tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27596962056178211812024-08-30T15:46:54.896+01:00femaletherapy@hotmail.co.ukFemale therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-26296153364792884122008-06-06T15:35:00.003+01:002008-07-15T18:06:23.337+01:00

Dear Boss, This is a hard letter to write but one of necessity. I am handing in my notice and would like to arrange a suitable handover. It will come as no surprise ,that I have become increasingly unhappy within my work and need to be back in a penniless but creative environment. I have had four good years within the company and have thoroughly enjoyed my time. I believe I have made great

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-78074995347732164362008-05-13T15:26:00.006+01:002008-07-15T16:37:56.456+01:00

The train carriage pulls up into a picturesque station and judging from recent breakdowns, I fear I am on the outskirts of ‘lalaland’. Inhaling deeply, I step down onto the empty platform. Tugging my suitcase I walk through the ticket office into an idyllic village where life meanders, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of London life. The sun beats down and already the fresh air is blowing

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-49719256814084316322008-05-06T12:58:00.002+01:002008-05-06T13:01:37.413+01:00

Standing by the drinks machine waiting for my third cup of coffee to percolate its way into my mug, everything suddenly appears a little unbearable and I feel so incredibly tired. In that one moment I have an overwhelming desire to let my legs give way, crumble slowly onto the carpet tiled floor, assume the foetal position and close my eyes. Sanity thankfully perks up and the rational part of my

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-45025565630980049922008-03-31T12:39:00.006+01:002008-04-02T09:42:23.378+01:00

I have it all planned. Over the past two weeks occupational decisions have been made, I have researched my options, found the ideal career to pursue and printed off the appropriate application forms. I was almost surprised I had not figured it out before. I have found a job with my name written all over it and no it’s not a wine taster or strip club owner (but actually they could be a good back

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-54142038000779033942008-03-19T18:12:00.004+00:002008-03-26T11:35:53.499+00:00

I am escaping London for the week, leaving on the seven o’clock out of Kings Cross and heading north on an eagerly awaited works trip. I am looking forward to spending time with some different work mates, stay in the country Spa hotel, inhale a good dose of fresh air and take a moment to pause and feel better.Waking at five is not my favourite way to start the day but within record time I am

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-50714223004463462562008-03-11T12:40:00.015+00:002008-03-11T15:49:35.891+00:00

Question: 'If you could remove from life one thing, what would it be? Death? Remorse? Pain?' Answer: 'No! The great object of life is sensation. Cut out the pauses for only in our most vibrant experiences, be they great joy or great woe, lies real learning!' (Quote: Lord Byron from Trust Byron) I always loved that quote. Viewing life as an exciting rollercoaster that should be lived to its

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-78252635318512996402008-03-02T21:43:00.005+00:002008-03-07T14:00:59.690+00:00

I have been staring at the same four walls for three days. Within this eight by six foot room the lack of sunlight and glare from the naked bulb is making my eyes sting and I feel incredibly nauseous. Every muscle hurts, my hands are raw and scratched and I am feeling detached. Lost in my thoughts, I am still aware of a faint voice in the background which I think I tuned out hours ago. Tiredness

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-53639807772925430632008-02-18T17:18:00.009+00:002008-02-20T21:58:02.676+00:00

When I could first walk and talk I think my family became confused as to whether they had had a son after all. I had no interest in anything related to girls. Not only did I dress like a boy I wanted to be one. It was fun being a boy, you got to wear trousers, climb trees and get messy. Boy’s could pretend to drive Knight-Rider Kit car and wear A-Team pyjamas. More importantly they were not

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-46616885437282355592008-02-13T16:26:00.007+00:002008-02-13T17:18:54.774+00:00

Cyndi Lauper’s ‘time after time’ plays through the Ipod, as I sit on the train dreamily staring out the window reflecting on life and watching London pass by. If I perm my hair, put on gold bangles and aluminous fingerless gloves, to onlookers I could be confused with a star of any soft focussed, melancholy, eighties pop video. It is unusual for me to dwell on the past and even more unusual to

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-18590339686004203752008-02-05T18:30:00.000+00:002008-02-06T12:47:20.015+00:00

When asked by my friends to meet them in the Natural History Museum, I jumped at the chance. I love spending time with them and my two year old Goddaughter. I can bear navigating my way around the hundreds of tourists and squealing children to see the look of excitement on her face in the dinosaur exhibitions. When I say I have a Goddaughter, do not worry, I provide absolutely no religious

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-2701676772992371372008-01-28T19:48:00.000+00:002008-01-30T09:57:09.713+00:00

Lady ‘A’ finds herself in what she thought a sought after situation. Two years single and ready for a relationship, she wakes one day and finds she has two women in her life. These two women are polar opposites in attitude, looks and lifestyle, but she feels a strong connection to them both. To stay true to female physics, of course within days the situation was getting complicated. So, before

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-14899119063147631622008-01-20T21:57:00.000+00:002008-01-30T14:53:45.576+00:00

At the start of the week, work colleagues, friends and family looked on in amazement as a crazy woman manically flitted from one distraction to the next. My mood fluctuated and ranged from hysterical laughter to sobbing with temporary periods of calm. To compensate for my polar behaviour I acted impulsively and brought a laptop I can not afford nor have the technical expertise and patience to

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-80431220344865251982008-01-15T22:32:00.000+00:002008-01-15T22:36:53.648+00:00

This week is my week. Within the next few days something is going to happen that will change my life. I can feel electricity flowing through my veins and my eyes have finally been opened to the wonders of the world. I can barely sleep, concentrate and working is pointless. I am too excited for words. Colleagues stare on in astonishment as I hyperactively flit around the office desperately

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-66694389116764384502008-01-10T22:33:00.000+00:002008-01-10T22:38:21.813+00:00

Once a week I take an hour long journey across London. The underground in rush hour is always a pleasure and the chance of getting a seat is slim, but us commuters know how to travel. Rain or shine, a bottle of water, ipod and the London Lite is crucial to block out the noise and the stupid sods who leave it until last minute to irritatingly dash through a wall of people squealing ‘Getting off,

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-20122569358227443652008-01-08T21:15:00.000+00:002008-01-08T22:54:32.801+00:00

There is something reassuring about even numbers! Three’s a crowd, one can be lonely and you should never watch Party of Five – it is too depressing for words! I have a friend, who has to have the television or stereo volume on an even number; I am not obsessively compulsive like her but I am excited about 2008 because 2007 can only be described as odd! There is no point dwelling on the past and

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-37448153649047101562007-12-31T12:33:00.000+00:002008-01-07T15:20:30.319+00:00

On the first day of Christmas I arrive at my parent’s home three days earlier than usual in anticipation of spending some quality time with my nephew before he goes to the in-laws. I arrive to an empty house because unbeknown to me they have changed their plans and now arriving later in the week. This extends my family celebrations from five days to nine if I want to see my nephew and sister! Oh

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-74145240670798462862007-12-24T15:09:00.000+00:002008-01-09T16:24:34.973+00:00

Twas the Friday before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; this includes me! I have woken on my own accord, fully clothed, facedown and laying diagonally on top of the duvet. In the time it takes me to lift my head off the pillow I realise one; I am very late for my last day at work and two; my mouth disturbingly tastes like a stale ashtray doused

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-48079706518241197822007-12-18T21:44:00.000+00:002007-12-19T23:39:17.100+00:00

Following my Government Health Warning regarding a recent internet stalking incident, I needed to work out why days later I still felt suffocated by negative and opposing emotions all directed at my ex? Ranging from love to hate with sporadic ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only’. During a conversation with a therapist and some internet research, I had an ‘Arh Ha’ moment of clarity which I hope you can not

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-17848468941288928382007-12-10T19:59:00.000+00:002008-01-05T21:37:52.206+00:00

Does anyone remember in the early eighties, around the time of the Falklands war, there was a government pamphlet distributed on what to do in the event of a nuclear attack? I had it all figured out. In the case of an emergency I knew if I turned the dining room table over, painted the windows white and had a store of tinned food I may survive. My parents had to keep a keen eye on me over the

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-53677846770246503862007-12-03T09:51:00.000+00:002007-12-10T11:09:29.051+00:00

My place of work is currently undergoing another restructure, an inoffensive word used to disguise the actual meaning – redundancies. Five year plans are put in place to claw back loses. Long service staffs humiliatingly reapply for their jobs, the newcomers worry about the 25 year mortgage and the contractors start clearing out their desks. The threat of streamlining results in extreme paranoia

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-77425139719952174332007-11-25T19:30:00.000+00:002007-11-25T22:42:31.398+00:00

I spent the weekend in my Venice, no nothing romantic or extravagant, we know I mean Birmingham. I and one of my oldest friends Marina booked a hotel room, lined our stomachs then headed out to our old haunts on Hurst Street. This is the Birmingham gay scene, a once secluded and almost seedy night spot without the Soho tourists and the Canal Street ‘Queer as Folk’ extras. It was a perfect weekend

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-2523342732016760332007-11-19T21:51:00.000+00:002007-11-30T21:35:13.091+00:00

A donkey wakes up and decides to take some me time and walk to look at the mountain view. On her way out, her life donkey partner asks “Would you mind taking these carrots to my Cousin Angela who lives mid-mountain?” “Yes, of course” says Donkey and off she meanders.A short time later she bumps into her old stable-mate, Sheep, grazing on the winding path. “Hey Donkey will you take this bag of

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-77019558000552577882007-11-12T17:33:00.001+00:002007-11-13T10:00:07.691+00:00

Coming out is incredibly hard. To anyone that argues differently, I would have to ask ‘Have you just forgotten?’ Initially it can be frightening to say ‘I am gay’ with the uncertainty of others' reactions. Will I be rejected, bullied, persecuted, an embarrassment to my family?I came out partly through necessity. My parents were coming to stay in the one bedroom flat I shared with my partner and

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-85172543812037038892007-11-06T14:30:00.000+00:002007-11-07T15:24:16.087+00:00

It’s a beautiful autumn day. A small group of us are standing in a woodland area surrounded by the smells, sounds and stillness that comes with nature. The sun is trying to break through the clouds and just not quite making it, so the group huddles together keeping the cold out. Spindly trees stand tall and disappear into the sky above. At the base of these trees, amongst the wild flowers, small

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759696205617821181.post-60712578738842241982007-11-03T12:59:00.000+00:002007-11-04T17:34:37.238+00:00

Between regenerating my brain cells following a rather excessive weekend, unintentionally antagonising a couple of lesbians and now staying at my parents meaning privacy is impossible; there had been no time to write this week. To summarise last Saturday a group met at lunchtime to celebrate a friends birthday. Following the accidental eating of a four cheese and magic mushroom pizza we watched

Female therapyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06058913156724677486noreply@blogger.com2