideas.
Celebrating women doesn’t mean excluding men. It means recognising strength, resilience and humanity wherever it shows up.
And for me, that shows up every single day in my work.
Clients who think they’re “not doing very well” when in reality they’re doing something incredibly brave, facing themselves.
Counsellor colleagues who support each other, challenge each other, lift each other up.
Friends who show up in the messy middle of life.
Family who love us through all our chapters.
We don’t celebrate each other enough. We don’t say the things we feel out loud often enough.
So I try to.
If I’m proud of someone, I’ll say it.
If someone inspires me, I’ll say it.
If someone has done something difficult, I’ll recognise it.
Communication matters. Appreciation matters.
And modelling that is part of how I work too.
Because when people feel seen and valued, something shifts inside them.
Today, however, I’m celebrating in a very glamorous way.
I’m out walking with my husband and the puppies… with a rather impressive bump on my head from cleaning out a cupboard yesterday. Apparently housework is now officially hazardous to my health.
So I’ve decided the safest option today is fresh air, dogs, sunshine if we’re lucky, and appreciating the people around me.
Which feels very fitting.
To all the incredible women, and the supportive men, in my world and beyond:
I see you.
I’m proud of you.
And I’m grateful for you.
Stay safe.
Stay connected.
And take gentle care.
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
World Book Day: The Stories That Hold Us
Some books don’t just sit on a shelf.
They sit beside us in life.
One of mine is Always Remember: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, the Horse and the Storm, by Charlie Mackesy
If you know it, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
Those four friends, the boy, the mole, the fox and the horse, wandering through wild landscapes together, navigating storms, friendship, kindness and cake.
Simple on the surface.
Profound underneath.
There’s a page I come back to again and again. The one about patience. About how shouting at a flower won’t make it bloom.
What a message that is.
Because so many of us speak to ourselves in ways we would never speak to anyone else.
Harsh.
Impatient.
Critical.
And when that same tone shows up in relationships, with partners, friends, colleagues, something very predictable happens.
People become defensive.
Because anger and harshness rarely help anything grow. They usually just make people pull their petals in a little tighter.
Therapy, with me, and for me, is the opposite of that.
It’s about meeting people exactly where they are.
Sometimes someone walks into the room and slams their trauma on the coffee table with a bang.
Sometimes it can’t even come through the door yet.
Both are completely okay.
And creativity in therapy doesn’t always look the way people imagine. It’s not always paints, sand trays or craft.
Sometimes creativity looks like:
A coffee at the breakfast bar.
A walk in the woods.
Talking about a favourite book.
Music that means something.
Lyrics that hit a nerve.
Even what someone likes to eat.
Those things tell stories too.
That’s one of the reasons this book resonates so deeply with me. It arrived in my life at a time when I needed patience and gentleness with myself, and the artwork alone feels calming. It’s beautiful in that quiet way that lets you breathe for a moment.
It lives on my bedside table.
I refer to it often.
Sometimes I don’t even open it, just knowing it’s there is comforting.
Books can do that.
They hold us.
I’ve always been a reader. The kind who loves nothing more than curling up with a good book. My taste is fairly eclectic, wartime sagas, gritty thrillers, and everything in between.
Right now I’m reading The midwifes confession by Diane Chamberlain. Its a story full of moral and ethical dilemmas that really makes you think.
And I’ve just finished most of the Railway Girls series by Maisie Thomas. I’ve deliberately saved the last one for later in the spring. There’s something about those wartime stories, the camaraderie, the friendship, the resilience, that pulls me right into that world.
Connection again.
Friendship again.
Stories of people getting through hard things together.
(There’s a theme here 😉)
And of course there’s always a textbook or work-related book on the go as well. It brings me richness and fullness to learn, grow & know the impact this can have on the people I work with.
My love of books started young. Really young.
I was reading Catherine Cookson in primary school! Then came Judy Blume, the Point Horror series, the babysitters club and since I was young enough to remember it was the magical worlds of Enid Blyton Mallory Towers, St Clare’s, The Wishing Chair that peppered my youth. I begged my parents to let me go to boarding school!
A book voucher was the best present I could imagine. Oh the joy of the voucher with foiled inscription. The decisions on which to choose felt so important. It was, books were my world. My place to escape to. Books were safe.
Trips to the library felt like entering another universe.
I’d spend hours choosing books with my mum. Properly choosing them. The kind of choosing where the book becomes a little treasure.
For a while I felt a bit of shame about the kinds of books I loved.
Not anymore.
Books bring comfort.
They bring joy.
They take us places when we need somewhere else to go for a while.
And every time I open one, a little part of my mum is there with me.
World Book Day isn’t just about children dressing up as their favourite characters.
For me, it’s about recognising the power stories have, to comfort, to teach, to connect, to heal.
And celebrating the wonderful places they can take us.
What are you reading? When was the last time you curled up and got lost in the pages?
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
My Crystal Ball Is Broken (And My Magic Wand’s Useless Too)
I was watching a programme recently about the woman who used to dress Sarah Ferguson. One of those shows where the story unfolds through other people’s memories, opinions, interpretations. Fascinating stuff… but it got my brain ticking over.
Because while I was watching, one thought kept popping up.
How do they actually know?
We do this all the time as humans. We watch something. We hear part of a story. We observe a relationship. Then our minds start filling in the blanks like an overconfident novelist.
She must have felt this.
He clearly meant that.
They were probably thinking…
Except… were they?
Psychology calls part of this Theory of Mind, our ability to imagine what someone else might be thinking or feeling. It’s a brilliant human skill. It helps us empathise, cooperate, connect.
But here’s the tricky bit.
Sometimes we don’t use it to understand people.
We use it to guess people.
And those guesses are usually built from our own experiences, fears, wounds, and assumptions.
In relationships.
In friendships.
In families.
We become mind readers who are working with… very unreliable equipment.
Which is why I often joke with clients about my crystal ball that doesn’t work and my completely lifeless magic wand that I wish did work. Yes, shock horror, i’d love to be able to magic away my clients pain.
Honestly, I’ve tried shaking them. Shouting at them. Stamping my feet and screaming in pure frustration. Nothing.
So if mind reading doesn’t work… what actually does?
Clear, grounded communication.
Questions that aren’t loaded with accusation.
Answers that aren’t wrapped in defence.
Saying what we actually need instead of hoping someone will magically know.
Simple in principle.
Spectacularly difficult in practice.
Many of us were never taught how to do this. Some of us grew up in environments where speaking openly didn’t feel safe. Others didn’t even realise it was allowed to ask directly for what we need.
So we guess.
We assume.
We worry.
We overthink.
And round and round the mind goes.
A lot of what happens in therapy is something people often refer to as reparenting. Not in a dramatic or clinical way, but in a deeply human one.
It’s about learning the things we maybe weren’t shown.
How to sit with feelings.
How to ask questions.
How to listen.
How to understand ourselves without judgement.
And most importantly, how to see things from the client’s perspective, not my own.
Because I’m not them.
Therapy isn’t about me inserting my story into someone else’s life. It’s about stepping into their shoes as carefully as possible and saying:
Help me understand what it’s like to be you.
When someone is met with genuine curiosity, kindness and understanding, something remarkable starts to happen.
The noise quietens.
The anxiety that grows from assumptions begins to soften.
The fear of “getting it wrong” loses its grip.
The embarrassment of not knowing what to say fades.
And shame…
Well, shame, she struggles to survive in the light.
Shame. She thrives in silence, secrecy and assumptions. She needs that dark deep place within us to exist.
When we bring her into a space where someone listens, reflects, and truly sees you?
Shame doesn’t stand much of a chance out here in the sunshine.
Turns out the crystal ball was never needed after all.
Just two humans, being honest.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
The World Didn’t Fall Apart (Because I Chose the Sun)
Sometimes rebellion looks like cancelling a meeting and standing in a field with daffodils on a Wednesday.
The rain has been relentless lately.
Grey mornings. Heavy skies. That damp chill that creeps into your shoulders and seems to whisper, “Stay small. Stay inside.” For a lot of people, it’s matched how things have felt emotionally too. Darker days, metaphorically and physically. Long stretches of just getting through. I have certainly felt the impact of both.
Then today, the sun made an appearance.
Not a dramatic, cinematic entrance. Just light breaking through cloud like it had quietly decided we’d had enough.
It was Wellbeing Wednesday. And by some rare alignment of diaries, I had 2 whole hours free in the middle of the day. An hour either side of wellbeing Wednesday.
That meant…..Three hours.
Now, old programming would have said: Be productive. Catch up. Get ahead. Do admin. Fill the space.
Instead, I cancelled wellbeing Wednesday, told the truth, and went out into the sunshine with my husband and the puppies.
I told the group of therapists, 4.5k of them, exactly what I was doing. I said I was being human. That I was choosing self-care. That I was taking advantage of the light.
Why lie?
There’s something powerful about modelling boundaries instead of preaching them. As therapists, we talk about nervous system regulation, burnout, sustainability. But if we can’t occasionally say, “The sun is out and I’m going to stand in it,” what are we demonstrating?
The world did not fall apart.
It did not crumble.
Emails did not combust.
The profession did not collapse because one therapist chose sunlight.
Instead, something beautiful happened.
I invited those therapists to use the time too. To get outside if they could. To look up. To take photos. To reflect.
And the pictures that came back, stunning.
Daffodils blazing yellow against green.
Deer caught mid-step in quiet fields.
Wild garlic carpeting woodland floors.
Wide skies.
Soft light.
Early spring lambs wobbling on new legs.
There is something deeply regulating about seasonal change. Our bodies respond to light. Sun on your arms and face isn’t indulgence, it’s biology. Vitamin D shifts. Circadian rhythms recalibrate. The nervous system reads brightness as safety.
Standing there, feeling warmth on my skin after weeks of grey, I could feel how much my own system needed it.
Sometimes we forget that we are mammals before we are professionals.
Rain and darkness affect us.
Long winters, literal and emotional, take a toll.
We are not machines designed for endless output under fluorescent lighting.
Self-care isn’t always bubble baths and candles. Sometimes it’s cancelling something non-urgent because the sun has finally broken through and your body says, “Now. Go now.”
There’s also something deeper here.
So many of us have been in darker times, grief, stress, global uncertainty, personal struggles. When the light appears, even briefly, we have to let ourselves step into it. Not wait until everything is perfect. Not earn it through exhaustion.
Just step forward.
What I loved most was the collective permission. One honest admission, “I’m choosing sunshine”, opened space for others to do the same. And instead of judgement, there was beauty. Reflection. Connection.
That’s what happens when we stop pretending we’re endlessly resilient.
We show that boundaries are real.
We show that rest is responsible.
We show that prioritising ourselves doesn’t equal selfishness.
And crucially, the world doesn’t fall apart when we do.
The lambs were still there.
The daffodils were still standing.
The emails were still waiting.
Life carried on.
But I felt different.
Lighter.
More present.
More alive.
Sometimes the most radical thing you can do in a productivity-obsessed culture is stand in the sun in the middle of a Wednesday and say, “This matters.”
Dark seasons come.
Rain falls.
There are heavy times.
And then the light returns.
When it does, look up.
Step into it.
Let it land on your skin.
The work will still be there tomorrow. Wellbeing Wednesday will happen again.
And me? I feel absolutely refreshed and dare I say it? Warm & glowing.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
The world's gone mad.
I took the puppies out earlier.
Sunshine. Actual, proper sunshine. The kind that makes you squint and forgive the British weather for at least twenty minutes.
They were completely unbothered by the state of the world.
No awareness of politics.
No scrolling.
No existential dread.
Just grass. Smells. A stick that absolutely had to be carried at full speed for no clear reason.
And I stood there watching them, thinking about how many conversations I’ve had recently that begin with:
“Everything feels mad.”
“It’s all too much.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“I can’t switch off.”
Yes. It is crazy out there.
War. Cost of living. Climate anxiety. Political division. Social media shouting matches. Constant access to distressing news 24/7. Our nervous systems were not designed to process global catastrophe before breakfast.
Your brain evolved to track threats in your immediate environment, rustling bushes, tribal conflict, food scarcity. Now it’s trying to metabolise global instability from a glowing rectangle in your hand while you’re also replying to emails and remembering to defrost chicken.
Of course people feel on edge.
This doesn’t mean you’re weak.
It means you’re wired.
But here’s where the sunshine and the puppies come in.
There’s a concept in psychology called the “circle of control.” It’s simple, but powerful.
Inside the circle:
Your actions.
Your boundaries.
Your responses.
Your routines.
Your care for your own nervous system.
Outside the circle:
Global politics.
Stock markets.
Other people’s behaviour.
The weather.
The internet’s latest outrage.
When we spend too much time mentally wrestling with what’s outside our circle, our anxiety ramps up. Because the brain hates unsolved problems, and these are unsolvable at an individual level.
Standing in that sunshine, I realised something again.
The puppies were firmly inside their circle.
Warmth.
Movement.
Connection.
Curiosity.
That doesn’t mean we ignore reality. It means we balance awareness with regulation.
A few gentle strategies I share with clients when the world feels overwhelming:
Limit your intake. You are allowed to be informed without being saturated. Choose when and how you consume news. Not first thing. Not last thing. Your nervous system deserves bookends of safety.
Name what is yours. Literally say, “This is outside my control.” It sounds simple. It works because it helps your brain categorise the threat.
Ground physically. Sunshine. Fresh air. Cold water on your wrists. Walking the dog. Moving your body. The nervous system resets through the body, not through overthinking.
Create micro-stability. Small daily anchors: morning coffee ritual, evening walk, a playlist, lighting a candle. Predictability calms the brain when the world feels unpredictable.
Look up. I mean that quite literally. When we’re anxious, our posture folds in and our gaze drops to screens. Lift your eyes. Take in the sky. Your brain reads open space as safety.
And maybe most importantly, connect. Anxiety thrives in isolation. Talk about what’s coming up for you. You don’t have to carry global fear alone.
It is wild out there.
But you are allowed to experience warmth.
You are allowed to laugh at your dog being ridiculous.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to focus on your circle.
Standing there in the sunshine today, I thought: this is resistance too.
Regulating your nervous system in chaotic times isn’t avoidance.
It’s strength.
It’s sustainability.
It’s how we stay steady enough to show up well in the parts of the world we can influence.
The world may be spinning.
But right now, there is sunlight somewhere.
There is fresh air.
There is something within your circle that you can tend to.
Start there.
Even the puppies know that’s enough for today.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
This image, and Punch’s story, stopped me.
Those viral clips of him sitting alone, clutching his little orange teddy like it was the only thing in the world he could trust. Watching the troop from a distance. Not quite in. Not quite out. Just… surviving.
And now? He’s inching closer.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Not “fixed.”
Just a few inches nearer than yesterday.
For a Japanese macaque, where hierarchy matters and belonging is everything, that’s not small. That’s courage.
And honestly? It made me think about us.
Trauma and the Nervous System: Sitting on the Edge of the Group
When humans experience trauma, abandonment, neglect, loss, abuse, chronic stress, our nervous systems adapt to survive.
Sometimes that looks like:
Sitting on the edge of relationships
Watching but not joining
Clutching tightly to the one thing that feels safe
Trusting objects more than people
Staying hyper-aware of everyone’s movements
We might look “fine.”
We might even function well.
But internally, we’re sitting slightly apart from the troop.
Punch holding his teddy isn’t weakness.
It’s regulation.
That toy is his safety cue. His nervous system anchor. The one thing that says, I’m not completely alone.
Humans do this too.
We hold onto coping strategies. Routines. Busyness. Work. A relationship. A therapist. Sometimes even anxiety itself, because at least it’s familiar.
And here’s the important part:
We don’t rip the teddy away.
Therapy Isn’t Forcing You Into the Circle
In therapy, we don’t drag someone into the middle of the group and say, “You’re safe now. Behave like it.”
That would overwhelm the nervous system.
Instead, we sit with you while you hold the teddy.
We let your body learn, slowly, that connection doesn’t equal danger.
We co-regulate.
We notice.
We pause.
We go at your pace.
Little by little, your nervous system begins to update.
You inch closer.
Not because someone pushed you.
Not because you “should.”
But because something inside feels just a tiny bit safer.
That’s healing.
The Quiet Privilege of Being a Therapist
There’s something deeply humbling about this work.
We often don’t see what happens next.
There isn’t a dramatic reunion scene.
No standing ovation.
No final episode where everything wraps up beautifully.
Sometimes it’s just a wave.
A goodbye.
A “thank you.”
And then you go back to your troop.
You build friendships.
You leave a relationship that wasn’t safe.
You start speaking up.
You apply for the job.
You rest.
You belong.
We don’t always get to witness the full circle forming.
But what a privilege it is to have sat beside you while you were still holding the teddy.
Not for us.
For you.
Joining Your Own Tribe
Punch isn’t fully inside the circle yet.
But he’s not outside of it anymore either.
That’s everything.
Belonging doesn’t roar.
It inches.
And maybe that’s what therapy is really about, not changing who you are, but helping your nervous system feel safe enough to join your tribe.
To find:
Your people
Your spaces
Your version of safety
Your own “teddy” … healthy, grounding, supportive
And maybe even a therapist who truly gets you.
Because when you feel understood, something softens.
You don’t have to perform.
You don’t have to fight for position.
You don’t have to sit quite so far away.
You can move a little closer.
And sometimes, a few inches closer than yesterday is the bravest thing you’ll ever do. 🐒✨
stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
If this resonates, you’re not on your own.
Pull up a chair.
I've got you.
If you’re tired of carrying it alone, I’m here.
We can take it at your pace. No pressure. No fixing. Just space to be human.
📧 louisemalyancounselling@gmail.com
🌐 www.wildfirecounsellingtherapy.co.uk
Free, no-obligation intro chat, just to see if we’re the right fit.
