Nashville Trip 2024

This post is so very late (and believe me, there are posts that are even later than this…) but with the brain fog and chronic fatigue and everything going on over the last eighteen months and change, I never managed to finish it. Until now. I have finally finished it. There are multiple posts over the last couple of years that I have abandoned because I was struggling to finish them and after a while, they didn’t feel relevant anymore. But this trip was so special and brought me so much joy that I wanted to finish and post it, especially since I’m not sure when I’ll be back…


I don’t think I planned this trip particularly well, if I’m completely honest. I ended up with far too much time at the beginning of the trip – when I was really struggling with being away from home and away from Izzy – with not enough to do and then the end was very chaotic, trying to get as many things done as possible before I had to go. So it wasn’t ideal, for my anxiety or my energy levels.

Originally, I’d planned to arrive later and stay later but I’d shifted the trip when I learned that Song Suffragettes was celebrating their ten year anniversary. I’ve only played one Song Suffragettes show myself but I’ve been to many shows over the years, in person and online, and met some amazing people through it so I thought it would be fun to go and celebrate with them; the previous anniversary shows had been a lot of fun with amazing songwriters and special guests. But a couple of weeks after I’d bought the tickets and changed my flight, my friend and one of the original Song Suffragettes, Kalie Shorr, shared her feelings about the event and the organisation on Twitter

got an email with a discount code to buy tickets the Song Suffragettes 10 year anniversary show, even though I spent 8 years helping build it and played 300+ (unpaid) shows […] I’ve stayed silent long enough, and I just don’t care anymore. I gave so much of my time, cared so deeply, and have been completely written out of the history even though I had played since the very first show they ever had.” 

I was – and still am – appalled at how they’ve treated her and, I imagine, many other young women. I feel especially bad for Kalie (and the other original/early Song Suffragettes who put in so much unpaid work to get this organisation off the ground and build its core fanbase) who had put so much work and time and love into Song Suffragettes for so long. Her photos were still being used (although they’ve since been taken off the website) and videos of her performances are still on their YouTube channel, promoting their shows (one of her videos is their most popular video by far – over a million views compared to less than two hundred thousand) and yet her vital part in their story has been deliberately omitted. The event (and, of course, the whole organisation) was instantly soured and I spent a long time deciding what to do, whether to go to the event or not. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have gone but having bought the tickets and rescheduled my flight to go, I felt that I couldn’t just skip it. And part of me was curious to see how they’d handle the event. So I decided that I would go and then personally (and publicly) say goodbye to the organisation.

My Mum and I flew out to Nashville early in the morning after a long day recording drums for the EP that I’m now, in 2025, in the middle of promoting and releasing. I was exhausted and I hate flying – I find it to be a sensory nightmare – but we got there safe and sound and settled into our accommodation. The Song Suffragettes show was the next night and I immediately noticed how different the vibe was from the previous anniversary shows I’d been able to attend. I feel confident in my assumption that the majority of attendees were there to see the ‘special guest,’ Wynonna Judd. I don’t emphasise the term special guest to undermine the impact Wynonna Judd has had on the music industry: she is a very impressive guest but rather than rounds of Song Suffragettes with a special guest or two, as had been the case at previous anniversary shows, this show was basically all special guests. They’d invited Liz Rose, Laura Veltz, Maddie & Tae, and Tenille Arts to name just a few; there were very few actual Song Suffragettes and no mention of the original and early performers who had worked so incredibly hard to make Song Suffragettes what it is today. That pissed me off. What was supposed to be a celebration of the organisation, ten years of achievements, and the women who’ve performed on their stages felt like it had very little to do with any of those things. It felt like a Wynonna Judd tribute night with the actual Wynonna Judd headlining, plus what I found to be a pretty uncomfortable amount of fawning over Todd Cassetty, the founder of Song Suffragettes. (I have more thoughts about that and about Song Suffragettes but that’s not the point of this post.)

The tenth anniversary celebration of @songsuffragettes was packed full of incredible female songwriters and artists 💛  The performances were amazing and I’m grateful to have been given the opportunity to see these women play live but I was more than a little sad not to see more of a nod to the organisation’s history and the women who were and still are so fundamental to what it has become. I would’ve loved to see more of these women, such as the brilliant @kalieshorr, at least mentioned for the amount of passion and work they’ve put into the shows over the years. My best wishes to Song Suffragettes and to every individual Song Suffragette – here’s to another decade of successes 💛💛💛 (x)

I struggled with how to caption my post about the event – how to acknowledge what it has given me and a lot of young women, how to share my disappointment in how the original members (particularly Kalie – yes, I keep mentioning her but she’s a friend so, of course, I’m going to be firmly in her corner) had been treated, and how to say goodbye to Song Suffragettes, even if that part was just for me). This was what I came up with. I wasn’t completely sure about it but felt it was the best my jetlagged brain could come up with. Apparently it was good enough though, since Kalie shared it on Instagram with her thanks for calling out the rewriting of Song Suffragettes’ history; that reassured me of my desire to say something publicly.

Had that been a more positive experience, I think I would’ve felt (and functioned) better during the less structured days before the festival and my various plans started. My mental health had already been in a downward spiral before I left and that unallocated time only made it worse: my depression and anxiety were really awful and I had multiple very distressing meltdowns. I also found it much harder to adjust than I have in the past: my sensory difficulties, for example, were much worse than usual and the differences between home and Nashville felt so amplified that I felt constantly overwhelmed and exhausted. By the end of the trip, I was so overstimulated by the BEDSHEETS that I was sleeping on the sofa (which wasn’t much better, to be honest – another night and I probably would’ve been sleeping on the floor).

But having said all of that, I’d been so busy in the weeks leading up to the flight out – meetings, meltdowns, concerts, therapy, migraines, recording sessions, and more – that it was probably good to have some recovery time before jumping into Tin Pan South and all of my other plans. My Mum and I spent the days resting and doing some of our favourite Nashville things, all of which were wonderfully gentle and joyful…

  • The Pancake Pantry – As I’ve repeatedly talked about on this blog, I have immense trouble with eating in public places (and eating in general) but I love The Pancake Pantry in Nashville. There are multiple dishes that I not only can eat but actually really enjoy eating, especially their Chocolate Sin pancakes (pictured below). And since I (obviously) rarely get the opportunity to have them, we always make sure to go multiple times and I only enjoy them more every time. 
  • The Candle Bar – One of my favourite Nashville traditions is to go to The Candle Bar, where you can make your own candles: you choose the container, the scent, and then mix it with the wax. They do the last step of setting it. Before my first visit, I’d never found a candle that I could tolerate but I fell in love with their Pink Pepper Grapefruit scent (at some point, it became an ‘autumn scent’ and it wasn’t an available choice at the time of our trips but we’d explain my sensitivity and how far we’ve travelled and they’ve always been kind enough to get it out for us, which I so appreciate – I love it and find it really helpful when I’m having an anxious day). On this trip, I also discovered their Mandarin Mango scent and fell in love with that too; we ended up treating ourselves and going twice. It was a struggle to get them home since they’re not exactly light but I’m so grateful we came back with double our usual number of candles, given that I’m not sure when I’ll be back. 
  • Chocolate Brownie at The Commodore Grille – Almost as much as I love the Chocolate Sin pancakes, I LOVE the chocolate brownie at The Commodore Grille (again, pictured below). They’re incredible, with ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. if I wasn’t supposedly a responsible grown up, I could live on these brownies, as well as the pancakes, of course. 

(Left: Chocolate Sin pancakes and hash browns at The Pancake Pantry // Middle: me, making my candle // Right: the chocolate brownie at The Commodore Grille)

I also did some gentle songwriting: I didn’t push myself too hard though; it was just for fun and decompression and continuing to work out my feelings about the still very recent, very traumatic ending of my time at therapy. I spent a lot of my ‘rest time’ (the irony of this does not escape me – I’m also very aware of how reflective of my resting skills this is) writing up what had happened for a blog post, getting the experience out of my system and into a format that made it feel (a little bit) easier to engage with. I also managed to sign into one of my favourite poetry group’s workshops and ended up writing a poem so raw that I wasn’t actually able to read it aloud during the sharing section at the end of the session. So my feelings were all very close to the surface; I felt really vulnerable, emotionally, which in some ways made the difficult feelings of the trip harder but it also felt like I was really open and receptive to all of the positive ones. It was messy but, given the super special moments of the trip, I wouldn’t change a thing (I mean, I always wish I could see more of my favourite people but I feel incredibly grateful to have gotten the time that I did). 

The other non-music part of the trip that I still think about with great fondness were the multiple storms we got to experience. I’m sure some people will read that with confusion and/or bemusement but I LOVE thunderstorms: I love the change in air pressure; I love the colours of the clouds and peaks at the sky; I love the power of the thunder and the lightning, both such tremendous, breath-taking forces of nature; and I love the heavy, wet rain. While it’s a joke as old as time that English weather is made up of rain, rain, and more rain, the rain in Nashville is nothing like English rain. The rain where I live is mostly just annoying but the storms in Nashville (and I mean storms, not tornados) make me feel so amazingly alive and like my body could explode with joy. Each time the skies opened, I went sprinting outside; I felt a boost in my mood and mental health/stability every time I felt a storm brewing. 

(Left: Me in the rain // Right: Me in the torrential rain)

I also got to hang out and catch up with Caylan, my oldest friend in Nashville: we met on my first full day in Nashville, during my first visit in 2016, and we’ve been friends ever since. She’s truly lovely (with a very cute dog that I’ve watched grow from a little pup) and an amazing singer and songwriter. It was actually during that first trip that we wrote the first draft of a song on my upcoming EP, as well as a song that I cannot wait to release someday. We got to catch up with each other’s lives, enthuse about each other’s music, and even fit in a trip to Pancake Pantry together; it’s always such a joy to see her.

For the first time in all of my trips to Nashville, I didn’t actually attend many Tin Pan South shows. That had been my plan but then, before the schedule was announced, I found out that one of friends, Candi Carpenter, was releasing their debut album during that week and would be having a release show and party. The fact that, somehow, I was actually going to be in Nashville when that happened felt like a gift from the universe and there was no way I was going to miss that. And then, not long after, I found out that one of my other friends, Kalie (who I mentioned above and through whom I’d met Candi) would be flying into Nashville for Candi’s show and would also be playing a writers’ round while in town. I wasn’t going to miss that either. As much as I love Tin Pin South, getting the rare chance to see my incredible friends perform was always going to be my priority. 

The actual week of Tin Pan South was incredibly busy and incredibly stressful, trying to organise everything and make sure I’d be able to be everywhere I needed to be when I needed to be there; it was a logistical headache but it was worth it since I got to see everybody I’d hoped to see. First up was Kalie’s songwriters’ round. There were multiple rounds and a lot of really great songwriters and artists but Kalie is so unique: her journey, her career, her lyrical voice, the stories she tells… She really stood out; she always does (and I think that’s why she and Candi write together so well and made such great co-headline acts on tour – because they’re both so unlike anyone else and embrace that so intentionally). The first song she played was called ‘Man In Your Songs.’ She’s posted snippets of it on social media so it was really cool to finally hear the whole song. Next was ‘Running At Night,’ which she’s been playing a lot lately on social media and on livestreams; I think she’d recently finished it and was really proud of it (and rightly so). She announced that she was officially working on her second album; her debut, Open Book, remains one of my all time favourite albums and the unreleased stuff she’s been sharing has been so good so that’s very exciting news! Her final song was ‘Dirty Movies,’ which I’d actually heard before, when she’d played at Bush Hall in London on the Song Suffragettes UK Tour in October 2022. It’s more explicit than the music she’s already released and she’s definitely testing boundaries that she was held to previously, both by being signed and by being known as a Country artist. There were a few lyrics that were a bit too explicit for me but regardless of that, it’s still a very cleverly written song. I don’t think that three songs can an album reflect, especially so early in the process, but the growth and evolution in both her writing and the emotional concepts of the songs are obvious. As I said, I will always love Open Book but her second album is no doubt going to be just as bold and unique and visceral. 

It was such a treat to see her perform (one day I will see her perform her show, goddamn it) and we even got to hug and catch up briefly afterwards, which was lovely. We were also able to hang out – and fangirl – together at Candi’s release show and afterparty, as well as managing to slot in a coffee and a catch up before I flew home and Kalie, a few days later, flew back to Nashville. 

(Kalie Shorr performing at Live Oak, Music Row)

The following night was Candi’s release show and party for Demonology. The album had come out earlier in the week and I’d had it on repeat; it’s an incredible album. Back in June 2023, Candi had released Demonology – Part 1 as an EP and so I’d been expecting (and semi-patiently waiting for) a Part 2 EP but then Candi announced that the project was being released as a full album so that was very exciting! The ‘new’ songs are fantastic and fit so well with the ‘old’ songs; it’s an album that really feels like a tapestry that Candi has carefully woven to give the listener a full and intricately detailed glimpse into their life. It’s a really beautiful album with songs that span the emotional spectrum, from gut-wrenching anger and grief and vulnerability to joyful silliness, to biting self-awareness, and existential relief. I love every single song on it but I think my absolute favourites have to be ‘Exorcist,’ ‘Antisocial Butterfly,’ ‘Skinny,’ ‘Serial Killer,’ ‘Nervous System,’ ‘Back From the Dead,’ and ‘Memento Mori.’ That’s more than half of the album and even that was hard to narrow down… Listen to it: you won’t be disappointed.

For the show, there was the fun challenge of dressing up as one of the tracks but since the album didn’t come out until I was already in Nashville and I do not love shopping there, plus I had suitcase space to consider, I had to go minimal: I found a T-shirt online that said ‘ALL OF MY SYSTEMS ARE NERVOUS’ as an homage to ‘Nervous System,’ and that was good enough for me. But there were some super creative costumes – the album is (incidentally or intentionally) full of excellent imagery to take inspiration from. Having got lost on the way to the venue, the space was absolutely packed and the support act, Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers, were already on. Candi was right there at the entrance and the chaotic crowd around them was somewhere between a meet and greet and a friends and family reunion; it was a lovely vibe. As soon as they saw me, they swept me into a huge hug and we were joyfully rambling at each other about the album and how excited we were. We also took lots of pictures and Candi signed the album poster I bought with the loveliest message (getting it home safely was a challenge but we managed it). It was a super emotional night and that was just the beginning. 

I had to wedge myself in along a wall to fit into the main venue – I literally couldn’t crouch down to pick up my drink from the floor, space was that tight. But even though I’d missed part of their set, Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers were awesome and I am now a dedicated follower. Mel has an incredible voice, the whole band had such a gorgeous sound, and I just fell in love with the songs: the melodies were stunning and super catchy and the lyrics were so vivid and poignant. My favourite was ‘Wildflower’ and I downloaded the rest of their music as soon as I got home that night.

(Left: Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers, opening for Candi Carpenter’s Demonology Release Show at The Basement // Right: Candi Carpenter performing at their Demonology Release Show at The Basement)

Candi was incredible. Given the chaos and stress of release week, I wouldn’t have been overly surprised if the show had been a little rough around the edges but oh my god, it was fantastic. I can honestly say that it was probably the best live show I’ve ever seen and I still stand by that, having seen The ERAS Tour (although, of course, they’re very different animals). But the show was just SO GOOD: Candi, joined by Amanda McCoy on electric guitar and backing vocals (plus Kalie on the backing vocals for ‘Cult’ as well, one of the songs that she cowrote), is an amazing performer, with the perfect amounts of seasoned professional and emotional human being (they were trying not to cry after just the first song, as were many of us, I think – I certainly was); the songs were even more powerful live; not unlike the visualiser for ‘Strawberry Starburst,’ the performance featured a dancing pink Power Ranger who threw strawberry starburst sweets into the audience, which was hilarious; everyone knew all of the words and was singing (and sometimes screaming) along so loudly and I had great fun fangirling over Candi with Kalie (it is, after all, not that often that we are all in the same location and able to do that); everyone knowing the words to the bridge of ‘Nervous System’ (if you know, you know), which momentarily blew Candi’s mind; the lovely onstage chemistry between Candi and Amanda and the super special connection in the room, like we were all connected, to Candi and to each other; the emotional exorcism of screaming ‘Nervous System’ with joy to ‘Back From the Dead’ with fury to ‘Everybody Goes to Hell’ with peace; ‘Memento Mori’ was the perfect finale, the final lyric of the show being “I don’t wanna be another sad story.” It was just incredible and I think I went through every emotion at one point or another; it was so fucking special. By the end, Candi was so overwhelmed and emotional – in the best way – that they let themselves just collapse on the ground and lie there for a moment before getting up to address everyone one more time; then practically the whole crowd descended to hug them but we had to pack up and get out so the late show could start. A big group of us headed over to The Countrypolitan for the afterparty, which was more of a social gathering than a traditional afterparty: we got to chat (someone of us having never met in real life and only ever talked online) and hang out and hype Candi whenever they were in earshot… It was all just so joyful. I got to see a bit more of Kalie, which was really nice, given how rarely I get to see her, and I met so many lovely people. 

(Left: Candi Carpenter performing at their Demonology Release Show at The Basement // Right: Candi and I at the afterparty at The Countrypolitan)

As the space cleared out, we spread out and Candi ended up playing a few more songs acoustically, including ‘Skinny’ and a stunning cover of ‘Hallelujah.’ They were such moving performances that I was welling up all over again. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Candi is such a special human being and I feel so lucky to have met them and to have them as a friend. Writing about this show is making me emotional all over again. Excuse me while I go and watch the video I made of some of my favourite moments…

I actually got to see Candi play live AGAIN before I left, which was awesome; they texted me and asked if I wanted to come to a set they were playing at a hotel and, of course, I said yes. I so rarely get to see Candi play – see Candi at all – that I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to see them again (and sit right at the front, fangirling my little heart out). They were understandably tired from a very intense release week but they still put on an incredible show, taking cover requests from the audience and performing them beautifully with a gorgeous Candi Carpenter twist. It was a long show but Candi was brilliant and I loved every second of it. I helped pack up at the end and then Candi’s partner dropped me back on their way home, which I very much appreciated; it was really nice to see him again as well. Candi and I had hoped to meet up and just chill before I flew home but with everything that had been going on, I completely understood when they said that they were feeling really burned out and just needed to rest. I was obviously sad not to see them but we made plans to catch up over a video call once I was home and Candi had recovered somewhat. I’m so glad I got to see them as much as I did, that I got to be there for the release and celebration of Demonology; that truly felt like something that was meant to be and I’ll never forget it. 

Even getting to see my friends perform so much in such a short trip, I did manage to get to a few Tin Pan South shows, which I was really pleased about. I got to see Brittany Spencer, Jordyn Shellhart, Lori McKenna, Barry Dean, Jillian Jacqueline, Kara DioGuardi, Jeff Cohen, and GAYLE (we actually all but collided after the show ended and had a very passionate discussion about hair dye), to name just a few. I also got to see Ingrid Andress again, which is always really special because I’ve been following her since before she even put her first single out; I actually discovered her at Tin Pan South and have seen her almost every time she’s come to the UK since.

The last thing of note was that I got to do a photoshoot with Caitlin Gore, also known as Katie Mac Photography. I’d found her on TikTok when searching for autistic photographers to work with on my current music project. I thought it was probably unlikely that we’d work on the project artwork, even if we were able to work together while I was in Nashville, but I was really excited to try because I really love her work. We were in fact able to work together, despite a few stressful scheduling hiccups, and I love so many of the images we created…

Photos by Katie Mac Photography (x)

Prior to this, I’d only ever done photoshoots with people that I already knew so I knew I was going to be anxious and that it was probably going to feel weird, plus I’ve been really, really struggling with my appearance; my body image issues have gone from background noise to siren level piercing. I’d also never worked with an autistic photographer and I had no idea if or how that might affect the creative dynamic, if the vision we’d discussed for the shoot was something we were going to be able to capture to both of our satisfaction. I’m sure I was thinking much too hard about it but that is what I tend to do when I’m anxious about something: it’s like, if I can think through all of the variables, then nothing can surprise me and I can achieve the desired outcome… Anyway. Given all of the anxiety beforehand (around the booking and scheduling and planning, etc), I was very anxious when I arrived. The guy who owned the studio was lovely though: he gave us a tour and let me sit with his dog until Caitlin arrived. That did help a bit.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time – I was very constrained by budget – but we got quite a lot done and of the photos Caitlin sent me afterwards, I really liked most of them (and like them more and more over time). It helped that she was very clear, explaining what she was doing at all times and giving me instructions so that I knew what she needed from me. It was a real learning curve for me in terms of learning how to communicate in that scenario and so I got a lot more out of the session than just the photo. For example, while I love the photos in the first of two outfits against the white background, I wish we’d gotten to spend more time with the second outfit against the black background, especially with the red veil. Despite that being an idea we’d talked about quite a lot, we only got it out right at the end – something I would now ask for earlier if we were to do the session over again – so we didn’t have much time to experiment with it. I love the photos we got but I would’ve loved to get more, maybe with different colours and with different facial expressions and so on. So I got some great photos and learned SO MUCH. So it was definitely a success, even if I wasn’t as relaxed as I would have liked to be. I would absolutely recommend her as a photographer if you’re in Nashville and I’d love to work with her again whenever I next get back to Nashville. There was another space that we were both really excited about but I just couldn’t afford it this time with such short notice. But who knows what the future holds…

And that was the trip, if a little out of order and all over the place. I had some of the best experiences I’ve ever had there but it was also really, really hard so, as usual, it was a real mix emotionally but all of the good was so good that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The flight home was good, as flights go. There was a bit of a crisis about getting a coach home but eventually we were on the last leg of the journey. I was feeling absolutely terrible, seconds away from a meltdown – as I usually do by that point on the way home – but we made it home without a disaster. My little Izzy was delighted to see us and I was delighted to see her; we spent the remainder of that day snuggled up together. I was completely exhausted and although it had been (for the most part) an amazing trip, I was very relieved to be home. 


With the cost of releasing new music this year, I just couldn’t afford to make the trip and, with the way that Trump is terrorising the US, I wasn’t exactly keen on being a tourist there. When I was visiting last year, I said to my Mum, “What do you think it will be like next year? If Trump gets in?” It was a theoretical question then, a thought experiment, because I couldn’t imagine Trump getting in again and I certainly never could’ve imagined that everything that’s happening in the world right now would be happening. I worry for my friends everyday and I find it hard being so far away from them, being so unable to support them in any real way. With all of the horrifying things I see on social media, I’m so grateful that, so far, they’re all safe. And while I can’t help but worry when I see them at protests, I am so proud of them for staying true and authentic to who they are regardless of the outside pressure, for standing up for what they believe in, for using their privilege to support others, for the strength that keeps them pushing for a better world despite what often feels like impossible odds; I’m so proud to call them my friends. 

There was a lot of tough stuff and a lot of overwhelmingly hard emotions to wade through but I was and am so grateful for this trip, for all of the wonderful moments and all of the wonderful time I spent with my wonderful friends, so if it’s my last trip there for a while, it could not have been a better one. It was so incredibly special and I’ll never forget it.

Grateful 2024

TW: Mentions of therapy trauma and self harm.

I know I usually get this post up on Christmas Eve but I just haven’t been able to keep up with my old schedule this year; between the exhaustion from my erratic sleep schedule and my ADHD outdoing itself in fucking up my concentration, writing has been taking a lot of time and energy. I still love it but suddenly it’s just taking so much effort, in all forms, and that has massively slowed down my ability to finish anything. But there has been a lot to be grateful for this year and so I really wanted to get it down, no matter how long it took.


MUM – I know I specifically list my Mum on my ‘Grateful’ lists but it never becomes less true; I never become less grateful. I find more reasons with each year. The support she has given me this year, in good times and in bad, has been amazing: she made it possible for me to move through the Autism dog process, go to concerts, take up opportunities that I would never have been able to participate in otherwise. She’s supported me through meltdowns, the days that I couldn’t get out of bed, everything I’ve needed to make the music I’ve made this year, helping me to find the people who can support me in my mental and physical health… I couldn’t do any of this without her.

FAMILY – Not that I would ever call my family unsupportive but I feel like there have been specific instances this year that have felt new and different, in the context of the way they support me: help with applying for grants, help with getting my academic paper ready for publication, help with the Autism Dogs process, help with going to see Taylor Swift, help with finding a new therapist, even rescuing me when I’ve gotten stranded mid-meltdown… They listen to me; they know when to push me when I need it and let me stop when I need to stop; they remind me to rest (something I’m notoriously back at). My health, both physical and mental, has been so bad this year that I’ve really needed them and that change has created more change. The dynamic feels different than it has in the past and, for the most part, in a positive way; there’s room for growth.

THE FAMILY OF CATS – The cats have been a bit distant since we got Izzy. They find Izzy a pest at the best of times and so they’ve stayed away from her and therefore us as Izzy is usually with me and/or Mum. But over the last few months, they’ve started to stray from their ‘safe space’ in the kitchen and further into the house. They’re now sleeping in my room and the living room and even asking for attention, which feels like such a big win. They still avoid Izzy for the most part because she can be so excitable and unpredictable in her playfulness but we definitely have progress from the beginning of the year.

IZZY – Although she can be a little menace at times, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without Izzy in my life. I think she may well have saved my life when we got her last summer and somehow I love her even more than I did then. I love her more every day. She’s a constant presence – a constant soft, warm heartbeat – beside me and as bouncy and hyper and playful as she can be, she can be just as gentle and affectionate and sensitive; whenever I’m upset or even having a meltdown, she presses herself as close to me as possible and even licks away my tears. All she wants to do is make it better and even though it’s rarely something she can affect at all, her belief that she can and the effort she puts in can make me feel at least a little less awful.

AUTISM DOGS – While the process of working towards my Autism Assistance Dog, Daisy, and the anticipation (and, I will admit, anxiety) of waiting to see how it all plays out when she arrives, it’s also been really exciting and such a learning curve. Even though I swing backwards and forwards into various big doubts, the staff have been incredible at reassuring me and, if it’s a practical anxiety, showing me what to do to make me feel more confident. Daisy is utterly gorgeous and so eager to please and very sensitive to my needs already; I don’t know what I’m going to do if, mid-cry, I have two dogs launching themselves at me… Izzy and Daisy are getting on better but Izzy is still very possessive of me and I just have to hope that when they get to spend some significant time together (i.e. more than ninety minutes at a time), they’ll find it easier to figure out each other’s boundaries. So there’s a lot of joy there, even if there’s also a lot of anxiety. And getting to meet so many dogs has been so lovely – once there was even a litter of puppies!

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW FRIENDS – My friends and the love I have for them has been a consistent thread throughout this year. I’ve spent a lot of time, in real life and over the video calls if travel was tricky, with friends from all different periods of my life – something I feel so incredibly lucky to have. I’m still friends with my best friend from secondary school, from sixth form, from my BA, and my MA group of friends; it’s something that makes me so emotional, that we’ve managed to maintain these friendships over all of this time, despite everything that’s happened in our lives, and pick up – pretty much – as if no time has passed. Being able to share my life, hear about theirs, and hopefully support them as much as I’m able to through tough times is one of the greatest honours of my life and I can only hope that I’ve been clear enough about how much they mean to me. Their circles have broadened my circle too and that’s also been really lovely.

And due to the wedding of a friend from sixth form (she, Lois, animated a gorgeous music video for me and we’ve kept in touch sporadically over the years), I had the opportunity to see so many old friends from sixth form, many of whom I haven’t seen for years. Because of the pandemic, going to universities all over the country, traveling and moving abroad, we haven’t all been together for a really long time so I was positively giddy to see so many old friends. Life just gets so busy and with everyone scattered across the country and beyond, it hasn’t always been easy to stay in contact but, as I said, it was an absolute joy to see everyone again and I spent most of the evening hugging one person or another (apart from the solid twenty minutes of Taylor Swift music where I danced so hard that I nearly died at the end of it). There were so many exciting updates from everybody and it was just so nice to be together again. Hopefully it won’t be as long as last time before we can hang out together again.

I’ve also made a whole new group of friends, due to joining an online poetry group. What was such a casual decision has completely changed my life: my love of poetry and my creativity has grown exponentially but, more importantly, I adore the other members of the group. They’re all so kind and brave and creative and they make me feel understood and supported and safe. There’s a lot of overlap in mental illness, neurodivergence, disability, and chronic illness so we share a lot of experiences and common ground so we constantly support and ground and educate each other. Finding them was a complete fluke and now I miss our writing sessions if we go more than a week without one; they came into my life just when I needed them and I couldn’t be more grateful.

NASHVILLE FRIENDS – It was SO lovely to see my friends in Nashville when I was out there in late March-early April. And by some wonderful cosmic timing, I happened to be there the same week that my friend, Candi Carpenter, was releasing their debut album, Demonology (which is fantastic). And because they were also putting on a release show – and afterparty – lots of their friends and people who have become my friends online were all flocking to Nashville so I got to see loads of lovely people, some in person for the first time. If it hadn’t been for that, I’m not sure I would’ve seen my friend Kalie Shorr (who is also an incredible songwriter and artist) so I was very grateful for that and we had a blast at Candi’s release show and even managed to fit in a coffee and a catch up while we were both still in town. In some ways I got to see a lot of Candi – at their release show, at the afterparty, and then at another show they were playing later in the week – but they were obviously very focussed on getting the album out (completely understandably) so we really didn’t get much time at all to just hang out and catch up but it was so incredibly special to be at their show and celebrate the album and then be the super annoying fan whooping from the front row at the second gig. I truly would’ve been gutted to miss the release show: I’m pretty sure it was one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. So the time I did get to see Candi was very precious. And I also got to see Caylan, my very oldest Nashville friend, and we got to have a really lovely catch up and managed at least one Pancake Pantry outing. While my previous Nashville trips have been much more focussed on Tin Pan South, this trip ended up being much more focussed on my friends, although I did manage to get to see some of my Nashville faves, like Ingrid Andress.

ESCAPISM – While there were some really great days this year, there were still a lot of bad ones and still a lot of really, really terrible ones and I’m grateful for the escape that various activities have given me. I didn’t read much this year – my ADHD, brain fog, difficulty concentrating, etc was brutal this year – but diving into films and TV really got me through some of the tough times. Film wise, A Quiet Place: Day One was so much better than I thought it would be, considering how many times alien invasion films have been done and the fact that the main characters weren’t in it; I thought the lens through which they told the story was really moving. I also watched Fitting In and The Fallout and found both of those really powerful; they’re both the kinds of stories that we need to be telling and learning from because they dig into really big subjects and don’t always follow the storyline you expect them to, which often makes them much more true to real life. Oh, and I loved the most recent film from The Hunger Games franchise, The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (which I did actually also read). I really didn’t expect to like it because I really wasn’t interested in a story with Snow as the protagonist but I ended up finding it fascinating and enjoying it more than the original trilogy by far; Rachel Zegler and Viola Davies were, of course, also fantastic and I think it’s one of the most beautiful and visually interesting films I’ve seen in a really long time. (I also watched The Trap, which I recommend nobody watch ever – it’s actually amazing how terrible a film can be.) TV wise, I got back into Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, which was really nice because I love Olivia but was so bored of the storyline and Elliot features when I sort of tuned out; I’ve been enjoying the recent series a lot more. I also loved the new season of The Lincoln Lawyer and the new season of Criminal Minds: Evolution was better than I ever imagined possible: I’m honestly still obsessed with it – the character arcs, the acting, the greater plot, the strings left untied – and I can’t wait for the next one. I really got into Nobody Wants This, A Man on the Inside, and Black Doves (I’ve never seen Keira Knightly so good and I may never get over the relationship between her and Ben Whishaw’s characters) and I’m really excited that all three of them have been renewed for another season because I just want more! I also really enjoyed Red Eye – which was on ITV and I think was just a standalone series – with its amazing cast, acting, and storyline; it was really compelling right from the beginning and it was able to stay high stakes while still being clever and interesting and actually quite moving. And, of course, I found escape in music: I got really into both Beth McCarthy and Gracie Abrams because of their new releases this year; I was and still am, of course, obsessed with Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poet’s Department; and one of my favourite people, Candi Carpenter, put out their debut album, Demonology, which I know will stay as one of my favourite albums forever. Both Candi and another of my favourite people, Kalie Shorr – both of whom I first met in Nashville – started Patreons to fund their sophomore albums and while the perks of subscribing are lovely, getting to see these two albums come together is so freaking cool and I feel like I’m learning so much about the album process, from writing to production to creative direction and so on. I highly recommend checking them out and supporting them if you can. Candi’s is here and Kalie’s is here.

AMANDA TAPPING AND THE COMPANION – I have always loved Amanda Tapping – she’s been a hero of mine for more than fifteen years now – and I was lucky enough to meet her again at Basingstoke Comic Con this year. It was a tough few days – the event was very chaotic and there was an awful heatwave – but I have so many special memories of the experience. The panels were really interesting and all of the guests were really open and good-humoured despite the heat and exhaustion. I was, as always, really excited to see Amanda and getting to see Richard Dean Anderson was really wonderful; I’d sort of forgotten how much I love him and Jack O’Neill. I was kind of disappointed that I hadn’t bought a pass to meet him but the queue was so long that people were missing other things and I think I would’ve passed out before meeting him (having said that, I did run into him in the hallway before one of his panels and although he was barely able to stop moving, he was really sweet). Talking to Amanda again was as lovely as it always is (she is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met) and, although the meet and greet wasn’t what was promised, it was still really special. I also got to meet the organisers and many members of The Companion, an organisation that celebrates sci-fi and fandom and one of their biggest projects has been Embracing Mental Health as a Fandom with Amanda Tapping; it was so freaking lovely to meet them all in person for the first time after having everything be online for so long. The Companion panel with Amanda was amazing and really moving and I felt so lucky to be there. I missed it all as soon as I got in the car to go home but it was so special and I can’t wait for the next event, whatever and whenever that may be.

WALKING AWAY FROM MY LAST THERAPIST – I wrote an incredibly long post about this earlier in the year but the short version is that, at the beginning of the year, my therapist of the last couple of years traumatised me, triggered a meltdown, and ultimately pushed me into a dissociative state. I couldn’t go back for over a month and while I tried to engage with her over a phased return (because I felt too traumatised to even go back into the room), she wouldn’t discuss it and then threatened to terminate therapy unless I came back. Honestly, I never wanted to see her again at this point but I wanted to understand why she’d apparently become a completely different person from when I’d first met her. That session was a complete disaster but in a way I’d never expected: she babbled like an idiot, unable to justify any of her decisions or reasons for terminating therapy (which she was doing, regardless of the previous manipulation of terminating unless I came back). She accused me of threatening her livelihood by missing sessions (although she’d been fully aware of the issue and she’d had notice for every session apart from one, when I’d thought I’d be able to get there and then couldn’t) and then referred to my six-ish weeks of trauma-induced dissociation due to her actions as ‘an extended holiday.’ I had such a physical reaction to that that I honestly thought I was having some kind of cardiac event: my heart rate had been so high throughout the session and I’d been shaking like a leaf, unable to take deep breaths. She asked if she could come and sit next to me and I honestly don’t know what I would have done if she had; I did not want her anywhere near me. But at some point during the session, something changed for me: it was like shedding my skin that I’d long needed to let go of and this new version of me had a new kind of strength, I guess… the emotional strength to push back rushed into my body like much-needed oxygen. For every lie, I had evidence against her; for every attempt to manipulate me, I called her out; for every time she tried to make it my fault, I was able to volley the accusation back. Maybe seeing her had triggered the fury I felt and as soon as I felt that, I was able to stand my ground and push back. Or maybe it was the absolute ridiculousness of her behaviour. I wasn’t going to let her get away with that. I did end up going to one final session, to give her a final chance to explain, but she was just as all over the place and halfway through the session, the air just went out of me and I left. I didn’t want anything to do with her for another minute and there was nothing she could say or do to change that. It was a very traumatic experience and I’m not grateful for that at all; I’m beyond sick of terrible therapists who hurt their clients more than they help them. But I’m really grateful for the new person I grew into as a result of it all, even if it took me a while to recognise it.

GETTING THE TATTOO BUG – After almost fifteen years of wanting tattoos but other things just getting in the way, I finally got my first tattoo… and my second… and my third… and at the time of writing this, I have six with plans for many more. I love having them and I love getting them, which is apparently not that unusual for people who have self harmed; I find it oddly therapeutic and I definitely get a rush from it. I have had one really bad experience with a tattoo artist discriminating against me and refusing me disability accommodations, which was traumatic and has been taking up a lot of my time and brain space to resolve. It’s not, as of yet, resolved but I’m still working on it and I hope that there will be some progress soon. But that incident aside, I’ve absolutely loved it and I’m looking forward to figuring out which tattoos I’ll be getting next…

AMAZING SHOWS, FROM BASEMENT BARS TO STADIUMS – I had a year of amazing concerts, from small songwriters’ circles (shout out to Stories in Song) to Taylor Swift’s almost four hour long epic, The Eras Tour, at Wembley Stadium (shout out to Electrolyte Fastchews for keeping me alive). I got to see multiple incredible songwriters at Tin Pan South in Nashville (including my long time fave, Ingrid Andress), as well as my beloved Kalie Shorr and Candi Carpenter – it was so special to be able to be in the room cheering for them, rather than stuck behind the screen on a livestream. I got to see Holly Humberstone for the first time. I got to see Bleachers twice, which I was particularly grateful for: the first time I ‘saw’ them, the accessibility team put me in the back row of the seating and, even though the seats were raised, everyone stood up and refused to sit down when told by security so I wasn’t able to see much of anything. I got to see Maisie Peters twice as well, first opening for Taylor Swift (which was awesome and so emotional that I cried through most of it) and then opening for Noah Kahan, who was also amazing. I got to see one of my tutors, Jonathan Whiskerd, play the launch gig of his stunning upcoming album, which was so special, even more so because I know how much time and effort and care has gone into it. I got to see Beth McCarthy headline Heaven, which was so much fun; I got to see Halsey play a surprise show at KOKO, performing a mix of songs from their previous albums and a few new ones, The Great Impersonator having not been released yet (that show was super emotional); and I got to see Kelsea Ballerini play an incredible one night only show at The Roundhouse. It was an amazing year for concerts and I’m not sure how 2025 could beat it but I do have a few very cool ones lined up.

TAYLOR SWIFT AND THE ERAS TOUR – Taylor Swift usually makes her way onto my grateful lists, for one reason or another, and this year I have so many reasons to be thankful for her. The paper that I wrote on her lyric writing and presented at what I believe was the first Taylor Swift centric conference, Taylor Swift Study Day 2021, is about to be published (I did an interview about it here), which is so exciting! She released her newest album, The Tortured Poets Department, which I love and feel like I’ve learned so much from, from a songwriting perspective; I love it so much that I got a tattoo of a lyric from ‘The Black Dog.’ I endlessly enjoyed following The Eras Tour online and discussing each night and each night’s mashup on Tumblr. And then getting to go… Getting to go to The Eras Tour was absolutely magical; I will never forget how special it felt to be there, to experience those shows with the wonderful people I got to go with. I was so lucky to be able to go multiple times but the most special part of that was the fact that I had so many friends who wanted to go and wanted to go with me, their resident Swiftie friend: as a teenager I was bullied and harassed relentlessly for loving Taylor so to have more friends wanting to go with me than there were shows in London (not that I went to every show in London) was so healing for my younger self. The show was beyond incredible, I had so much fun with my friends (and, of course, my Mum – we’ve been to many Taylor shows together), and I got to witness the most beautiful mashups and special guests, including Paramore as an opener, the live debut of ‘The Black Dog,’ the first Eras Tour performance of ‘I Did Something Bad,’ Maisie Peters as an opener, the mash up of ‘Change’ and ‘Long Live,’ Jack Antonoff as a special guest, and the first ever live performance of ‘Florida!!!’ WITH Florence + The Machine. I will honestly never get over the experiences I had. The effort it took to go to the shows required almost a month of recovery time and it took over a week before I was able to make coherent sentences but it was so completely worth it. I’m not sure there will ever be another concert experience like The Eras Tour but then this is Taylor Swift we’re talking about so who knows…

HALSEY – I’ve loved Halsey for years and I’ve always felt her music very deeply; there are multiple odd little parallels in our lives (we were actually born on the same day, only a few hours apart) that have always made her music feel like it’s deeply personal just to me, even though I know there is a thriving fandom out there who I’m sure feel the same way. I found it quite difficult to hear that they were going through really difficult health stuff, partly because I was also going through difficult health stuff, so it was a big relief when they started doing shows again. I was ridiculously lucky and managed to get a ticket to see them live at KOKO, just before The Great Impersonator came out, and it was just so magical to see them perform live again (I last saw Halsey live on The Manic Tour at The O2 Arena in 2020) and not just live but live at a super small, intimate venue. When they teared up, I could actually see the shine in their eyes because that’s how small the venue was; being at such a small show – just them and us – felt like a really special moment of reconnection. It was an incredible show, as I’ve always known Halsey shows to be, and see them so at ease onstage and so moved to be in front of a crowd (and a crowd of fans who were so thrilled to be there) was really moving (and, as I said, really reassuring). I got to hear songs I never thought I’d hear live due to the Love + Power Tour having been a US only tour: I was so excited when I realised that anything was up for grabs and it was a breathtaking experience to hear songs like ‘1121’ and ‘honey’ live. It was also one of the best gigs, accessibility wise, that I’ve ever been to, from the venue to the staff to the other fans; that meant a lot to me. And then, of course, there’s the new album, The Great Impersonator, which is incredible. It’s so raw, so moving and so powerful, and it’s been crafted so carefully and beautifully; the stories, within the greater story, that Halsey is telling are so detailed and delicate and the production is so varied and expressive. I’m just obsessed with it. But the rawness of it also makes it painful to listen to. Listening to it, I felt like so many of the songs could’ve been about me to a certain extent because I related to them so deeply; it’s a hard listen and it does feel like an excavation of every wound but I also felt so seen and so understood, which is so rare. All of the songs feel so precious to me (‘Life of the Spider (Draft)’ and the ‘Letter to God’ trio especially so) and it will always be an incredibly special album to me. I read one review that summed it up really well: “This is not an album designed to be a chart-topper; it’s a masterclass in the ways we use art to survive – which is to say, a masterclass in honesty.” I think this is so true, for the album, for Halsey as an artist, and for the way I feel about songwriting as an artist myself.

TRYING SOMATIC THERAPY – I needed a break after the traumatic end to my last relationship with a therapist but I still really needed help. I’ve reached a point where I don’t think talk therapy can do much for neurodivergence and trauma related issues (although I do think it can be helpful for working through certain things – I’m still in contact with a talk therapist I trust for when I do need that sort of support) so I started doing some research and ended up looking for a somatic therapist. I managed to find one really close by and I’ve had three sessions with her so far and I really like her; we get along really well and she just gets me. I can’t really explain it but I do think I feel different and I would recommend it to everyone, neurodivergent or neurotypical (I’ve already specifically suggested it to multiple people in my life, if only to get the short term relief I felt after the first session). We’re all carrying a lot of trauma these days, especially after the pandemic and with everything going on in the world, and the trauma of it all seems to be flying under the radar. I’m nervous to let my hopes get too high but I’m cautiously optimistic about how I might feel after more sessions in the new year.

NEW WORKING RELATIONSHIPS – This year I’ve met and worked with some truly amazing people that have made me so excited for my upcoming music releases. Up to this point, it’s pretty much been me, Richard Marc, and my Mum making things happen (and, of course, Josh of Sprogglet Studies who always does a fantastic job of mixing and mastering my tracks). But this year, I’ve met some wonderful people who really get me and get my music and, for the first time, I feel like I have music industry professionals (ones who I didn’t already know) who believe in me and who are passionate about what I’m passionate about and that means so much to me. I don’t want to say too much yet, since I haven’t made any official announcements about new music, but I’m so grateful to Tahnee and now Abi for everything they’ve done so far and for everything we have planned. I’ve also worked with some very cool photographers this year. In Nashville, I worked with Katie-Mac Photography and she had some ideas that, even now, I’m obsessed with; I only wish we’d had longer to explore them (and that the logistics hadn’t been so stressful). I did a shoot with Fraser MacKenzie, which was really fun; because we didn’t have a specific plan in mind, we were just able to improvise and see what worked and that was really cool. I’m learning so much through all of these experiences and so I’m really grateful for all of them. And then, of course, I finally got to work with Tom, who I’ve been chatting to for YEARS at this point: we’ve been talking about doing the artwork for this project ever since I came up with the idea and despite the pandemic and my health issues and our busy lives, we finally did it and it’s SO GOOD. I’m SO excited for people to see it; I’m absolutely obsessed. I also have to give Richard his own special shout out for all of the time and work and care that he’s poured into this project with me to make this new music; he has been my musical partner for over ten years now and I could not do it all without him. Making art with him is like making magic and our sessions together are some of my very favourite times. They, like our friendship, feel like anchors in my life and I can’t wait to create more stuff in the new year.


So I managed to finish it! It is still 2024. Just. I do want to get my unfinished 2024 (and 2023 – oops) posts up in time but I’ve been so hard on myself about it and that hasn’t gotten them finished or been good for me so I’m trying to just take my time and slowly get them done. Anyway. As I said, even though it’s been a tough year, there has been a lot to be grateful for and oh my god, do I feel grateful. I can’t imagine how any year could ever be like this year but who knows what next year will bring, good and bad.

Breaking Up With My Therapist

And I accidentally abandoned this blog again… I’d always intended to take a break over January and February, to clear my head and to catch up on some of my end of 2023 blog posts, and while I obviously did take a break, neither of those things happened. Instead, I had a very traumatic break up with my therapist and I’ve spent the last two months or so in such distress that writing blog posts wasn’t even on my radar. Hopefully I’ll return to those posts and get them finished, posted, and out of my brain but, for the moment, I’m still feeling really overwhelmed and traumatised by those last three sessions and the absolute landslide of emotion and distress that they caused.


I’d been struggling on and off with therapy for a while, which I’m pretty sure was a result of feeling really burned out: with so little energy – physical, mental, and emotional – I found it really difficult to put myself into a position where I knew I’d end up feeling even worse. It was taking everything I had just to get out of bed, let alone go and pour my heart out for ninety minutes only to stuff it back in and walk around for the next week like it wasn’t utterly draining. So my attendance wasn’t deeply consistent but I was trying; I was giving it all I had even though I didn’t have much to start with. And then something changed around October last year.

Whenever I mentioned having a meltdown, she’d question it, to the point where it started to feel like she was trying to determine if I was lying or like she was trying to catch me out in some way, like “Gotcha! I knew they weren’t meltdowns!” And whenever the topic of my family came up, she’d dig, like she was looking for trauma or dysfunction. I also had the vague sense that she was trying to drive a wedge between my Mum and I, which I didn’t understand at all since we were trying to chip away at some really, really hard stuff and my Mum feels like the only person I can just about share this stuff with. As far as I can tell, it’s not uncommon for autistic people to have a ‘safe person’ in their life and destabilising that relationship, especially when I was already feeling so fragile, felt unwise at the very least. At first, I’d brushed it off, assuming I was being overly sensitive or something but it kept happening and was bothering me more and more. After our last session before the Christmas and New Year break, I decided that I’d bring it up when sessions started again.

I really struggled over Christmas and New Year – it’s a time that I’ve been finding increasingly difficult, especially over the last few years – with my depression and suicidal thoughts reaching really scary levels. I did email my therapist but we never worked things out over email: it was more about putting some of those thoughts and feelings somewhere and to keep her informed so that, when I arrived at the next session, she’d at least have a basic understanding of where I was at emotionally. We’d also discussed exploring Brainspotting since I was having such a hard time talking about my core fears, one of which was the main reason I’d gone back to therapy this time.

But we never got to any of those things. The session was an absolute nightmare. I can’t remember the first half of the session because the second half was so traumatic. We were sat on the floor and I had Izzy in my lap – she’d come to several sessions with me since she’s become such a grounding presence for me – and I’d thought we were going to talk about Brainspotting but then, for some reason still unknown to me, my therapist started asking me question after question about this core fear. My anxiety got worse and worse, I couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t long before I was in verbal shutdown. I couldn’t speak; I could not answer her questions; and she wouldn’t step back, despite my obvious distress (I mean, I thought it was blatantly obvious). I’d lost all sense of time but eventually she slowed down and when she next asked a question, I dredged up my last reserves of energy and, my brain still barely functioning, I forced out a sentence. Maybe it was just inside my head, but it sounded flat and slurred – all off my energy was going into forming the words; I didn’t have anything left for expression or emotion. I had two reasons for forcing myself so beyond my limit: firstly, because I was scared that I’d have a full on meltdown with all of the worst elements (screaming, pulling my hair out, self harming, etc), which I dread having anywhere but at home (and it’s not like I enjoy them at home…) and, secondly, because I was scared she’d touch me, meltdown or not, which I viscerally did not want, especially while I was having so much trouble speaking and wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no. I felt like she was trying to force me into a meltdown and, regardless of the fact that this was coming from someone I was supposed to feel safe with, I felt and still feel deeply traumatised by the experience. The ‘conversation’ that followed only compounded that. We’d run out of time – thank god, because I felt utterly wrecked and wanted nothing more than to get out of that room – and I was packing up my bag and sorting out Izzy when my therapist said that, instead of pursuing Brainspotting, we were going to repeat that experience every week. I don’t know if I can even describe the feeling that that triggered – panic, terror, I don’t know – but, even though I was so drained that I could barely keep my eyes open, I couldn’t let that go. Maybe some sort of survival mechanism kicked in. I said that I knew that that would make things worse but she brushed off my reaction and said that it would help, both dismissing and invalidating my feelings. By that point, I was so overwhelmed with so many blinding emotions that I couldn’t say anything else; I had to get out of the building before I fell apart entirely.

The next several weeks were dominated by meltdowns, paralysing anxiety, crying jags, and the feeling that the ground was constantly shifting under my feet. I felt so traumatised, so completely rocked by the session that all I could do, for weeks, was lie on the sofa and stare blankly at the TV. I’ve experienced dissociation of a sort before but this was far, far worse: whenever I thought about the sessions or even therapy in general, my thoughts would scatter and wouldn’t reconnect until hours later. I couldn’t even engage with the thought of therapy until a month after that awful session. My Mum had been in regular contact with my therapist, letting her know that I wouldn’t be coming in, but it was a month before I could even think about writing to her myself. Even then, a month since that hideous session, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was about to throw up, like my mind was going to get shoved right out of my head and I’d shut down. But the idea of carrying around all of those feelings felt unbearable so I spent a full day shouldering through the nausea and writing her an email, describing my experience of the session. Just the thought of being in the room triggered such an intense flight or flight response that I couldn’t imagine going back there so soon, so I suggested doing a Zoom session (which we’d done before when one or other of us had been abroad) as a stepping stone to getting back there. When she replied, she shot it down without explanation, triggering another tidal wave of anxiety and confusion – she felt like an entirely different person to the one I’d been working with for so many months. It was like she’d had a personality transplant or, probably a more likely explanation, that something had happened in her life and it was creeping into her work. I still wonder if that was the case. (In a later email, she explained why she hadn’t wanted to use Zoom and her reasons were completely understandable but I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t simply said that in the original response, why she’d chosen to leave me confused and upset when she could have so easily prevented that.) That response left me untethered again and I could feel this monstrous, ugly trauma growing and feeding on itself; it was like someone had ripped open the stitches and the tissue that had just started the slow process of knitting itself back together was torn open, messy and raw.

It took me over a week to compose a response but then, before I could send it, I received an email – in the same cold tone as the previous one – where my therapist declared that since ‘we’ hadn’t found a way to meet in person (an interesting word choice since I had been the only one suggesting alternatives), she had decided to terminate therapy. Reading that felt like experiencing a physical trauma, like something dense and heavy impacting my chest and splintering every bone, pulverising every muscle, organ, and blood vessel. I couldn’t tell if I was going to throw up, stop breathing, or completely dissociate. I felt so fragile that I honestly feared that my brain would splinter and that would be it: I’d learn what it means to lose your mind. I couldn’t believe she’d be so cruel; I’d never imagined that she could be so cruel. Part of me wondered if it was a manipulation: she was forgoing the carrot and using the stick to force me back into the room, regardless of my feelings about it. But I couldn’t believe she’d really do that, couldn’t believe that the person I’d known for a year would do that – to anyone. She suggested a session or two to wrap up but I could barely process that concept: the words ‘terminate therapy’ were all I could think about, drowning out everything else in my head. It took a while but when I could eventually form coherent thought, I knew I couldn’t miss the upcoming session, not with this weight hanging over me; I couldn’t carry it around any longer than I had to. So I wrote back, trying to briefly express the hurt and anger I felt to, at the very least, establish a foundation for what I assumed would be the final session. I didn’t know how much I’d be able to say myself so I wanted to get some of it out there before I got into the room: I wanted her to know how abandoned I felt, how ending therapy without so much as discussing it felt like a punishment; I wanted her to know how invalidated I felt, how I felt she’d invalidated my trauma after the previous session; I wanted her to know that this abandonment felt like one more person telling me I’m too complicated, that I’m broken, that I’m not trying hard enough, that I’m not worth putting in the effort. It was a hard email to write and a hard few days waiting for the session.

It took me six weeks in total to go back and even then, I didn’t feel ready. I woke up in the middle of the night – the night before the session – screaming and crying in pain, the trauma and hurt I felt about the whole situation overwhelming me even in sleep. Mum had to sit with me until I calmed down enough to go back to sleep but I could still feel the ghost of it the next morning, along with nausea and shaking. I wanted to skip it so badly but given how that last session had ended, not going back felt worse than going (although it was a very slim margin). I wanted to understand and, if this was the end, I wanted closure, even if closure meant learning that I’d never get the whole truth. I’ve been there before. Everyone I’d told thought I was mad, but I needed to try, despite how awful I felt. So back I went.

My fight or flight response was so intense when I arrived that I don’t know how I walked inside; my whole body was screaming at me to run and it almost felt like gravity was trying to pull me off my intended course. I sat down on the sofa but didn’t take my shoes off as I usually would; if I truly needed to escape – Mum was waiting in the car outside with Izzy – I didn’t want anything to slow me down. My whole body was shaking, so noticeably that my therapist actually pointed it out. For a moment, she seemed so like the person I remembered from before all of this but it didn’t last: the session was a complete mess. It’s tempting to say that it was worse than the previous one but in reality, they’re not really comparable: the January session was traumatic and although this one was a hideous experience, I didn’t feel traumatised by it. I don’t feel traumatised by it. It felt more like a battle of wills: each of us pushing, neither of us willing to give up any ground. (I don’t know if she’d think of it that way but all I could think about when she was – or more accurately wasn’t – answering my questions, was that she was scrambling, desperately trying to protect herself.) I was angry and hurt and she was defensive and reactive, repeatedly turning my feelings and questions back on me with statements like, “well, that wasn’t my intention” or “I can’t help it if you interpreted it that way” and so on. She didn’t outright make everything that had happened in the last session my fault but she was clearly avoiding taking any responsibility for the situation, despite being the therapist in our relationship. For example, whenever I expressed that I felt traumatised – specifically by how I’d felt pushed into a shutdown – her responses only left me feeling more distressed and invalidated, like she didn’t believe me. I felt like she thought I was throwing the word ‘trauma’ around casually, rather than using it to describe a very real emotional injury. When I asked her specifically about the verbal shutdown I’d experienced as a result of her pushing, she said that she didn’t realise how bad my distress was, that it didn’t seem worse than the previous times I’ve become distressed during sessions. I felt it was deeply, deeply obvious but we clearly weren’t going to agree on that.

In my anger, I ground out that I felt that not only terminating therapy but terminating it by email was a punishment for ‘not trying hard enough,’ for not meeting her expectations, for not getting back into the room in her acceptable timeframe (despite the fact that I had no help in doing so). I said that it felt like a manipulation to get me back into the room but she claimed that it wasn’t: she gave me her ‘reasons’ for terminating therapy but, in my opinion, not only were they very flimsy but they were things that she’d never mentioned to me. If she had, there were adjustments we could’ve made and things we could’ve worked on but how could I have done that when I never even knew that she considered these things problems? I’m skeptical that those were the real reasons; I think she had others that she just didn’t want to share. She said that she’d talked extensively about all of this with her supervisor and I couldn’t help thinking what I wouldn’t have done to hear those conversations. I tried to get some clear answers from her, get my most basic questions answered – about the last session, about terminating therapy by email – but it wasn’t long before her answers started spiralling and she couldn’t stop justifying herself. That, to me at least, implied that she wasn’t confident in her decisions but I can’t know that for sure and I’ll probably never know now.

She brought up the fact that she’s self employed, saying that me not coming consistently put her livelihood at risk. I think it’s worth noting that my sessions had always been cancelled in the accepted timeframe and, on the one occasion where I’d left it too late – because I’d really thought I’d be able to go – we’d paid her. That is my only responsibility to her financially; I thought bringing that up was not only unbelievable but also deeply unethical (and everyone I’ve described this moment to have been appalled too). She said that she couldn’t have a client taking “an extended holiday,” a phrase that seemed to suck all of the air out of me: I couldn’t believe that she’d just essentially compared my six weeks of trauma and dissociating to a holiday. The panic attack hit me so hard that I felt paralysed, shaking and hyperventilating. At one point, she asked if she could sit on the sofa beside me but I flinched – from the moment I walked into the room, I hadn’t wanted to be within reach of her – so, fortunately, she didn’t move. I don’t know how long it took but when I was eventually able to breathe and communicate, I told her that she wouldn’t like what I wanted to say. She said that that didn’t matter, that she always wanted me to share what I felt (which felt very ironic considering how the session was going). So I expressed that, whether she’d intended to or not, she’d just compared this incredibly traumatic experience to a holiday. She instantly, vehemently, and repeatedly denied it but it’s what she said; I wish she would’ve just acknowledged that what she’d been trying to say – regardless of it being an appalling point – had come out wrong. It still would’ve hurt but I think it would’ve hurt less. Or maybe the whole thing was already broken beyond repair at that point; maybe it was already too late and I was just trying to get some answers before fleeing the burning building.

I pointed out that, in terminating therapy and therefore abandoning me by email, she’d repeated a trauma that had devastated me at nineteen; it was an experience she knew a great deal about since we’d spent months discussing it. She forcefully disagreed and said that it wasn’t the same at all but apart from a few details, I can’t believe that she couldn’t see the screaming similarities; I don’t believe it. She said that she just needed to get me in the room and I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony: how was that not manipulation? That was another element of what felt like, to me, was her ‘scrambling’ to stay in control, of the session and the party line she was sticking to: she kept contradicting herself. Another example was, despite announcing the end of therapy over email, she repeatedly told me that I had agency, that continuing with therapy was my choice. I found that deeply confusing: one day she was dropping me as a client by email and the next, it was all up to me? I didn’t understand. But I wasn’t sure that it mattered in the long run: I was running through the consequences of everything I thought to say before saying it – on whether or not I should say it at all – because, having threatened to end therapy once, I couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t trust her and I didn’t feel safe with her anymore.

Possibly the only useful thing to come out of the session – apart from a sense of catharsis – was a short exchange about other types of therapy and what other modalities might be helpful. But then, when I said that every therapist I’ve seen has hurt me in one way or another – intentionally or not – and that trusting someone new feels all but impossible, she suggested that I’m letting them hurt me (or inviting them to hurt me – something to that effect). I was astonished that she could say something like that, that she could say – to my face – that it’s my fault that therapists have been traumatising me. I mean, I don’t even know what to do with that. And then she asked me how my dog was, as if she hadn’t just spent more than ninety minutes denying, dismissing, and invalidating the trauma that she was the source of. I was wound so tight that I thought something in my body might snap, despite the exhaustion weighing me down, as if my muscles had been replaced by sand bags.

I escaped to the car, relieved to see Mum and Izzy, who climbed up my body and around my neck; she’s a sensitive little bean, always wanting to make people feel better. I was so exhausted that when we got home, I went straight to the sofa, curled up with Izzy, and slept for the rest of the day. It was a long week; it was a lot to process. I had a lot of interesting conversations with family, friends, therapists, friends who are therapists, all of them horrified that my therapist had treated me the way she had and said the things she’d said to me. In the end, I decided that I needed to go back, most likely for the last time: my therapist had been so reactive and so on edge that I thought, with a week to process everything that had been said, she might be a bit less defensive and therefore able to answer some of my questions. She hadn’t really given me any answers, not sufficient ones anyway.

Before that final session, I emailed her with some thoughts and questions so that she would have time to think about them before we met to talk. I told her that I still didn’t feel clear about the traumatic session in January and how that had gone so wrong, why she hadn’t stopped pushing when I was clearly so distressed; how confused I felt about her terminating therapy by email only to turn around and say that I had agency over the situation; that I felt really distressed and invalidated by her response to how traumatised I felt by the experience. When we’d first met, she was confident that she could help me with this core fear that I was struggling with but suddenly she was saying that she didn’t have the skills and I didn’t understand what had changed.

The days passed and I went in for what ended up being the final session. The atmosphere was less fractious but she was still refused to acknowledge any part in the therapeutic relationship having gone so wrong and having become so traumatising. I pushed for the answers to my questions again and again, still driven by all of the anger and hurt, until about halfway through the session when I just felt all of the fury wilt into weariness and I was just so tired. I knew she wasn’t going to give me anything approaching a satisfying explanation and I knew that she wasn’t going to apologise. It was just so painfully clear that the relationship was broken beyond repair and, whatever happened from that point, I would never feel safe with her again. Sitting there, I already missed the person I’d met and worked so hard to trust but she wasn’t that person anymore. And with all of that anger burned out, there wasn’t much more to say. Part of me regretted going to that last session and wished I’d walked away after the previous one, still angry and hating her, but I knew I’d always wonder if I hadn’t given it one more chance. So, aside from a few more painful comments, that was that. We dragged ourselves through the rest of the session and I walked away with nothing but an anti-climactic farewell. I don’t know about her but I knew it was over.

At some point over the next few days, my Mum emailed her to officially and logistically tie things up. The reply insisted that she’d ultimately been thinking of my best interests, that she felt she didn’t have the skills to help me and that another model of therapy might be more helpful. It was only at this point that she expressed that she was “sorry that the therapy didn’t work,” something she never said to me; I know that an apology wouldn’t have changed anything by that point but it would’ve changed the story a little, to hear that she actually felt something about the crash and burn that was the end of our therapeutic relationship. To me, she’ll always be another mental health professional who abandoned me during a crisis because I was too much, because I was too complicated, because I wasn’t worth the effort. She never contacted me again, not that she necessarily had to as my now ex-therapist, but I can’t help thinking that, had I been in her shoes, I would’ve emailed to say goodbye, to wish me well, to… something. But as I said, now that all is said and done, she’s just another person who didn’t really care.


I’ve had many, many conversations with many, many different people since then and, of course, I’ve thought about it a lot. I even looked up the relevant ethical guidelines but, when I talked about it with another therapist, she advised me not to waste my time and energy: even if I had any proof, therapists have many more protections than their clients. And while the anger that still lingers is tempting, I know that I wouldn’t be able to prove it and my impassioned description of what happened is unlikely to change anything; stories like mine are far too common. I do think about her other clients though and I wonder what their experience over the last six months has been like. But I’ll never know and I don’t think knowing either way would help me.

It’s taken me a long time to write this and, to a certain extent, I’m still processing it; I know that this new emotional injury won’t heal for a long time. But writing things down has always helped me to make sense of my feelings and to let go of some of the weight that I carry. And posting it here… well, this is where I’ve documented the ups and downs of my life for almost a decade (where all of that time went, I have no idea). To leave it out… I might as well give up posting entirely.

I feel lighter already.