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ON MINDS, MEANING AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.

The Price of a Lifetime of Yes

You learnt to read the room, anticipate other people’s needs and make yourself easy to be around. Then one day, you stop making yourself smaller to keep everyone else comfortable.
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More to think about

Therapy Doesn’t Fix People. So, What Does It Actually Do?

There seems to be an expectation that after enough therapy, we should emerge as psychologically upgraded versions of ourselves. Calm under pressure, secure in our relationships and entirely comfortable with criticism. It sounds wonderful, yet suspiciously unlike being human.

Does Loving Again Mean Betraying Your Dead Partner?

Some people really can die of a broken heart, yet most broken hearts keep beating through the funeral, the condolences and the first night alone. Eventually, life begins to grow around the grief, and sometimes you fall in love again—carrying a quiet guilt that nobody else sees.

Is It Manifestation, or Is It Just Psychology?

Somewhere between vision boards, positive affirmations and becoming the highest version of ourselves, manifestation has become a booming industry. Beneath the promises of dream lives lies a far more interesting idea: what we believe about ourselves shapes how we experience the world.

Sisterhood

Some books stay with us because of their stories, while others stay with us because of the people we meet inside them. When I finished Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale, it was Vianne—the sister trying to keep the people she loved alive—who stayed with me long after the final page.

A Note from the writer

I Am a Therapist, but I Am Also Human

On the curious expectation that understanding life should make you exceptionally good at living it.
Being a therapist has never stopped me from making a questionable decision. It has, on occasion, simply meant I understood the psychology behind it rather well.

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Why I Still Love Sex and the City (Even When I Know Better)

A PRETTY THOUGHT · CULTURE & PERSONAL ESSAY On growing older, questionable love stories and the four women I keep coming back to. I was 19 when I first watched Sex and the City, and I wanted what those four women had. Not necessarily the men. I wanted the endless brunches, girls' holidays, conversations about absolutely anything and the reassuring
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