In my work with high-functioning clients who struggle with perfectionism, self-criticism and feeling not good enough, I've noticed a distinct pattern: most are carrying a lot of responsibility, either at home or professionally- or both. Many work in caring roles, in education, social care, medicine and mental health settings. Some are caring for elderly or unwell family members, or doing most of the childcare. Others just seem to feel the weight of everyone else's problems and emotions, as if they were their own. 

These clients are highly attuned to other people's emotional states and can read a room with astonishing accuracy. They often spend much of their time and energy supporting and accommodating emotionally unavailable or dysregulated family members. They tend to fall into the rescuer role- taking responsibility for soothing and stabilising others' emotions without even realising they are doing it. 

Typically masters of containing and masking their own emotions, they will often put others' needs first, at the expense of their own comfort, convenience or preferences. For this reason, they sometimes struggle to maintain healthy boundaries and to make time for themselves. 

Helpers often struggle to show vulnerability, or ask others for help. Thus, they create the impression of being fine, whilst silently feeling overwhelmed, lonely, anxious and maybe resentful that they are expected to carry everyone else's load. 

So why does this role become a recurring pattern for so many? While everyone’s story is different, a handful of underlying dynamics often play a part:

• They grew up in volatile or unpredictable home environments, where they had to constantly read the emotional climate and adjust their own behaviour to keep themselves — and often others — safe
• Some grew up with a caregiver who was emotionally explosive, or in a family where disagreements were never handled safely or constructively. Over time, they became hyper‑vigilant — constantly monitoring the emotional atmosphere and working hard to minimise conflict, because conflict simply didn’t feel safe
• They were noticed and rewarded for being easy, agreeable, helpful and independent. They may have had a sibling whose behaviour drew a lot of negative attention, and they quickly learned that acting out led to punishment, thus reinforcing their compliant nature. Helpfulness may then have become internalised as a condition of worth, or part of their identity
• They might have grown up with a family member who needed significant care or support — perhaps a sibling with learning difficulties or a parent with a long‑term health condition — and they learned early to step into the responsible, attentive role that kept the household functioning. Perhaps they were even explicitly given extra responsibility, and treated like an older child than they really were
• Their family may have instilled messages like “always put others first,” “don’t make a fuss,” “don’t trust your own feelings,” or “don’t inconvenience anyone,” leaving them little room to develop a healthy relationship with their own emotional needs
• They may have been made to feel that their own emotions were not safe, welcome or important, and so attending to others' emotions became a way of avoiding their own

For these people, helping became a childhood survival strategy. Underlying it is a deep‑seated belief: I must keep others happy by being good, capable, and never a burden. That inevitable striving and hyper‑vigilance creates a constant sense of falling short, often evolving into perfectionism and harsh self‑criticism in adulthood.

If you recognise yourself in the descriptions above, you might now be asking what to do with that awareness. For many, helping has become part of their identity — threaded through their work, their relationships, and their everyday life.

You may genuinely enjoy supporting others and be in a role that brings real fulfilment and even joy. The key is learning where your responsibility ends and theirs begins. You can still be nurturing and caring, but in a way that empowers others to take ownership of their own feelings rather than managing those feelings for them. This can feel messy and uncomfortable at first, and that’s okay. You can notice that familiar pull to step in as a younger part of you, and gently reassure that part that it’s safe now to pause, to step back, and to respond rather than react.

As you begin to step back, you create more space and energy to focus on yourself. As your own feelings become easier to notice, you can start responding to your needs for rest, joy, and support. Small habits and rituals — journaling, meditation, or simple enjoyable activities — help reinforce the belief that you are deserving of time, care, and attention. You may even find yourself reaching out more to others: friends, family, colleagues, or a therapist, building support rather than carrying everything alone.

When you begin to see how these early patterns shaped your instinct to help, your fear of conflict, and even your perfectionism or “not enough” feelings, you can start to meet yourself with more compassion.  As you learn to step back, notice your own emotions, and set clearer boundaries, you gradually loosen the grip of those old survival strategies. You make space for a kinder inner voice, one that recognises your worth without needing you to be perfect, endlessly capable, or responsible for everyone else. And from that place, you can begin to support others in a way that honours them — and honours you.

Do people often say things to you like I don't know how you always stay so calm, or you always seem to have it all together, while inside you feel like a ball of anxiety, moving through life at a hundred miles an hour? 

Others assume you're absolutely fine, because you do seem to be coping. You're getting things done- and doing them well. Maybe you're acing your studies. Perhaps you're successful in a high-flying career and/or managing a home and family. Remembering all the birthdays, organising the parties, meeting the deadlines. 

But the truth is, you feel frantic, frazzled and overwhelmed.  Your head is filled with a never-ending mental to-do list, and there's a loud inner critic calling you out whenever you forgot something, or even did a thing less than perfectly.

You might have considered opening up to friends, family or colleagues about how you're really feeling, but this is difficult because they all rely on you. You're the one they turn to with their issues; you don't want to burden them. Being vulnerable can be especially tricky if you are in a senior position at work, or the one who holds everyone up in your family or social spheres. 

You might tell yourself that it's not that bad, really. After all, isn't everyone busy? Surely that's just life in the modern world. As long as you just keep going, running the treadmill of life, everything will be ok. Perhaps you comfort yourself that one day, when the kids are older, or you retire, then things might be easier. You might get some time for yourself?  Here's the thing: there is always another task that needs doing, or someone who needs something. If you're always the one who keeps the wheels turning, that's unlikely to change. 

So, you're probably wondering, is it possible for things to be any different? And how, if everyone else is so reliant on you? I believe change is possible, and that a few very small tweaks can make a big difference.

It's likely that your sympathetic nervous system is often in a highly mobilised state. In other words, you're on high alert, ready for action: fight or flight. It's normal to move in and out of this state, but it might be that you're not getting a lot of time to rest and decompress, if you're super busy tending to others. This can lead to feeling exhausted, burnt out and even physical health issues. The first step towards change is starting to notice what stress and anxiety feel like in your body, so that you can begin attending to your needs. It can be helpful to take a moment to pause each day, and notice what's going on in your body. A body scan can be a good way to check where you might be holding tension and stress. 

Once you learn to listen to your body's signals, you will be more aware of when you need to take some time to relax. This doesn't need to be anything big (as lovely as a holiday, or a day at the spa might be); it's more about building those micro-moments of rest into your everyday life. This could be as simple as taking a few deep breaths in the car between work and home, or spending some time barefoot in the garden, looking closely at the plants and wildlife. It might be sitting down to eat a meal, and taking a bit longer than you normally would. You will find what works for your nervous system. 

Another change you might make is to put some boundaries in place. For instance, setting a time limit on how long you spend on the phone to your friend or relative, or turning off email notifications after a certain time in the evenings.  You might also delegate some of your responsibilities to others. This may involve sitting down with family, or co-workers and having a conversation about how you would like things to be. 

Perhaps you've already thought about these things, but doing them seems unrealistic to you. I realise that the prospect of communicating your needs to others, and taking time for yourself probably feels very daunting. It requires a significant shift in mindset. This might involve some inner work, perhaps through therapy, where you start exploring core beliefs about yourself and challenging narratives you have internalised from childhood, or even society. 

Once you start believing that you and your wellbeing are important, and taking seriously what your body is telling you, you can start to take action. Here are some pointers that might be helpful:

• Establish some non-negotiables. What is the bare minimum you require for, or from yourself. For example, I will take time for a breakfast every day, or I need at least 24 hours' notice if someone needs something from me
• Give yourself permission. Allow yourself to have an off-day, or to switch off your phone for an hour, or have a nap. 
  
• Assess your expectations- of yourself and others. Are they realistic or too high? It is ok to adapt your expectations based on where you, or others are at. 
• Have a conversation with the important people in your life. Communicate how you are feeling and how they could support you moving forward. 
• Say yes to the right things, and no to everything else. If someone asks you to do something, it's ok to say you need some time to think about it. As you consider it, ask yourself, how does the thought of this make me feel? Does it feel light or heavy? If it feels draining even to think about, it's ok to say no. On the other hand, you might start saying yes to some of the things you have been wanting to do for a while.
• Diarise space for yourself to do fun or restful things, or just to do nothing at all!

Just because things have always been a certain way, doesn't mean they have to go on like that forever. I wish you all the best as you take this journey of self-kindness. 

The word spirituality means different things to different people, and in that sense might feel quite vague. It encompasses related ideas such as faith, religion, the supernatural- things which invoke fear, curiosity and comfort, depending on personal beliefs and experiences.

While I do hold my own personal faith, currently finding expression in Christian contemplative practices, I use the term Spirituality in this blog, to describe that innate, deep-down desire in each of us to connect with something more than ourself, such as humanity, nature, the universe, or the divine. I would add that it also includes a search for meaning, purpose and wholeness. For me, counselling touches something of this desire, and I'd like to try to unpack why. Although my own beliefs are bound to inform my thoughts, I hope that what I write will resonate with you, whatever your belief system.  

Connection
There is something about connecting with another human being on an emotional level that brings a sense of relief- like coming home. You're no longer alone in this.  Personally, I have experienced this both as client and as counsellor. As client, it's about feeling seen, witnessed, understood. As counsellor, it's the feeling of gratitude that someone has trusted you enough to show their vulnerability. There's a feeling of wholeness that comes from relating to each other in a deep way. 

Connection enables empathy, and vice-versa. Empathy is the embodiment of love. Having empathy allows us to move beyond our own personal sphere, and enter into someone else's. As this happens, we realise that the feeling of separateness from others is nothing but "a kind of optical delusion of...consciousness", as Einstein put it. 

Empathy allows us to have compassion on our fellow human.  When we can hold this compassion in the face of darkness and despair, it can feel like we're tuning into a divine frequency, accessing something powerful beyond our own capacity. 

Authenticity
Authenticity is central to person-centred counselling; if we counsellors can dare to be our authentic selves, perhaps our clients will see that it's ok for them to be too. Of course, we can never do this perfectly, but it's something we aspire to.

The art of being ones true self- whatever that means- is a truly liberating thing. Counselling so often feels like a process of peeling off layers- defenses, masks, the ego- to get to the essence of a person. In his book No Bad Parts, Richard Schwartz characterises the essential self in terms of 8 C's: calm, curiosity, compassion, confidence, clarity, courage, creativity and connectedness. In his work with clients, using the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model, he has observed that these qualities seem to be universally inherent in all individuals.

This fits well with my own views about human nature and potential. For me, the spiritual journey is about healing the wounded parts so that these innate characteristics can shine through. This is, of course, a lifelong journey. Therapy can offer a focused and supportive space for this to happen. 

Spaciousness
Counselling challenges all of our preconceived ideas about the nature of reality, including how we see other people.  In hearing others' stories, we see ourselves. Intentionally extending positive regard- a core condition of person-centred therapy- allows us to put judgement aside and commit to embracing the whole person in front of us, warts and all.

This process creates a spaciousness within, making room for curiosity, openness, and the potential for continuing growth and creativity. 

Purpose
Counselling helps people understand who they are. What's important to them? What are their values? Their strengths? What direction do they feel drawn in? What are their dreams? 

As clients begin to face their emotions and fears, they develop courage which allows them move through the world with more agency and purpose. Many clients make significant changes to their lives, such as having more meaningful communication in their relationships, implementing healthy boundaries, changing careers, or pursuing long-lost dreams and goals they never thought they'd be able to reach. 

I believe that finding out who we are in the world, living in a way that aligns with our values and priorities, and using our gifts and strengths to make the world a better place is walking a spiritual path. 

Personally my counselling work is inseparable from my spiritual life, because it aligns so naturally with what's important to me. It enables me to walk the path I feel drawn to. 

Final thoughts
Ritual is an important part of the spiritual life for many people, especially those who follow a religion or faith. To me, there is something about the regularity and time-bound nature of counselling sessions that makes them feel like a ritual. Something sacred. For those of us for whom spirituality is an integral part of life, every daily act can be seen as something spiritually significant. But there's something about the way we show up in counselling that makes this feel heightened, somehow. 

I wonder what you might take away from this? How comfortable are you considering yourself as a spiritual being? How might you draw on the principles within counselling to enhance your own spiritual life? 

Do the Autumn and Winter seasons feel like a slog?
Many of us notice shifts in our energy, mood, and emotions as the light changes. Lower daylight levels influence our physiology, and as a result, our internal world. For some, these changes feel mild; for others, they can be far more intense sometimes in ways that some would describe as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).

It’s important to remember that our bodies are meant to respond to seasonal changes. Moving with the rhythm of the year—rather than resisting it—can be deeply supportive. Before the Industrial Revolution, people naturally structured their days around daylight. Today, living in a world of artificial light can disconnect us from our natural signals, making it harder to honour what our bodies are asking for. When energy dips and fatigue creeps in, it may be a sign to slow down. Allowing yourself to do less and rest more is a powerful act of self-kindness. This idea of embracing a slower, quieter season is beautifully explored by Katherine May in her book Wintering.

If we stay open to them, Autumn and Winter can also offer small glimmers of joy: cosy evenings with a hot chocolate by the fire; the sparkle of frost on leaves during a cold morning walk; time carved out for reading, crafting, baking, or journaling. Wonder is often right in front of us—we’re just moving too fast, or feeling too overwhelmed, to notice.

If you’re feeling especially low, isolated, or disconnected, it might be time to lean more intentionally into self-care and seek support from friends, family, or a therapist. And if you know this season tends to be difficult, consider planning ahead to soften the months ahead.

Gentle Ways to Care for Yourself This Winter
❄ Gentle movement: Try 10 minutes of yoga, stretching, or Qi Gong each day
❄ Creativity: Keep an art journal or sketchbook, experiment with new recipes, or start a small craft project
❄ Connection: Arrange check-ins with a friend, join a class or local group, volunteer over Christmas, or reach out to a therapist
❄ Realistic expectations: Let go of non-essentials; this may be a season for rest, reflection, and reset—not high productivity
❄ Comforts: Hot baths, soft blankets, candles, soothing playlists, warm drinks
❄ Mantras to return to:
• This is a season; it will not last forever.
• I have been here before.
• There will be easier moments.
• Others also struggle. I’m not alone.

If you’d like support as you move through this season, please feel free to get in touch to book a session. You may also find some of my therapeutic resources helpful—visit my Etsy store at creativesoulstherapy.etsy.com.

Hands up if you identify with the following:

• You zone out when in a large group of people or in a crowded place
• You feel exhausted after superficial conversations with lots of people
• You have vivid or frightening dreams after watching a high-intensity or scary drama on T.V
• You hate feeling rushed, or put under pressure to make a decision
• You're easily startled by loud noises or sudden movements
• You hate wearing stiff or scratchy clothing
• You're really thrown by last minute changes or disruption to your schedule
• You've sometimes been labelled "shy"
• You are often moved to tears by a piece of art or music
• You get "hangry" when you've not eaten
• You notice the energy in a space, and feel other people's emotions deeply

If this is you all over, chances are you're a highly sensitive person- an HSP.  This term was coined in the 90's by Elaine Aron, and is used to describe those who are deeply sensitive- both physically and emotionally- to their external environments. 

When I first read Aron's book, The Highly Sensitive Person, it was both reassuring and affirming. I know that our cultural dependence on labels can at times be problematic, however, like so many of the neurodivergent clients I work with, I felt a great relief at finally being given a lens to through which to make sense of my experience of the world.

I think one of the biggest benefits of reading that book was that it gave me an understanding which, in turn, allowed me to be far more compassionate on myself. In the past, I've often blamed myself for wanting to leave a social gathering early, for getting irritable when hungry, or for being quiet around people I don't know. I came up with my own labels: unsociable, unfriendly, selfish... Now I know that I just fall into that 30% of the population with highly attuned nervous systems! 

My body is pretty good at telling me when I'm overstimulated, and I'm grateful to it. This can show up as headaches or pressure in my head, tension in my muscles, anxiety, feeling "wound-up", irritable or hyper. This is when I know I need to rest, take some time away from people, put my phone down. If I listen, I can recover pretty quickly, and get on with life.

I've also learnt that many of the things I like about myself- the ability to empathise with people, the creativity, the care for living beings- are down to this sensitivity. I'm in good company too; it's thought that Princess Diana, Jane Goodall, Van Gogh, Einstein, Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King were all HSPs! 

If you're an HSP reading this and wondering how to navigate the challenges inherent in being wired this way, I would recommend reading Aron's book. One of the main take-aways for me was that it isn't helpful to compare yourself to non HSPs. It's ok that I can't pack as much as they do into my week, and that I factor in rest and recovery time after socially demanding events. 

I think the thing that helps me to recover most quickly when fatigued, is spending time in nature. I can often actually feel my nervous system relax- my breath deepening, my muscles easing- when I'm amongst the trees or by a river or lake. Indeed, there's plenty of science to back this up. But you'll have your own go-to places or activities which help, and it's useful to know what these are. 

HSPs have a lot to offer to this world, if we can find the right balance. My parting challenge to you is to honour your sensitive nervous system and treasure this special gift. 

I am writing this blog just over a week after wildfires started ravaging Los Angeles, leaving a trail of destruction behind. It has been unusually dry in Southern California for this time of year, meaning that vegetation has been ready tinder in the face of intensely strong winds. Many people have lost their homes, and several have died.

It feels like this is just another extreme weather event to add to all the others regularly being reported on the news these days. If you pay any attention to what is going on in the world, it's difficult to ignore the fact that our climate is heating at an alarming rate. And yet, it feels like so many people ARE ignoring it. 

Of course, this is just the tip of the iceberg (an apt metaphor!), but I am not going to spend any more time spelling out the problems, as I imagine those reading this will be all too aware of the seriousness of the situation for the planet.

Neither am I here to try to make you feel better by downplaying the issues; the chances are that denial or minimisation by others around you, or those in power, has exacerbated your distress, making you feel more isolated in your concern. The anxiety you're feeling is a perfectly natural and logical response to threat and danger. I do, however, hope to shed some light on how to manage these feelings, and how to transform them into a force for positive change. 

We hear the terms climate anxiety (or eco-anxiety) used a lot, but I don't think this really captures the range of emotions people feel in response to the global heating catastrophe. I think it's very common for people to feel grief over the devastation they see and the loss of so many species. Anger and frustration are understandable emotions, when governments and corporations not only fail to take responsibility, but actually act in ways that perpetuate the problems. Guilt about living in ways that contribute to the problem, because it's impossible not to, and also of being somewhat removed from the immediate and most serious results of climate change. And fear, dread and powerlessness at watching the disaster unfold with such force and inevitability, whilst being unable to stop it. To better acknowledge this range of emotional phenomena, I prefer to use the term eco-distress, though somehow, as I write that down, I'm realising that maybe this is something too big for words. 

While some might say that it's best just to avoid thinking about this stuff and focus on the good things in life, I would argue that living as if these things aren't important to you, when actually they are, leads to a cognitive dissonance  that can be anxiety-inducing in itself. But how do you carry on caring without spiraling into deep despair? How do you continue to try to live in planet-friendly ways when it all feels like a tiny drop in the ocean, and there's a massive tsunami heading towards you (another fitting analogy?!). 

I think the trick is to hold the tension between despair and hope. A little like the dual process theory of grief, whereby the bereaved individual flits between mourning the devastating loss, and re-building their lives. The thing is to believe that your actions do matter, however small they are. Even if you never see their results. You may well be helping to open up opportunities for climate conversations or inspiring someone else to do their bit. Whether it's making little changes to your lifestyle, or taking part in larger-scale activism, it all counts. Taking action can help you to overcome the feelings of powerlessness, and living out your values allows you to feel more confident and authentic. 

Anxiety feels very isolating, so joining communities of like-minded people can help you to combat this. You are not alone, even if your immediate family and friends don't seem to get it. Rather than trying to have conversations where you get shut down, find spaces where your voice will be heard and taken seriously. There is solidarity in standing with others who share your beliefs and priorities- it can be hugely validating. 

Finally, don't shy away from the uncomfortable feelings. Instead, try to work through them. Therapy can be a good place to do this, and as a nature therapist who shares your concern for the planet, I may be able to offer you support. 

Resource List:
www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/how-to-cope-with-eco-anxiety.html
www.theguardian.com/wellness/2023/nov/16/climate-anxiety-tips
​www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m00050qr

You may have heard therapists talk about the inner child, and wondered what on earth they meant. Put simply, it's a part of you that holds your early childhood experiences, including memories, emotions, fears and dreams. We all have a child self within us, but it is often outside of our conscious awareness. Despite this, it is very much alive, and likely to be in the driving seat during stressful or anxious moments. 

You have probably had moments where something made you cry like a baby, have a tantrum like a toddler, or feel like a frightened child, and noticed feeling younger than your actual age? You are responding as you did when you were a child, because that part has been triggered. 

So why, as adults, are we still so impacted by our child self? Some may say we should just grow up and use our rational adult mind to reason our way out of this immature outburst. Yet this just serves to supress the child, who is trying to tell us something important. There is often some unresolved issue, or trauma that needs to be attended to. It may be that you were not heard and empathised with by your own caregivers, and so the child is crying out for that care and attention from you now. 

In therapy, engagement with this child part is referred to as inner child work. With support, you can learn how to listen to this child with curiosity and compassion, rather than shutting them down, which only reinforces feelings such as rejection, worthlessness and despair that came from being judged or disregarded as a child. Instead of shaming the child, you are offering empathy and validating the reactions they had to their experiences. By doing this, you are re-parenting your child part, allowing them to become a fully integrated component of the whole self. 

Here are some pointers which may help you engage positively with your inner child: 

• When you find yourself reacting to a situation in a very emotional way, try to affirm that it is ok to feel what you are feeling. Ask your child what they need in order to feel comforted and to be able to deal with the situation. 
• When the inner critic (internalised parent or other significant authority figure) pipes up with things like "stop being so weak- pull yourself together", notice and gently challenge this narrative. 
• If you have your own children, or there are children in your life who you are close to, think about how you might treat them when they are upset. What do they need in that moment? Can you offer a similar response to your own inner child? 
• Think about what has triggered the child part to react. Do you notice a pattern of particular people or situations that evoke this response? Is there something about these instances that reminds you of your childhood experiences? Is there material to be processed from the past?
• The inner child also holds the key to joy, playfulness and creativity. By re-connecting with the child, you can get in touch with these aspects of your personality again, which may have been subdued over the years, particularly if they received disapproval.  Try doing activities you used to love as a child, or try out new fun things! Children tend to approach the world in a less inhibited way than adults, so allowing yourself to let go of the need to be neat, tidy, or do something "well" can help! 
• Try therapy, or reflective exercises such as journaling to help you with your inner child work. 

I rarely come away from time spent in nature without some new thought or insight. But this only happens when I slow down and observe my surroundings- and put my phone away! Nature is a great teacher, if we let it be. 

Seasons
In the UK, we have felt the shift from summer to Autumn pretty dramatically over the past few weeks, with the drop in temperature and the dark nights drawing in. 

The changing seasons can teach us so much. I have learnt to pay attention to the way my body and mind respond to the seasons. For instance, Summer has typically been associated with rest and leisure for me, so I try to make time for travel, fun activities and spending time with people. Conversely, Autumn brings a nostalgic sense of excitement that always came with starting a new term of school, or starting university. I still get that increased energy and excitement to begin new things at this time of year, so I try to harness that. 

The seasons can also be a good metaphor to help us understand and embrace our own seasons of life, whether that is the natural cycles our bodies experience, or the different life ages and stages. There can also be emotional seasons, such as a period of grieving, or a time of great joy and excitement. We know seasons don't last forever, so we learn to inhabit them for their duration. 

Flow
Nature is always in process, always evolving and adapting to environmental factors. Being part of nature, this is equally true of us humans too. We are continually learning and finding ways to best survive our present conditions. As Carl Rogers, Father of the Person-centred approach, put it: 

“a person is a fluid process, not a fixed and static entity; a flowing river of change, not a block of solid material; a continually changing constellation of potentialities, not a fixed quantity of traits.”

This gives us a lot of hope, because we can often make changes-subtle or drastic- to our environment  to give ourselves the best chance to thrive. This might mean leaving an oppressive relationship or community, or seeking the support of someone who believes in and encourages us, to help us better cope with difficult situations that we can't change. 

When we observe nature, we notice a continual ebb and flow. A push-pull of opposites: day and night, wet and dry, movement and stillness. It feels like there is a constant battle going on between the elements, yet it does not feel hostile. Rather, it feels that each has their moment, each as important as the other. This creates a kind of rhythm- a dance. This reminds us of our own experience of life: the feast and famine, times of plenty and times of scarcity, times of gratitude and times of longing. 

Struggle
Despite how calm nature can appear on the surface, each species' fight for survival is real, and sometimes brutal; nature red in tooth and claw. This struggle reminds us of our own, that is an inevitable part of growth and change. 

Diversity
One of the most beautiful things about nature, in my opinion, is the great diversity of species. The sheer number of varieties of plants and animals  co-existing and supporting one another within complex and finely balanced ecosystems.  

This speaks to our own diversity, within the human species. There are things  common to all humankind; this gives us a sense of belonging and connectedness. Yet difference is also something to be celebrated and embraced. 

It feels like it's been a long time coming, but Summer is most definitely here! The sun seems to bring us all out of our shells, and suddenly there is a buzz of life and activity, which can lift our spirits and make us feel a bit more sociable.

That said, the Summer can bring its own set of challenges which might impact people's mental health. So let's consider what these are and how we might navigate them.

Summer is the season of events, with everything from festivals, to fairs, to family fun days. If you use social media platforms, it's likely you're bombarded with advertised events, and with so much choice, this can be a bit overwhelming!

If we're not careful, we can buy into the idea that to be an interesting or likeable person, we have to do as much as possible. Cram our lives with as much activity as we can. But in reality, this can leave us tired and with no down-time to properly rest. What's more, many of these events cost money, and in a cost-of-living crisis, that can put a lot of pressure on families who are just trying to get by. 

On a similar note, many people live for the next dream holiday, building it up as an idyllic escape- an opportunity to finally relax and indulge. Again, these holidays can be expensive and are perhaps not always as perfect as we'd hoped. I'm not trying to paint a negative picture here; holidays are a lovely treat, they're just not necessarily going to provide that silver bullet when it comes to day-to-day mental health and wellbeing (IMO!). 

For people who experience social anxiety, or have strained relationships with family, an increase in the number of invitations to social functions- bbqs, weddings, parties- might feel very difficult. Similarly, loss and unfulfilled dreams can make those social get-togethers particularly painful. 

Those with children might feel daunted at the prosect of the sprawling summer holidays: how to keep the kids occupied and entertained, especially if you're not feeling too great? Conversely, people who are quite isolated may feel loneliness more intensely if groups or classes they normally attend take a break over the summer. 

Obviously all of these things are part of the ebb and flow of life, but here are some things to consider that might make it all a little easier. 

1) Planning: thinking ahead about what you might like to do over the summer, and budgeting for this, might help to find the right balance of busyness and cost. Who and what are your priorities? It's ok to say no to other invitations. 

2) Boundaries: it's ok to limit the amount of time or money you spend on things, and to be firm about this with others (even if they don't understand). 

3) Self-care: plan to do some things that "fill your cup". What brings you joy, inspiration, excitement? What helps you properly relax? Could you go on a retreat, have a day at the beach, or spend a day reading in the garden? 

4) Less is more: holidays or days out don't need to be expensive or extravagant. If you have kids, they will enjoy time spent with you more if you are able to be present, not stressing over cost or time schedules. 

I realise everyone is different and facing their own challenges; you may not feel the issues raised here apply to you, or perhaps there are other difficulties in your life that are not mentioned here. Either way, I hope you find some time to slow down and unwind this summer.