Posted on January 1, 2026
TW: pet loss, pet death, depression.
I had hoped to get this up on Christmas Eve – like I used to – but given everything that’s been going on with my mental and physical health and the resulting fatigue, I’m not writing as quickly or as effortlessly as I have done in the past. But fast or slow, writing down my thoughts helps me to reflect and, considering how extreme the highs and lows of this year have been, some reflection – especially on the good things in my life – has helped me to feel more grounded as the year ends.
MY MUM – I’m always grateful for my Mum but I couldn’t have imagined the ups and downs of this year if I’d tried and I absolutely couldn’t have gotten through them without her. Between Daisy (my Autism Assistance Dog) moving in and getting settled, the difficulties and stress surrounding releasing new music, music and conference commitments, chronic pain and illness flare ups, a pinched nerve, a hospital visit, and a debilitating mystery illness (which, thankfully, has now been demystified and I’m starting to recover from), she has been an anchor, a touchstone, and a source of endless support. And considering the busy year she’s had, I’m so beyond grateful that I don’t know how to fully express it. I just know that there’s no way I could’ve survived this year without her.
MY PARENTS – With everything going on this year, I’m so grateful to have had the support and encouragement of my parents. Everyone’s had a lot to deal with – it’s certainly not been the easiest twelve months – but they’ve still been there for celebration and every challenge that this year has brought. They’ve been so supportive of everything I’ve taken on this year – and not just mine: they’ve been champions of my friends and their projects too, which I couldn’t love them more for.
THE TIME I HAD WITH LUCY – I still feel so deeply sad and the house feels so lonely without Lucy but I would never give up the time I had with Lucy; I will always be grateful for every moment I had with her, even at the end when it was so distressing – for all of us. She was with me through so much hard stuff, through so much growing up, and coming home to her was always so comforting. She was so special – so sweet and affectionate and sensitive – and she’ll always have a special place in my heart; I’ll always love her more than I can properly explain. Nothing I say feels like it’s enough. I miss her more than I know what to do with and I still feel more than a bit lost and untethered without her at the centre of the house.

THE FAMILY OF CATS – Between the arrival of Daisy early in the year, the loss of Lucy, my health issues, and the summer months when they’re almost entirely in the garden, home has felt very much in flux and I haven’t seen as much of my little family of cats as I would’ve liked and that’s been really hard. It was also incredibly scary to find out that Sweep, one of the youngest generation, suddenly needed a really big surgery, especially so soon after Lucy had had to be put to sleep. But fortunately, it went really well and she recovered beautifully, if impatiently. Things are getting better: they’ve migrated back inside with the colder weather and they’re slowly becoming braver – or at least less likely to run – around Daisy. It’s not that she’s a danger to them in any way, she’s just deeply enthusiastic and bouncy, the unpredictability of which they are not fans of (plus she must seem huge to them, while Izzy has always been even smaller than they are). They’re getting used to her and she’s getting better about not bounding up to them every time she sees them. It’s been a big change for everyone and I’m honestly just so grateful that, even with Daisy’s arrival, they’ve never doubted where their home is. I’m so, so grateful for the time I have had with each of them this year – I don’t take a second of it for granted – and I’m hopeful that things will only improve and become more stable going forward.
IZZY – I’m so grateful to have this fluffy, little sock thief in my life. She’s a constant source of love and joy and hilarity. If she could, she’d spend every hour of the day in my lap and I can’t say I’d complain; she spends almost all day curled up against me on the sofa and then all night curled up against me on my bed. She’s so adorable, so sensitive and snuggly, and she’s so funny and playful. She has struggled a bit since Daisy moved in: she doesn’t like having to share me. She gets jealous of how Daisy supports me and tries to take over, tries to prove that she can do it just as well as Daisy can and, to her, Daisy is big and enthusiastic and unpredictable (and Izzy’s face is right at the height of Daisy’s furiously wagging tail, which has caused more than a few incidents between them). They’re getting there and, thankfully, Daisy is very patient with her; I couldn’t bear it if they were just fundamentally incompatible. My relationship with Izzy is so deeply special, both because of how it began and what it’s grown into, and she’s a constant comforting presence that I’m beyond grateful for.
DAISY, MY AUTISM ASSISTANCE DOG – At the beginning of the year, Daisy officially moved in and, a few months later, she was fully qualified as my Autism Assistance Dog. I’ve posted about almost all of the training process but I really need to write something about what it’s been like since she was qualified; I don’t think this post is the place to reflect on all of that because I have so many thoughts on it but this post would’ve been incomplete without her. It’s safe to say that it’s been a massive change and, as someone who’s not very good at change, it has been a hard year with a lot of anxiety. It takes time, after all, for any dog to settle into a new home, as does getting an Assistance Dog used to more and more situations and environments. She’s been doing so well and I don’t think I’ve been doing too badly either but it’s been slow going, especially as it’s been complicated by a chronic pain flare up, a pinched nerve, and months of stomach issues. So we haven’t done as much as I would’ve liked but I’m really proud of everything we’ve managed so far. Her relationships with Izzy and with the cats are still developing and their interactions don’t always go smoothly but they have and are making progress. It’s easy to spiral about them never truly getting on but I have to trust the progress they’ve made so far and that they can make more. She’s an amazing dog: sweet, smart, eager to please, always up to play or snuggle… She has such a gorgeous face and she gets so excited whenever I pick up her jacket: she’s so excited to do her job, which is just adorable and always makes me feel calmer about going out with her. It’s a long process, getting confident working as a team, but every step has been in the right direction and I’m really grateful for that. I’m also really grateful for the ongoing support from Autism Dogs. I wouldn’t have Daisy at all without them, of course, but their support this year – from accommodating me during the the final stages of Daisy’s training to the regular check ins – has been amazing and so appreciated. It’s been a huge undertaking, especially as a chronically ill and disabled person, but they’ve been so helpful and so encouraging. I’m not sure we could’ve done this without their consistent support.
(Left: Izzy // Right: Daisy, my Autism Assistance Dog)
MY THERAPIST – Having abandoned talk therapy and started somatic therapy for trauma release in 2024, this was the year that I really committed everything to it and although I’m not sure I can fully explain it, I can say that it has had a huge impact on my life. Without a doubt. I learned a lot in talk therapy but I think it can only do so much when it comes to neurodivergence and trauma (although that’s just my opinion based on my experience) and somatic therapy takes a very different approach. I’ve been working with my therapist on learning to regulate my nervous system and helping my brain and body to reconnect so that my brain is able to recognise the trauma that my body is holding onto and then strengthening it so that I can go on to process that trauma as my brain and body feel able to. For a long time, I’ve struggled to fully feel my feelings, like I can only feel so much before they get shut down and, over the last six months, that’s started to change, which is both amazing and kind of terrifying. There is a reason we shut down these feelings after all. But my therapist is brilliant. Right from the beginning, we’ve gotten along really well and I so appreciate how she’s adopted my special interests to help me make sense of aspects of somatic therapy and how to get the most out of it; she always meets me where I am and I’ve never felt alone in the process. Because somatic therapy focusses much more heavily on feeling (while talk therapy – in my experience, at least – focusses much more on thinking and reasoning), I feel like I often go into it very much on trust: I might not fully understand or feel whatever it is we’re working on in that moment or in that session but I trust my therapist and I trust her confidence in the process. It’s hard to define the progress I’ve made – trauma and safety and emotions aren’t easily measurable – but I know it’s there. I’m learning a lot and my body’s learning a lot and I know that, in time, I’ll see the proof of all of this learning.
MY FIRST HYDROTHERAPY POOL AND FINALLY GETTING BACK TO THE POOL – Early in the year, the gorgeous pool that I’ve been using to do my hydrotherapy since 2021 closed, much to my distress. Not only did it fit all of my needs and allow me to do my exercises without an audience, it was an important fixture when my mental health was particularly bad (from late 2021 to late 2022). I was very attached. I’m so grateful for the time I had there: I needed a safe space, physically and emotionally, to start building my strength back up and I couldn’t have asked for anywhere better. Finding a new pool has been really difficult but I have recently started going to a new one; it’s not the same but it has different advantages and it does allow me to get back to working in the pool, which I am very grateful for. The transition is hard but I’ve never been particularly good at change. It will just take time; it always does.
THE TATTOOS I GOT THIS YEAR – Spending less time in the pool meant that getting more tattoos wasn’t as logistically complicated as it had been previously and over the last twelve months, I’ve managed to get several new ones, including my tangle for the ten year anniversary of my Autism diagnosis and a tribute to my beloved Lucy. I had hoped to get more but with four months of the year getting swallowed up by a pinched nerve and a mystery illness, just getting out of the house has been a challenge, let alone going to a tattoo studio and sitting through a session (having said that, I do actually find being tattooed more relaxing than painful – so far at least). I’m pretty sure they weren’t necessarily the ones I thought I’d be getting when I imagined this year but I’m certainly not complaining! I love them all and I’m looking forward to getting more whenever the opportunity presents itself.
(Left: Two dragons by @valeries.tattoo // Right: Tangle by @gaiahart)
POETRY ORCHARD – I touched on this in last year’s Grateful post but, at the beginning of 2024, I joined an online poetry community called Poetry Orchard and it was, without doubt, one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve written so much poetry that I’m so proud of since I started going to their workshops, which are always fun and cathartic and inspiring; they’re always a highlight in my week. And I’ve met so many amazing people in this community: they’re all so lovely and thoughtful and such brilliant writers. There’s not one among them that shouldn’t be a published poet. We have the most interesting, moving discussions and I feel so seen and so understood (there’s a lot of overlapping experiences with mental health, neurodivergence, disability, chronic illness, and so on). I feel so lucky to have found this space and the friendships that have grown from it are so special to me.
MY FRIENDS – I’m so, so grateful for my friends, from the steadiness of my oldest friendships to the blossoming of the newer ones. Between working with Daisy and releasing new music in the first half of the year and my chronic pain and illness during the second half, I haven’t seen nearly enough of them but they’ve still been so supportive of me, of my music, as I’ve struggled with my health stuff… I feel so lucky to have such wonderful, kind, creative, and passionate people in my life; I’m inspired by them everyday and it’s an honour to play even the tiniest role in the incredible work they’re doing and putting out into the world, even if all I am is a witness and cheerleader. I see them changing the world, person by person, and I can’t be anything but thankful for the path that led me to each and every one of them.
RELEASING MUSIC AGAIN – This year, I finally, FINALLY, released new music and, not only that, but I released my beloved Autism centric project, Too Much And Not Enough, Vol. 1. I started working on this in 2021 but I’ve been thinking about it for even longer and now it’s finally out in the world and people are actually listening to it! I’ve had some amazing feedback on it and some of the stories people have shared with me upon hearing it have been so incredibly touching. I’m so grateful to everyone who has listened to it so far and I am so beyond grateful to everyone who helped me to make it what it is and then get it out in the world. Working with you all was an absolute joy and I could not have done this without you. It may have been the most stressful experience of my life but I have never been so proud of anything and I can’t wait to share what I have planned for 2026.

(Write This Out – Single, In The Mourning – Single, The Loneliest Whale – Single, Too Close And Not Enough, Vol. 1 – EP (top to bottom, left to right))
SO MANY GREAT SHOWS – Concert wise, I thought last year was probably unbeatable with so many incredible concerts – from the super special album release shows of my friends to the almost-four-hour-long epic that was Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour – but this year was also deeply special in its own way. Several of my friends released new music and I got to see them perform those songs live at the launch parties. Cora Rebel released her second EP, Small Town Murder, which I love even more than her first EP, Room For Wonder. I’m not kidding: I’m still obsessed with every single song. Similarly, I’ve been a fan of Jaz Beeson’s music since we met at university and the EP she released this year, Aren’t You Cool, is so good and her live performance has only gotten better since I last saw her and her band perform. I also made friends with the wonderful Tygermylk this year and when they released their debut album, Local Girl, Always Tired, I got to see them play the whole album live in a beautiful church in London; it was such a special event. I feel so lucky to have so many creative friends putting such awesome work out in the world and I’m so excited for what I know is coming in the new year. I also got to see Maisie Peters at one of her two Before The Bloom shows, where she gave us a sneak peak at her new album while revisiting past songs that she felt reflected the same energy as the new music, which I thought was a really cool way of structuring a gig; I got to see Maren Morris blow the roof off The Roundhouse with one of my greatest friends (we’ve been going to her shows together since The Hero Tour in 2017); and Gracie Abrams just blew me away on The Secret of Us Tour to the degree that I bought a ticket to a second show because she was so good. And I can’t talk about amazing gigs without talking about Erin LeCount (although I want to talk about her more in a minute). I saw her first in May where she headlined Bush Hall in London and she was amazing. I wasn’t able to see her the next time she was in London (because the accessibility team at the venue were actually the worst I’ve ever encountered) but when I saw her in December when she sold out KOKO in London, she was absolutely incredible: she only released her second EP in April and she’s already such a compelling performer. That second show was one of the best I’ve ever been to and I was so moved when she played my favourite songs that I cried (something I’m rarely able to do in public after years of masking). It was a deeply special year of concerts, just like 2024 but in a very different way. I’m grateful for every single one.
(Left: Sarah Close, Cora Rebel, Gracie Abrams, Erin LeCount (clockwise) // Middle: Gracie Abrams, crybby, Maisie Peters, Jaz Beeson (clockwise) // Right: Maren Morris, Tygermylk, Erin LeCount, Erin LeCount (clockwise))
And while it wasn’t a show, I did get to go and fangirl my little heart out at Ascension, a new Stargate convention. I got to see so many of my friends from The Companion, which was so much fun and although Amanda Tapping, one of my biggest heroes, had to pull out of the event, I got to meet Richard Dean Anderson who is the most wonderful human being and it was such a special experience. And he’s such a dog person so he and Daisy had some absolutely gorgeous moments together. It was Daisy’s biggest outing so far but she did brilliantly and was absolutely adored by everyone from the moment I took her jacket off to the moment I put it back on again – everyone was so respectful when she was working, which made the experience so much easier for the both of us, and it was so lovely to see how happy she made all of the guests and attendees, especially when she was off duty and was allowed to interact with everyone. Richard Dean Anderson called her his favourite convention attendee, which still makes me smile so much. I can’t wait for Ascension 2 in 2026!
ERIN LECOUNT’S MUSIC – I found Erin LeCount in late 2024 and her music completely dominated my listening time over the last year. She put out her second EP, I Am Digital, I Am Divine, in April, which is a stunning, beautifully cohesive project: the concept, the themes, the lyrics, the vocals, the melodies, the production… they’re all incredible. When she released the EP, she described it as being “about feeling dysfunctional and like there is something inherently wrong with you, the ‘digital’ being this neurotic, obsessive, ‘cold’ and very analytical part of me that felt like a battling a part of me that’s very sensitive, the ‘divine’ and the big overwhelming feelings. They’re two sides of the same coin that I’m always finding how to balance, and these songs are all those many imbalances and highs and lows.” I relate to that statement so much and I relate to every song, although my favourites are ‘Marble Arch,’ ‘Sweet Fruit,’ and ‘Silver Spoon’ (I’ve written more about the individual songs in my upcoming Songs of 2025 post so I won’t double up by deep diving into them here), with lyrics like “I am hard to love / Not what you thought / Am I? Am I? Am I? / Is there a fault in my core? / Did I do something wrong? / Did I? Did I? Did I?” and “I need someone / To look through and see me, to rip out the weeds / Growing where my heart was” and “I split the good wine, I panicked / A disaster, a knee-jerk reaction / Then everyone around us starts laughing / Is that how it’s meant to happen?” and “You were sweet, I got mean / And when we fight, I refuse to eat.” She’s since released two more songs, ‘808 HYMN‘ and ‘MACHINE GHOST,’ both of which I love but ‘MACHINE GHOST’ instantly became my favourite song of this year and probably for a long time to come; I feel the theme of dissociation so deeply (especially as I do more and more somatic work and the connection between my brain and body gets stronger – I actually listen to this song during therapy because my therapist says my body is more receptive to releasing trauma compared to when I’m not listening to it) and the lyrics, like “It hurts to stand, it hurts to stand / It hurts to stand, it hurts to stand,” and “Lights come on and there’s nobody home / And all my love pushed my back against the wall / Can someone tell god I should be feeling this more? / I can’t love you like I am supposed to / Baby, you’re the machine and I’m the ghost,” and “‘Cause everything starts hurting when I see the world in colour / And I wanna turn it off,” and “I’m not at the party and I’m not in my body,” feel like they could’ve been written for me. I feel so seen and so validated by her music and watching her produce all of her music and then recreate some of these tracks live on stage is so inspiring to me, so much so that I’ve started learning more about production for my own creative process when making music. I’ve already talked about seeing her live and how special that has been, her recent show at KOKO being one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. I wish I’d found her sooner but I’m so grateful that I found her when I did because her music means so much to me and watching her creative process and live performance develop in real time is so, so beautiful.
There has been so much to be thankful for, despite how difficult this year has been. In my experience, the relationship between gratitude and depression can be a complicated one, given how depression distorts reality and dampens emotions, and it’s something I’ve been struggling with for several years now. Sometimes engaging with that tug of war is just too hard, especially when I’m already working so hard in therapy, so the only thing I can do is acknowledge that it’s there – that it is complicated – while honouring the things in my life that are objectively positive, the things that make my life better. Sometimes that’s all you can do and that’s got to be enough.
Category: about me, animals, autism dog, depression, emotions, exercise, family, favourites, hydrotherapy, music, special interests, therapy, writing Tagged: actuallyautistic, altpop, altpop artist, asd, autism, autism assistance dog, autism dog, autism dogs, autism dogs cic, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic artist, autistic singer, autistic songwriter, autitic singer, cat, cat death, cat loss, chronic illness, chronic pain, chronically ill, content warning, depression, depressive episode, dog, erin lecount, family, family of cats, friends, heds, hydrotherapy, hydrotherapy exercises, hypermobile, hypermobile ehlers danlos syndrome, hypermobility, independent artist, indiepop, indiepop artist, live music, machine ghost, mental health, mental illness, mum, parents, pet death, pet loss, pinched nerve, poetry, poetry orchard, pool, singer, singersongwriter, somatic therapy, songwriter, swimming, swimming pool, tattoo, tattoos, therapist, therapy, trauma therapy, trd, treatment resistant depression, trigger warning, writing community
Posted on April 1, 2024
TW: Discussions of self harm.
Yes, I know I’m late and that Self Harm Awareness Month was March but my recent post (about the disastrous ending of my therapy sessions) took up so much time and energy and emotion that I just didn’t have the space to write anything else and certainly not in time for the end of March. But I did post this as part of my recent foray into TikTok and I thought it summed up my journey pretty well so it seemed fitting to share it here…







It was a moving experience to see so many people sharing such vulnerable stories but I think the experiences posted likely skewed towards: all of the stories that I saw ended positively, with the individual celebrating being clean of self harm for however long. And that’s great, don’t get me wrong; it’s amazing to see people share how hard they’ve worked to move forward, to process and heal and recover. But I think it’s often the case that those who are still struggling don’t feel able to share due to judgement or comparison to those ‘further down the road’ or because their stories aren’t traditional ones. I don’t consider mine exactly traditional and I think that’s because my self harm use has mostly been due to my Autism and my difficulty regulating my emotions. So I think it’s important to share that experience, as well as the fact that I don’t know what it will look like in the future and how that is a frightening concept.
I don’t have the answers and, in this season of my life, I don’t have any poignant, wise words either. I’m just taking it day by day because even a single day can feel overwhelming right now.
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, depression, emotions, mental health, self harm Tagged: adhd, asd, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, audhd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, complex post traumatic stress disorder, content warning, coping mechanism, cptsd, depression, mental health, mental illness, self harm, self harm awareness, self harm awareness month, self harm awareness month 2024, self injury, self injury awareness, tiktok, trauma, trd, treatment resistant depression, trigger, trigger warning, tw
Posted on November 5, 2023
TW: Mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts and urges.
It’s been a year since I started therapy again after an unintentional break, essentially starting again with a new therapist. It’s been a hard and emotional process, and at times a distressing one; just going to therapy can make you feel so vulnerable and so open to further hurt as you dig into the hard stuff – wading into dark waters that you’d rather ignore and pretend don’t exist, even as they’re eroding your mental health – that adding difficulties to that already difficult thing can feel unfairly cruel. So, given that I’m me, I thought that, perhaps, writing about it might be helpful and maybe not just for me but for anyone going through a similar transition. And if not helpful, then hopefully validating in some way.
I’d been seeing Therapist A for almost seven years when everything changed. She was taking leave and I was on my own.
Pre-2021, I’d seen Therapist A once or twice a week pretty consistently since early 2016. Even when the UK went into lockdown due to COVID-19 at the beginning of 2020, we continued our sessions online; I didn’t find them as productive but it was better than nothing. We continued that way for a while, trying to manage my crippling anxiety over the pandemic, working on issues that came up as I persisted with my now online Masters classes, and continuing to work on the issues that had landed me in therapy in the first place. But then the schedule began to slip: Therapist A’s home life was pulling her away from work and I was working myself into the ground in order to complete the final project of my Masters. I barely saw her in the last four months of the course, which I really struggled with: I was digging into some pretty hard stuff, writing song after song about my experience of being autistic, and I craved that safe space to play them to her, to hear her perspective on what I was saying, talk about the feelings they were bringing up, and she wasn’t there. I told myself that it was a short term thing and that, once the Masters was over and her stuff was resolved, the schedule of our sessions would go back to normal. I think it’s safe to say that, given the title of this post, it didn’t.
I finished the Masters in September 2021 and officially graduated, walking the stage, a few months later in November. I had reduced and stopped taking Phenelzine at this point, in preparation for trying ADHD meds (and we all know how appallingly that went), and my depression was creeping back in; the situation was getting pretty desperate. But luckily, that was when Therapist A reached out and we started having sessions again. We had a lot of catching up to do but, by mid-December, we were up to date. Unfortunately, the ADHD medication was already hitting me hard and my depression had gone from a state I recognised to a whole new level of despair with increasingly overwhelming suicidal thoughts. My most vivid memory from that time is sitting in Therapist A’s new office, staring at the unfamiliar rug and hearing my voice in my ears as I confessed to those thoughts, my voice completely flat (this is known as ‘flat affect,’ a recognised symptom of depression and other mental health conditions). It still makes me nauseous to think about, even though so much time has passed and my depression has gotten so much worse since; I think, in my head, that was the beginning of this awful, awful time.
My last session was on New Years Eve and I was drowning, all of the impending new beginnings feeling more like a threat than a promise. When we hung up, I felt achingly hollow and that was only the beginning of a terrible night. But that’s a story for another time. January was passing around me, aimless and anxious, when I finally heard from Therapist A. But instead of setting up our next session, she was letting me know that she was taking leave indefinitely. Her reasons aren’t mine to tell but, between those, my ongoing abandonment issues, and my overwhelmingly bad mental health, I was devastated, spiralling into some grotesque hybrid of a meltdown and a panic attack that went on for hours: I screamed, I cried, I scratched at my face, I tore at my hair, I shrieked like an animal in pain. I guess that’s what I was. I felt like I was trying to exorcise a corrosive demon from my body but nothing helped, nothing alleviated the pain. I was shattered as brutally as if I’d been hit by a wrecking ball. That’s what it felt like, what my life felt like.
Eventually I physically ran out of energy and fell asleep, too tired and emotionally drained to even engage with the world. My depression became more and more overwhelming, compounded by the devastating effects of the ADHD medications and the loss of a massive source of support in my life, and, for months afterwards, I barely got out of bed, barely ate, barely talked. I abandoned social media and I avoided mirrors at every opportunity, to the point where I started to forget what I looked like. The suicidal thoughts were only getting stronger, stronger than they’d ever been in my life, and the feeling of being intrinsically, irreparably broken was – and is – a constant weight in my chest.
I’m not sure when or why I started getting out of bed, why I decided that I needed to go back to therapy. I think I knew I was getting into a very precarious position mentally and the excruciating pain of being inside my head was getting so unbearable that I was willing to do anything to lessen the pressure. I did see a consultant at the local mental health unit but the experience was another traumatic one: after a panic attack at the front door, a junior doctor took my history and then brought in the consultant who told me about ECT and the Ketamine trials before telling me why I shouldn’t do them and recommending doing more of the things I love (which I’d already told him I couldn’t engage with because I was so depressed). So that didn’t improve my relationship with doctors and the medical profession.
For a short while, I worked with a therapist I’d met several years previously but the sessions only made me feel worse and while I have no doubt that it wasn’t intentional, I ended up feeling more broken and more traumatised by some of the things he said, trauma that I’m still carrying around with me. So I stopped seeing him and met with several new therapists, trying to get a feel for them and their methods before committing to someone new. But, just like with Therapist A, Therapist B was the first of the group that I met (a year ago yesterday, I believe) and between her therapeutic approach, her personality, and the fact that she’d brought along a dog she knew in order to put me at ease, she was the obvious choice.
As therapists, they both trained in several of the same disciplines and their skillsets overlap to a certain degree but, when discussing a particular issue, there were differences to how they’d approach it; there has been a fair amount of whiplash in getting use to Therapist B’s approach after so many years with Therapist A. But the point of this post isn’t to compare them – they’re both lovely people and very good at what they do, at least as far as I can tell – but rather to reflect on the process of moving from one to another and the feelings that that kicked up. And a lot of feelings there were – I even wrote a song about it called ‘Grave Digger.’ During the early sessions with Therapist B, we made a timeline of my life and discussed some of the biggest moments, many of which were difficult and distressing (and remain so to this day). Revisiting and recounting the hardest parts of my life was gruelling but I did my best to push through the internal resistance and breathe through the resulting turmoil; between that and the ongoing mental anguish, it was a difficult few months. I don’t mean to make it sound like one continuous torture because that isn’t true -we’ve talked about the good experiences that’ve made me who I am, of course, and there have been sessions where we’ve laughed a lot – but I think that building a strong relationship with a therapist and making progress will always involve periods of incredible vulnerability, which is always scary and, at times, painful.
Sometimes – okay, often – I feel like I’m not making any progress at all, partly because of all the disruption and the distress it’s caused. A year ago, I hadn’t expected to see 2023 and my depression and chronic suicidal thoughts haven’t lessened, even though I am taking Phenelzine again (at a higher dose, in fact) – after many discussions with Therapist B. It has made me more functional, to a certain degree, but the decision came with a price tag: my self harming escalated from cutting my arm to cutting my face. I’m not convinced anything’s changed; I don’t feel any better. But I can see that some things have changed and changed for the better, even though I can’t feel the effects yet: something has allowed me to start talking about some of the worst stuff in my brain, even if only a little. It’s something I could never have imagined doing so I know that that’s progress, even though I struggle to feel it.
I have heard from Therapist A several times now; the news has generally been positive, which has been a great relief (and I appreciate having a little less uncertainty in my life). Therapy is continuing as normal – the current version of normal at least – which I’m pretty sure is a good thing: the idea of trying to work my way through all of the emotions that I know would come up as a result of any potential change makes me feel physically nauseous.
I’m not always convinced that I’ve adjusted and sometimes I forget that I’m not going to see Therapist A, my body moving in the direction of that office as the car turns down a different road; that experience is more ingrained than I had realised at the time. And I know I’m still carrying a lot of hurt and anger over the whole thing, even though over a year has passed. I’m not angry at the people involved – nobody chose any of this – but there is anger and, although I’ve been slower to realise it, hurt too. I think it’s easier to be angry than to be hurt. Not always but sometimes. And, as I said, I have abandonment issues, issues that I’ve struggled with for a long time, which – unsurprisingly – have been exacerbated by this whole thing. It’s hard to lose someone that you trusted to never leave (a naïve ideal, I know) and it’s hard to trust someone new, ignoring the whispers that they’re just another person who will inevitably walk away. I think these issues are important to mention but they probably need their own blog post rather than taking up space here: when talking about changing therapists, it’s not something that everyone has mixed into the equation. All of that said, I’m trying to trust and I think that, for the most part, I am, even if it does sometimes feel like a conscious, concentrated effort. The progress isn’t as fast as I’d hoped it would be when I committed to therapy again last year but the proof is there. I’m sharing things I never thought I’d share and that’s certainly not nothing.
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, covid-19 pandemic, depression, emotions, medication, meltdowns, mental health, self harm, suicide, therapy, treatment, university, writing Tagged: abandonment, abandonment issues, actuallyautistic, adhd, adhd medication, antidepressants, asc, asd, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, autism, autism spectrum condition, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, autistic artist, autistic meltdown, autistic songwriter, covid, covid-19, cptsd, dbt, depression, dialectical behaviour therapy, ect, electroconvulsive therapy, fear of abandonment, flat affect, graduation, ketamine, ketamine trials, masters, masters degree, masters degree in songwriting, medical trauma, medication, meltdown, mental illness, online therapy, panic attack, phenelzine, radically open dialectical behaviour therapy, rodbt, self harm, self injury, songwriter, songwriting, suicidal, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, suicidal urges, therapist, therapy, trauma, trd, treatment resistant depression, university

Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Finding Hope