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The door opens and I am met with a smiling, welcoming face. Seems there is no going back now. My first counselling session is about to begin.  I follow the counsellor up the stairs and into the room: an unfamiliar, but hopeful space. The voices of those that have been before, now absorbed and swallowed. Ready and waiting for the new, and so far, unheard. The potential for what may follow.   I notice a flicker of apprehension, of panic even. What if I forget what I’m here to t

My mother spoke of ‘the change of life’                                                                                      What change? I couldn’t see anything. Nevertheless, I decided I didn’t want to change thank you very much.   Ageing and menopause: carried around in an unopened bag, waiting for its unruly arrival. A bit like a silent veil, that can often surround us in relation to death and mortality. It’s there, but we choose not to look.   Perhaps there are stirrings

We say in counselling that everything is grist for the mill Well, I sit here waiting for my beloved pet's blood test results, contemplating the outcomes and staring into the void that lies ahead. Reflecting on the impact of pet loss, iI am aware of this being something that comes across as a whisper in the counselling room, An echo of something that is not always outwardly spoken, but resting underneath, in the cellars. I believe that over time our views and opinions are cha