My Story

Background

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Before I trained as a psychotherapist I worked for many years as a community pharmacist (I know … quite a shift but more about that later)! Whilst working as a pharmacist I completed a Master’s in Creative Writing. I’d always loved stories and writing. One of my earliest memories is of waiting for my father in the local library’s reception, poring over The Tales of Beatrix Potter, transfixed by the beautiful colour plates veiled with sheets of tracing paper.

For me, stories were to become a retreat, an education, and a sign that I wasn’t alone in the world. They seemed to speak to me personally and gave me many gifts, including an enduring interest in the human condition. I think it was this, among other things, that drew me to psychotherapy.

The ‘among other things’ was my own mental health story. I was a solitary, anxious child, and my mother died when I was a teenager. I had my struggles. Friendships being one of them, I can still remember having this feeling, even as a child, that somehow other kids had a piece of knowledge or information I didn’t, that allowed them to interact with others so easily. That there must be a reason why I found it so hard to get it right. Having also decided at a young age that things would be better when I grew up because I would find someone to love and take care of me like my dad had loved and cared for my mother, I fared better with romantic relationships (funny how these things work). I married but remained otherwise isolated. After the birth of my first child, I suffered with post-natal depression and what I now understand was (undiagnosed) peri-natal OCD. Part of the reason it was undiagnosed was the shame I experienced, which made me keep it hidden. If my book could save one mother from the horror of my experience, without any exaggeration, it would have been worth writing!

Somehow, with my husband’s help we got back on an even keel. Life improved, it settled and finally I/we found the courage to have a second child. This time, other than the struggles that all new mums experience, there was no descent into depression and despair. It was a huge relief. Life was good, we were happy.

Then in 2005 things changed. This was the year our youngest son, then 8, began to struggle with his mental health. He began to struggle with what we would now call emotionally-based school-avoidance. We didn’t understand why, we didn’t know what to do and neither, so it seemed, did anyone else. Judgement was commonplace and difficult to bear, a kind of fearful shunning was worse. People seemed to be concerned that the condition might be contagious somehow. One of my most painful memories was trying to arrange a play-date for my son only to be repeatedly turned down by the mothers’ of his friends. They didn’t want to know him, or me, anymore. It broke my heart. People weren’t bad, they simply didn’t understand.

It's a long story but suffice to say, this lived experience had a profound effect on all of us. For me, the need to make sense, set my training in motion. Everything I now do, from how I practice as a psychotherapist, to the setting-up and day-to-day running of a mental health charity … and, of course, the writing of this book is driven by it. In Shadow Monsters and Courageous Hearts, I hope people will find the acceptance, understanding and compassion, both for themselves and others, we all need.