I am always aware when clients first come to therapy that they bring with them the ways they have learnt to survive in the world, as a result of their upbringing and life experiences. So often, I see clients who are living with the consequences of having lost the ability to trust themselves and their reality. Clients who have been gaslit, as children, by their caregivers, and who, in order to be loved and cared for, had to disregard their own perceptions, ideas and experiences about themselves and accept their caregiver’s version. Gone are their own needs, hopes and dreams, as they have learnt to believe that they are deeply flawed and not entitled, even to their own minds. Their real self starts to hide away as they become on guard, always looking for the right thing to do or say, accepting someone else’s explanation of their reality. “Without a clear connection to our instincts and feelings, we cannot feel our connection and sense of belonging to this earth, to a family, or anything else.” (Levine, 1997:266).

As children we are totally dependent on our primary caregivers for survival. We are constantly looking into their faces for a sense of the world and who we are. All the power is bestowed on our caregivers, and from there we interpret our experiences and events. Through our early years we accept whatever is happening in our household to be normal, and learn to mould ourselves into the type of child that our parents want us to be, in search of their love. As a child whose brain and emotions are still developing, we don’t have the ability to see our parents behaviour as abusive. By the time we do, it is often too late as the patterns of behaviour and coping skills are deeply ingrained.

Gaslighting is a term used to describe a form of psychological abuse which is relatively common in dysfunctional families. It is, perhaps, the most appalling form of child abuse, as it can make a child feel as if they are crazy. When a person is gaslighting they use mind games often telling their victim that what they have seen, experienced or felt is not the truth. It is usually accompanied by aggression, either passive or overt and so fear becomes a regular companion. A lifetime of damage often occurs as children who have been gaslit, grow into adulthood with no real sense of who they are. They have no internal sense of self, their minds and sometimes their bodies controlled by someone else. They hold the secret of their lost self and often have a deep shame of their existence, with no place where they feel safe or people they can trust.

As a result of being manipulated into believing things that weren’t true, along with having to adapt to accept someone else’s narrative, they start to disconnect from their real self as they learn that the price in holding on to themselves is too great. They start to feel as if they are losing their mind, become submissive, and with no one to protect or support them, the journey into the dark pit of shame and loneliness begins.The vibrant, alive and trusting child they are born as, hides away believing itself to be deeply flawed. The very essence of who they are, shattered by those who are meant to embrace and inspire them to be all that they can be. They feel themselves slipping towards a world that no one else knows in order to keep safe, and what is left is a facade. The world carries on and no one notices that part of them has faded away. They become compliant or rebellious in order to hide their lost self, and become masters at fooling others, as well as themselves, into believing that they are okay. Although now protected from abuse they now struggle to survive emotionally, as in the darkest part of their being, it feels as if they are watching life from a distance and no one can reach them.

Taking the first step and coming to therapy requires enormous courage. Clients are facing their biggest fears. That their story won’t be believed. That the world is unsafe, and that no one is trustworthy. At their nethermost level they fear that they are forever lost. Their history has been one of betrayal, anguish and pain, with the roots of their problems running deep, and all the way back to childhood. Their relationship with their therapist is of paramount importance as, it is with this, that they hope to re acquaint with the part of themselves that retreated in order to survive. 

Clients talk of their real self living behind doors, in dark prisons or cages. Mostly physically dirty, dressed in rags and no longer verbal as they have withdrawn more and more into themselves. The therapist requires patience and a deep sense of compassion as the hidden self emerges to tell her story. Often feral she is on high alert, watching for anything that will prove to her that she is unsafe. My aim throughout is to be consistent, attentive, curious, congruent and respect my clients need to look for safety.

This work takes time as the journey is one of transformation. Moving from a traumatic state to a peaceful, integrated state requires repeated practise. As a result, I am often deeply moved as I have the privilege of observing my client recognise the indelible imprint of time gone by. By starting to re-connect with the suppressed feelings of fear, anger, shame and pain in the presence of another, and have them validated allows my client to cherish her hard won moments of intimacy. By slowly changing long entrenched patterns of behaviour she is able to emerge back into her life fully. She starts to experience life with a developing sense of trust and with the courage to shine brighter and brighter. “To resolve trauma we must learn to move fluidly between instinct, emotion and rational thought. When these three sources are in harmony, communicating sensation, feeling and cognition, our organisms operate as they were designed to.” (Levine, 1997:265).

I believe her every word.  

Levine, P. (1997). Waking The Tiger. California. North Atlantic Books.

Hopelessness is an emotion which is characterised by a lack of optimism, passion and hope. It makes us wonder if life is worth living. I understand that there are times when my role, as their therapist, is to hold my clients losses, hurt, fears and despair, shouldering the burden of them for a while, as they work through whatever has left them feeling hopeless. At the core of my work is the belief in the possibility of therapeutic change, which is vital when working with hopelessness. I see myself as a guiding light, as my clients find their way back to the hope that there is a life worth living after all.

To move forwards after our lives have been shattered, and we find ourselves suspended in mid air with no landing in sight, more often than not, demands that we let go of who we thought we were and how we had thought we were going to live our lives. As with all things, hopelessness can come in all shapes and sizes. Our lives can be sucked into the vortex that descends into hopelessness in a single moment. The unexpected death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, home, country or safety. Or it can be a slow descent into agony as we lose sight of what has in the past made our lives worth living.

Although at the time, hopelessness might feel as if it consumes every cell of our bodies, it is useful to introduce the idea that there is also a part that holds hope. Although hard for clients to remember at the time, the powerful human experiences of hope and hopelessness live side by side. As a therapist I marvel at the human beings ability to switch between the two as I often witness fleeting moments of hope within hopelessness. I am mindful of the how the room can feel devoid of air when someone feels a sense of deep hopelessness, as they battle with no expectation of future improvement. In those moments I remind myself to breathe as, like quick sand, it is easy to follow hopelessness.

One of the things that drew me to training as a Gestalt therapist was the use of creative and experiential techniques as a means to enhance awareness. Gestalt therapy recognises that a change results from what is rather than forcing a person to change. The empty chair technique is a quintessential gestalt therapy exercise. It is important to understand and validate that to be human is to have moments where we get in touch with the ‘hopeless’ part of ourselves. By focussing on the here and now we can explore the feelings of hopelessness, and in addition, allow clients to reconnect with parts of themselves they may deny, ignore or forget exist in moments of distress, in this instance hope.

It would feel remiss to not acknowledge that there are millions of people living in extreme suffering. Death, war, poverty and fear are just some of the things that many face daily and as a result those lives do feel helpless and hopeless. There are then others who have little or no control in their lives as relationships end suddenly, a diagnosis changes the course of a life, an accident, job loss, financial hardship all take their toll. It is with this in mind that I reflect on Viktor Frankl’s ‘A Man’s Search For Meaning’ and his belief that one can remain positive despite tragic circumstances: “Man can preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress. We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man, but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” (Frankl, 1985, p.86)

The idea that we each have the ability to decide how we should conduct ourselves, no matter what we are living through is vital to remember as we go through dark times. It is easy to forget when we feel that life has happened to us. At the heart of therapy is the ability to engender hope and by staying present in the face of hopelessness, my clients can choose the stance they take towards their suffering. For each of us, when faced with loss of hope, we can take comfort from Frankl who spoke, often, about the concept of the defiant human spirit. How, for as long as there is life, there is hope, and how we have the chance to transform the worst of experiences into honourable achievements.

Frankl, V. (1985). Man’s search for meaning: Revised and updated. New York: Washington Square.

For many, when they think of psychotherapy they think of talking, but sometimes, words seem woefully inadequate. The pain, the shame, the experience, too extreme for it to be simplified or minimised by words.Not speaking and speaking are both human ways of being in the world, but speaking seems to be the more expected. If we take the time to notice, there are many conversations that take place in silence. They are often expressing feelings that are stored deep in the place that words cannot capture. Sadly, for most, silence is uncomfortable and so the silent space is hurriedly filled with words or distractions, and as a result those moments pass unacknowledged. I have come to understand the differing voices of silence as I sit with my clients, and see that it is not always words that draws one person to another, but more the inner bond of our full presence. The words of Elbert Hubbard hovering, as a reminder, when I can find myself wanting to fill the space, as silence howls with all its might; “He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.”

There are many different levels and reasons for silence. John O’Donohue in an excerpt from Eternal Echoes writes; “There are no words for the deepest things. Words become feeble when mystery visits and prayer moves into silence. In post-modern culture the ceaseless din of chatter has killed our acquaintance with silence. Consequently, we are stressed and anxious. Silence is a fascinating presence. Silence is shy; it is patient and never draws attention to itself. Without the presence of silence, no word could ever be said or heard. Our thoughts constantly call up new words. We become so taken with words the we barely notice the silence, but the silence is always there. The best words are born in the fecund silent that minds the mystery.”

I trained originally as a Gestalt therapist, and phenomenological tracking was a part of my training, which was a relief for me as my childhood had taught me to be hyper vigilant, a useful tool for my work as a therapist. I had learnt to listen with my eyes as well as my ears, my senses at all times fully alive and totally present to any given moment. The phenomenological approach encourages us to stay as close to our clients experience as possible by staying in the here and now, and not interpreting behaviour. Research shows that words represent only 7% of how we communicate and unless we see silence as an expression, a conversation all in itself, we will miss all the creative ways that people speak non-verbally. Facial expressions, the tear that is barely visible, the smile that doesn’t match the story each passing in a moment and easily missed. The flicker of an eye, the sharp intake of breath, the subtle stroke of a hand on hand can often unwittingly reveal the motive or even the content of our clients silence, which can be useful to explore.

Some of the most powerful moments I have experienced personally, in my own therapy, and with my clients have been when the silence of what is not being said, but thought, and felt in the moment, permeates the room. I have sat for entire sessions week on week, with a client whose silence protected them from the shame and trauma they had encountered in childhood. It was being able to tolerate, and be totally present to that experience, that eventually allowed my client to say their first word. A moment when, having sacrificed my own desire to know, understand and fix, allowed for their healing journey to continue, as it had begun the months before, but in silence. In each session my deepest desire for my client was that they felt my full, unconditional presence, and in turn, there being no need to say or do anything, but just feel my total commitment to their journey, no matter how long it took.

I have had to learn to manage the need to just say something as I have watched my client crumble, relaying the story of their child having stabbed themselves numerous times. The fireman who spoke of picking up the children’s shoes after the Grenfell Tower fire. The young man who spoke of being a survivor of incest and his wish to die. As a therapist the stories are endless and the moments of pain deep and breathtaking. As I hold space for all the despair that life throws at each of us, I am aware that, there are moments in therapy, where we long to be held and met with compassionate curiosity as we reveal our hidden selves. For some, the deepest expression of their feelings is in the silence as words cannot always be trusted, nor have they been heard or welcomed. It is in the presence of silence, short or long in length, that they can start to emerge from the noise of their past and their truth can appear and confirm the uniqueness of their journey in this life.To be met by someone who can tolerate the uncertainty that silence can bring to those everyday life moments, allows a healing to begin.

It takes some time to move through the belief that we are not doing our job if no one is talking. The Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu once said, “Silence is a source of great strength” and I believe that to be true for both clients and myself as a therapist. I witness silence as being the vehicle that takes my clients to the innermost centre of their being. From that far off place, they engage with their thoughts, and even the words they may or may not choose to use. The silence may be fleeting or long, but in those moments, I know I need to get myself out of my own way, and be courageous enough to trust that I need not do anything. In that place of meeting, I am more open to learning about my client whether words are being spoken or not. More importantly, in those silent moments as my client enters their interior life, they can experience what happens for them when they reflect, with their full attention, on a particular topic or memory and feel affirmed, seen and safe as they share their inner world with me knowing that I will notice, whether there are words or not. Emerging from the silence, there are times I witness hearts start to unfurl and reach outwards into the world again after, what can feel like years, of suspended pain, and my heart sings, silently. I say silence can be more eloquent than words.

Whether working in individual, couples or group therapy I see no two persons as the same. Research shows that neither the minds nor the bodies of two people work in exactly the same way and that we all learn differently. Over the years, I have learnt to be flexible enough to form a different relationship with each of my clients, no matter what they bring. Since no two brains function identically, we as therapists are called to be curious about the sensory strengths of our clients and in doing that, explore being creative. Creative experiences within the therapeutic relationship can enable authentic self expression for those clients who show creative qualities and help form a link between our deep internal world and the revelations of our outer experience.

The healing effect of words has long been recognized and creativity, within my practice, allows for words to be expressed in many different forms. I have had a lifelong love of poetry, and its powerful, healing qualities have been well documented. As a child, I used to write poetry as a way of expressing emotions that otherwise felt too hard to verbally acknowledge or felt too threatening to do in a direct way. With no one to talk to, I could visit my poems and connect with a part of my being that no one saw and that, in itself, felt like a lifeline as I struggled to hold on to myself.

As I have grown and changed as a therapist, poetry has been a constant companion for me. As both reading and writing poetry engage our senses along with our emotions, doors to our inner worlds can be opened, thus allowing for the exploration of a landscape that has previously been hidden. In therapy, we can read a poem and it can feel as if it is speaking directly to, or, about us. As a result, it can stop us feeling alone with our secrets, and any shame lifts, as we connect to another human through their creative expression, that magically says what we have longed to share. Aberjhani in his book – Splendid Literarium: A Treasury of Stories, Aphorisms, Poems and Essays, states :“Poetry empowers the simplest of lives to confront the most extreme sorrows with courage, and motivates the mightiest of offices to humbly heed lessons in compassion.”

Clients of mine have found that, with the freedom of writing poetry, memories have been unlocked and reading them to me has been incredibly powerful. They use their writing as a way of restoring the lost freshness of their words and giving their stories, both past and present, a new form. It gives me a touchstone from which to discuss and relate to their memories in a language that has come from a place deep within them. I have a catalogue of poems, each preciously stored away, with some yet to be used.They are lying in wait for, the moment where their poignancy will be entirely relevant, and carry my client to distant places on the wings of words so generously written and shared by others. In the meantime I gift you this one.

The Lightest Touch

Good poetry begins with
the lightest touch,
a breeze arriving from nowhere,
a whispered healing arrival,
a word in your ear,
a settling into things,
then, like a hand in the dark,
it arrests the whole body,
steeling you for revelation.
In the silence that follows
a great line,
you can feel Lazarus,
deep inside
even the laziest, most deathly afraid
part of you,
lift up his hands and walk toward the light.

David Whyte

Historians will be writing about this strange period of time for the rest of the 21st century. Many of us will emerge changed as this pandemic proves to be much more than a health crisis, more, it is a human, economic and social crisis. Our lives have shrunk beyond recognition as we have been asked to follow social distancing guidelines and self isolate to curb the spread of the coronavirus, leaving home only for essential reasons. As the media and politicians bombarded us with ‘Stay home, protect the NHS, save lives’, few of us seemed question what was being asked of us. The shocking numbers of people becoming infected with the virus, along with those dying, forced us inside, terrified that one of our loved ones, or indeed ourselves, would be amongst them. For most, home became a safe refuge with the outside becoming the place of risk. 

One of the feelings millions of us are experiencing as a result is loneliness. Although sticking to the advice is essential in the current crisis, staying at home with limited human contact is proving to have a significant impact on our mental wellbeing and in particular, feelings of loneliness. ONS statistics show that loneliness in the UK is a growing epidemic with 2.4 million adults in the UK feeling lonely. It is not only older people who are affected. People of all ages experience loneliness and research shows that loneliness actually peaks in adolescence with young adults experiencing loneliness just as severely as older populations. In 2019 ONS statistics showed that in Britain there are 8.2 million people who live alone and 2.9 million lone parent families. Today, single person households make up almost a third of the population. Loneliness comes in many forms, with loneliness being found throughout society, including among people in marriages along with other strong relationships.We know that being socially isolated leads to loneliness, but so does being in relationships that are not emotionally rewarding.

For many, admitting to loneliness conjures up all sorts of shameful images that people don’t want to be associated with and yet it is a human state. We all have periods of time of loneliness, that deep feeling of loss, and this pandemic, has perhaps, asked us all to face our loneliness in ways that are deeply uncomfortable. The dictionary definition of loneliness; ‘sadness because one has no friends or company,’ does nothing to normalise the ordinary human reaction to feel lonely sometimes and feeds a toxic and damaging shame around it. As humans we are born into families, communities and society. From our very first moments, we seek connection and as a result, we experience isolation as a physical state of emergency.

Self isolation stops us from engaging with the normalcy of day to day life. Human connection is vital to our sense of well being and many of the things that we have so taken for granted that have given us a sense of connection are no longer possible. For those living alone, going to the shops,  eating out and going to the gym, meeting friends, going to work are all ways we can feel that we are part of something. That we, our existence, matters. Someone to touch us in a caring, non sexual way, someone who is physically present to comfort us at the end of a challenging day are all ways we receive comfort and an escape from haunting loneliness. For those living with friends and/or family there is the shame that comes with feeling lonely despite being physically present with those that love us.

The poet Jalaluddin Rumi wrote a wonderful poem about acceptance of all our feelings; ‘The Guest House’. It is a poignant reminder not to resist the thoughts and emotions that naturally pass through us every day, but to meet them with respect, curiosity and courage.

 “This being human is a guest house.

 Every morning a new arrival. 

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

 some momentary awareness comes 

as an unexpected visitor. 

Welcome and attend them all! 

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house

 empty of all furniture,

 still, treat each honourably. 

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

 The dark thought, the shame, the malice, 

meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. 

Be grateful for whoever comes, 

because each has been sent

 as a guide from beyond.”

If we can see loneliness as one of the familiar guests that shows up from time to time. If we can have it keep us company for a while before it eventually goes on its way, we will, with no doubt,  have much to learn from it, no matter how unwelcome it might feel. The blessing we give ourselves and others by doing this is that we can be on hand with kindness and compassion to others who are courageous enough to admit to being lonely. And in time, the word lonely will no longer be shameful, but a word associated with the depth of relationships we are able to have as a result of the revelation of the vulnerabilities of being human.

I believe that a therapist needs to be willing to do their own work when necessary and it was with this in mind that I recently decided to find myself a therapist. Over the past few months I have been dealing with clients as well as family and friends who have been deeply impacted by this unprecedented situation and decided that I too needed to take some time to look at how this period of time has challenged me personally. 

As a therapist myself, it was an interesting reminder how much courage it takes to reach out to a total stranger as psychotherapy is an intensely private matter. It doesn’t work for everyone; one has to be in the right place in one’s mind and be in a position to give the process due time and care. The personal style of therapists is often as important as their techniques and theories. I remember in my training, self disclosure was discouraged because it supposedly negated a potential source of information. But therapists self disclose the moment a client meets them whether on screen or in the flesh. The way the therapist speaks, dresses, whether they wear make up, the room they sit in, the absence or not of a wedding ring, these things all play a part in the choosing of your therapist. Finding the right therapist is like finding a needle in a haystack. Each of us is different and looking for that special soul that will allow us to heal, and grow can, at times, feel disappointing. We know when we find the person right for us.

On meeting my therapist for the first time, well into the session, he disclosed something of himself that was, a deciding moment for me. In his disclosure he reminded me that there is no essential difference between therapists and clients. We know when someone sees us and that feeling of coming home. The courage he showed by being authentic and dropping his mask stirred something deep within, beyond any well honed protective layers, which was a feeling of relief. I knew in that instance that I had found the Sherpa I wanted to guide me back to myself. This was the one with whom I was willing to explore throwing off my customary and self betraying masks and let all my feelings take their natural shape. 

I can’t remember any incidents when I have consciously or intentionally lied to a client as, for me, it corrupts the entire therapeutic process, which is devoted to uncovering the truth no matter what. Suddenly as a client myself, there emerged a difference. We all do it, we tell half truths, bend reality to suit our purposes, lie outright, withhold the truth, manipulate, want to be seen and at the same do everything we can to hide. Reminded of a quote by Andre Malraux, ‘man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides’, I wonder what it will take for me to allow all that is hidden to emerge.

Many years ago I remember coming cross the Satir Model of change designed by Virginia Satir (1916-1988), a technique used as a transformational tool to explore the self. The metaphor of an iceberg to represent human experiencing; the small tip represents visible behaviours, which is often what we focus on as we move through life. As I start the next stage of my therapeutic journey, I am starting to acknowledge the price of not taking the time to look beneath that piece floating above the water. In so many ways it looks effortless, but that so often leaves me feeling unseen and invisible.

Just as an iceberg only shows an eighth of itself above the water so do most of us present to the world the behaviours that we feel will be acceptable, make us loveable and as a result offer some sense of belonging. Under the water are often our coping strategies, feelings, feelings about feelings, perceptions, expectations, yearnings and self. By being willing to go beneath the surface and be as honest a client as I am a therapist I sit with the consequences of that honesty and see, from a client perspective, just how rare, and precious the intimacy that is starting to be kindled can be. In addition and perhaps more importantly with a deep relief, I am beginning to reconnect with that place that Virginia Satir often spoke about; “deep inside yourself where you keep the treasure that is called by your name.” I am excited at the thought that my clients may find the same when working with me.

There are things that happened, or didn’t, in childhood that seriously impacted the way some of us think about ourselves and the way we have lived our lives. We often, unconsciously, live out the core beliefs, we have come to know so well, based on our childhood experiences. For most of us, there are defining moments such as becoming a parent, the loss of a parent and therapy that make us stop and recognise that we are adults with some capacity to shape our own lives and the responsibility to do so, rather than blaming our parents and childhood for our life choices. While many people find that this is one of the hardest tasks to accomplish, some are lucky enough to discover that it is freeing in ways that they hadn’t imagined.

For many, our lives may not have been of our choosing as children and it is helpful to have your feelings and perceptions validated as a step towards healing from a difficult childhood. Learning how to shift from self blame to rightful anger at our parents can be a useful second step, but that is not the end of the process. A life changing experience for me was an exercise which challenged me to arrive at a fuller understanding of my parents and their histories that, in turn, allowed me to have a more tolerant and compassionate view of my upbringing. This didn’t detract from my feelings of hurt and betrayal or condone anything that happened, but what it did was to remind me that in the world of family, traumas often beget traumas. By looking at what is left when we work through the feelings we carry around about our childhoods we can make changes that will change our lives with ourselves and others for the better. 

I remember reading this poem (the word father can be replaced with mother) and stopping to consider the final question; 

How do we forgive our fathers? Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us often? Or forever, when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage, or making us nervous because there never seemed any rage there at all?

Do we forgive our fathers for marrying or not marrying our mothers, or for divorcing or not divorcing our mothers?

And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness? Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning, or shutting doors?

For speaking through walls, or never speaking, or never being silent?

Do we forgive our fathers in our age, or theirs?

Or in their deaths, saying it to them, or not saying it?

If we forgive our fathers what is left?

Perhaps it is as a result of age, or being a parent and now grandparent myself that I am able to more accept the concept of the ‘good enough parent’ which derived from the work of D. W. Winnicott.  Through Winnicott’s eyes, perfect parenting wasn’t merely unattainable, it wasn’t desirable. His thought was that a good enough parent still meets the needs of their children, but, and it is a big but, by the parents being less than perfect, the child learns to adapt and develop the skills needed to manage their disappointments. Of course, society has to accept that some parents are ‘not good enough’ by recognising the problem of child abuse and neglect thus setting up structures to deal with it, and where appropriate providing alternative parenting. But, for us to demand perfection of ourselves as parents and our own parents, is both unhelpful and unrealistic and undermines the efforts of the vast majority of parents who are in all practical respects ‘good enough.’ As parents we need to let go of perfectionism as it is not within the grasp of ordinary human beings.

So, if I go back to the final question in the poem above. What I believe is that by developing compassion for our parents it makes us more compassionate towards ourselves as people and parents. Getting to a forgiving place can be a long and complicated journey, the deeper the wound, the more difficult the process. But the act of forgiveness gives us permission to let go and release the pain and anger and when we get there, the forgiveness we achieve will be a forgiveness worth having. 

The world feels very strange right now, it is changing fast and we have no idea how it will play out. If we were to cast our minds back to the beginning of the year, none of us would have believed that, within a few weeks, our lives would be changed by a strand of proteins, that has ripped open the fabric of normality, causing the biggest global crisis since the Second World War. 

We are allowed out of our homes to stock up on essentials and have one form of exercise outdoors a day. Thousands of families have been thrust into home schooling. Operations have been cancelled. Bars, cafes, shops, restaurants, clubs all closed. Public gathering cancelled, jobs lost, people being furloughed and couples suddenly living in each others pockets. The unprecedented social distancing measures have changed our lives beyond recognition. Financial ruin and job insecurity weaving threads of fear and uncertainty throughout our world. The knowledge that any one of us could fall ill at any time, or could be already carrying the virus and not know, leaving only nine per cent of Britons wanting lockdown to end. 

This crisis will shape history and each of us is becoming aware of what we most treasure and what we most fear. My own life has shrunk beyond recognition. There are many things I miss and some days I feel deeply challenged on a personal level. There are days when I feel just as unsure as my clients, not only of the very real dangers of COVID-19 in the here and now, but how our lives will be in the aftermath. I face a mixture of emotions in constantly shifting measures and allow them to move through me knowing that moments of losing courage belong to a brave life. 

Only in hindsight will the contours of the new world we are entering become clear, but in the meantime we need to find ways of adapting to a new way. We are all having to shift into new routines that feel uncomfortable and out of the norm. Many of my clients talk about being forced to look at a new way of living their lives with the changes seeming small to some, but traumatic and immensely challenging to others.

It is not all doom and gloom though as, through the hole that has opened up, we glimpse possibilities of other worlds. Some people are already experiencing unexpected blessings. Our pace of life has slowed down.The skies are bluer with cleaner air.  Our daily exercise has given us an appreciation of natural surroundings previously taken for granted. Some parents are enjoying more time with their children. There are newly discovered neighbours and a sense of community, as we gather to show our deeply felt gratitude at the bravery of those working on the front line by clapping, drumming and cheering. We are starting to remember what is important and make space for all the things that we never seemed to have had the time to do. Some couples are rediscovering positive attributes in each other as they are pulling together and starting to see themselves once more as the team they so easily fell into in their early years.Virtual conversations, dinners and parties offering companionship especially to those living alone.

Elizabeth Gilbert author of Eat, Pray Love wrote something I like to hold on to when I feel levels of anxiety and loneliness start biting at my core;  “the child is taught from earliest consciousness that she has these four brothers with her in the world wherever she goes, and that they will always look after her. The brothers inhabit the four virtues a person needs in order to be safe and happy in life: intelligence, friendship, strength and poetry. The brothers can be called upon in any critical situation for rescue and assistance. When you die, your four spirit brothers collect your soul and bring you to heaven.” We are no strangers to suffering and while we are all in different and ever changing mental spaces, it is important to remember as we move through this experience that there are opportunities for us to learn and grow. My hope for all of us is that, when this is over, we realise that this darkness had purpose; That we will all prefer the world we find ourselves in to the one we left behind, but above all we remember that we were not alone.

From the time we are on the womb through our elderly years, touch plays a primary role in our development and physical and mental well-being. For those abiding by the current social distancing guidelines and living alone, hugs, a pat on the back, a caress of the arm, these everyday, incidental gestures, that keep us connected to other people, are non existent.

There is no doubt that social distancing is essential right now to slow the spread of COVD-19, but by being forced to stay in our homes, many people are finding themselves completely isolated.

With a quarter of the worlds population now living under some form of lockdown, we have been separated from our friends, colleagues and family. Studies have found that missing out on regular human touch can have some serious and long lasting effects as it plays a major role in our health and happiness.

Humans are wired to be touched. Touch decreases cortisol, the stress hormone. It increases serotonin, which is the body’s natural anti depressant, helping to regulate mood, appetite and digestion. Endorphins which are the neurotransmitters produced to relieve pain and improve mood. Oxytocin which  is known as the “love hormone” increases our feelings of bonding and belonging, all super valuable in a time of pandemic. Michelangelo was right when he said; ‘to touch can be to give life.’

Touch is our first language and one of our core needs. Dr Gary Chapman author of ‘The Five Love Languages’ spent time with couples and came up with the five languages of love that most people “receive” or “recognise”. Physical touch was one of the five and although he was thinking of romantic couples when he defined the love languages, they can be applied to any interpersonal relationship. Physical touch is a nonverbal love language people use to let others know they are cherished. We have developed context languages, cultures and emotional expression through physical contact. For those with the “physical touch” love language as an integral part of feeling rapport, care and connection with their friends, family, colleagues, no physical touch at all, means they are not receiving the psychological benefits. 

Social isolation can pose a challenge for those who speak the love language of physical touch. Although there is no exact substitution for human touch there are some alternatives that might be worth considering that offer similar health benefits. Anything that moves your skin will stimulate pressure receptors. Self massage gives the same kind of stimulation as touch from someone else. Yoga, walking, jogging, riding a bike, hugging yourself, dancing and singing are all forms of self touch. The smell of vanilla and lavender have been linked with the production of endorphins. Studies have shown that dark chocolate and spicy foods can lead the brain to release endorphins. Although we are facing much uncertainty laughter is one of the easiest ways to induce endorphin release. 

Keepsakes and sentimental objects can help us feel the presence of loved ones. Stuffed animals, photographs, treasured gifts are all reminders that you are cared about. If you have a dog or cat spending time stroking them can act as an emotional substitute for human interaction for the time being. 

Modern technology makes it easy to maintain face to face communication and connection and can be a highly effective substitute for physical contact. Video conferencing is a great way to see and be seen. There are now apps like Duo, and Houseparty, which allows groups of friends to join a single video chat and play games together.

Nothing will ever replace human touch, the human warmth we all need. My sense is when social isolation is lifted every point of physical contact between us will feel important with a rush of relief. Until that time we need to seek alternatives.