Tag Archives: bpd

Rooting Compassion

When I was little, but big enough to know that owning a pony of my own was out of the question, I was promised a pet when we got a bigger place. The house was on the market, in the … Continue reading

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Square One

Spin the clock back a few years. I am spending a morning in Fenwick’s (erstwhile, delightful department store in West London) with my mother. We go to their cafe. I have orange juice. I want orange juice in a carton. … Continue reading

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Inside out

The first time I went away from home, I was eleven. Eleven years-old is far too old to go away overnight for the first time. I wasn’t just going away overnight. I was going away for four nights, over a … Continue reading

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The scars remain

“the trees are the same through all the sorrowful people who have passed under them, that the stars remain” Sylvia Plath, Letters Home [CONTENT WARNING: SELF HARM] I can’t remember a time when I didn’t bite or scratch or pick at my skin; … Continue reading

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Acknowledgement

Well, that’s annoying, isn’t it? I understand that. My brother, on the ‘phone to his partner this weekend. It was her who was running late; him unafraid to express how that made him feel; her validating that. Validation is something … Continue reading

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Comfy Slippers

One of my housemates has a (shall we say) older pair of slippers with a hole in the toe. The lining is coming away in places. They look rather  battered and sorry for themselves. And yet, they are (or so … Continue reading

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Rocking fragility

Each week in the Therapeutic Community, we have half an hour when we all fall silent. Not for personal reflection and prayer (although I struggle to resist a temptation to this) but to allow for creativity of some form. One … Continue reading

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