The Hormone-Mental Health Connection: How Hormones Influence Our Mood and Mind

When people hear the words midlife crisis, they often picture someone buying a bright red sports car, getting a questionable tattoo or suddenly deciding they're going to become a DJ. For most of us, it's nowhere near that dramatic. It's more likely to be standing in Tesco wondering, "Is this really my life now?" Or finding yourself scrolling through estate agents' websites looking at cottages in the middle of nowhere, despite having absolutely no intention of moving. Or wondering why everyone else seems to have life sorted while you're secretly Googling "Can you reinvent yourself at 48?" If any of that sounds familiar, welcome. You're in good company. The life you worked so hard to build... Most of us spend the first half of our lives ticking boxes. Get the qualifications. Find a partner. Build a career. Buy a house. Raise children. Remember everyone's PE kit. Somewhere along the way, life becomes one long to-do list. Then one day you stop and think... "Hang on... was this the destination or just the journey?" Nobody warned us about this bit There comes a point where things start shifting. The children need you less (or only when they want money). Your parents need you more. Your body starts making strange noises every time you stand up. You realise there are fewer years ahead than behind. Cheery thought, isn't it? But it's also strangely freeing. You start asking different questions. Not, "What should I do next?" But... "What do I actually want?" It's not really a crisis I think "midlife crisis" is a bit unfair. Most people I meet aren't having a crisis. They're having a reality check. The things that used to motivate them don't anymore. The career they've worked years to build suddenly feels... fine. The relationship they're in raises questions they never had time to ask. The hobbies they used to enjoy don't quite hit the same. It's not because anything is wrong. It's because you've changed. The hidden pressure There's another reason this stage of life can feel uncomfortable. By now, you've usually built an identity. You're the reliable one. The successful one. The funny one. The parent. The carer. The person who always holds everything together. When you've spent years being who everyone else needs you to be, it can feel surprisingly difficult to answer a simple question: "Who am I when I'm not looking after everyone else?" The good news Here's what I want people to know. Questioning your life doesn't mean you've failed. Feeling restless doesn't mean you're ungrateful. Wanting something different doesn't make you selfish. Sometimes it's simply your mind saying, "Excuse me... we've been on autopilot for a while. Could we have a little look at the map?" Counselling isn't about blowing your life up People sometimes worry that if they come to counselling they'll leave their job, divorce their partner and move to a shepherd's hut in Wales. That's not how it works. Counselling isn't about making dramatic decisions. It's about understanding why you're feeling the way you do. Sometimes people make big changes. More often, they make small ones that have a surprisingly big impact. They reconnect with themselves. They stop living on autopilot. They start saying yes to what matters and no to what doesn't. Maybe this is the start of something What if this isn't a midlife crisis at all? What if it's the first time in years you've stopped long enough to ask yourself whether the life you've built is still the life you want? That doesn't mean throwing everything away. It just means giving yourself permission to be curious. Because sometimes the second half of life isn't about becoming someone new. It's about finally becoming yourself.

Let's be honest. Most of us have sat down to watch just one episode of a true crime documentary, only to look up four hours later wondering why we're emotionally invested in a serial killer from Ohio and whether we've remembered to lock the back door. It's a bit odd when you think about it. Millions of us choose to spend our evenings watching some of the darkest stories imaginable. Murder. Fraud. Kidnapping. Cults. We shake our heads in disbelief, announce, "People are awful," and then click Next Episode. So... what's going on? Our brains love solving puzzles Humans are naturally curious. Give us an unanswered question and our brains itch to solve it. Who did it? How did they get away with it? Why didn't anyone notice? True crime gives us a mystery, and our brains love mysteries. We want the loose ends tied up and the story to make sense. Sometimes it's less about the crime itself and more about satisfying our need for an ending. We like to think we'd spot the warning signs If you're anything like me, you've probably watched a documentary and confidently declared, "I'd have known something wasn't right." Would we? Probably not. But our brains like to believe they would. Watching these stories can create an illusion of control. If we learn enough, maybe we'll recognise danger and keep ourselves safe. It's comforting to think there are clues. Real life isn't always that neat. It's a safe way to experience fear People pay good money to watch horror films, ride rollercoasters and jump out of aeroplanes. Why? Because our brains enjoy excitement when we know we're actually safe. Watching true crime can work in a similar way. Your heart races. You feel anxious. Your brain releases adrenaline. But you're still sitting on your sofa with a cup of tea and a biscuit. Your nervous system gets the thrill without the actual danger. We want to understand people One of the biggest questions in true crime is rarely what happened. It's why. How does someone become capable of doing something unimaginable? Could I ever become like that? Could someone I know? We're endlessly fascinated by human behaviour, particularly when it falls outside what we think is "normal". Trying to understand doesn't mean approving. It means making sense of something that feels impossible to understand. We secretly like certainty Most documentaries have a beginning, a middle and an end. Someone investigates. Questions get answered. Justice is served—or we know why it wasn't. Life isn't usually like that. Our own problems are often messy, uncertain and unresolved. There's something oddly satisfying about watching a story that eventually reaches a conclusion, even if it's a tragic one. But there's another side... Not everyone watches true crime because it's entertaining. Sometimes we're drawn to it because it reflects something inside us. Perhaps we've experienced trauma ourselves. Perhaps we've been manipulated or controlled. Perhaps we're trying to understand something that happened in our own family. Sometimes watching someone else's story helps us make sense of our own. If that's you, it's worth noticing how these programmes leave you feeling. Do you finish them feeling informed? Or exhausted? Curious? Or frightened? There's no right or wrong answer, but it's useful to pay attention. It's okay to switch it off If you've watched three documentaries in a row and now you're convinced your neighbour is running an international crime syndicate because they put the bins out at 2am... ...it might be time for a break. Our brains are brilliant at spotting patterns. The more danger we consume, the more danger we start to see. The world can begin to feel far more threatening than it really is.  Curiosity is human I don't think our fascination with true crime means there's something wrong with us. I think it says something about what it means to be human. We want to understand. We want to feel safe. We want stories to make sense. And we want to believe that even in the darkest moments, there are things we can learn. Maybe that's why we keep watching. Just perhaps don't start another series at 10.30 on a Sunday night. You'll only end up checking every door twice before bed.

As we head into the holiday season, where for some, there is that dreaded question which you encounter from friends, family, the hairdresser, dentist, it can smack you in the face at any time...... 'So, where are you going on holiday this year?' And perhaps at the moment, you just feel lucky being able to afford petrol. We easily slip into the comparison thought trap. People rarely come into therapy saying, "I compare myself to everyone around me and it's making me miserable." Instead, they say things like: "I feel like I'm falling behind." "Everyone else seems to know what they're doing." "I don't know why I can't be more like them." Different words. Same struggle. Comparison has a sneaky way of creeping into our lives. Sometimes it arrives through social media. Sometimes it appears at family gatherings when someone asks what you're doing with your life. Sometimes it turns up completely uninvited when an old school friend announces a promotion, engagement, marathon, house move, or some other achievement before you've even had your morning coffee. Suddenly, you're questioning your entire existence because somebody you haven't spoken to in fifteen years has learned to make sourdough. It's exhausting. We All Do It One of the biggest myths about comparison is that confident people don't do it. They do. The people who seem to have it all together often sit in my counselling room worrying they're not doing enough, achieving enough, earning enough, or being enough. Comparison doesn't discriminate. It finds the successful person and tells them someone else is doing better. It finds the happy person and points out someone who looks happier. It finds the person who has achieved their goals and immediately moves the goalposts. No wonder so many of us feel tired. The Problem Is We Compare Our Inside to Everyone Else's Outside You know all your doubts. You know the mistakes you've made. You know the arguments you've had, the nights you've lain awake worrying, the moments you've felt lost, insecure, jealous, frightened, or completely fed up. You have access to the full behind-the-scenes version of your life. But when you look at someone else, you usually see the edited highlights. The promotion. The holiday. The happy photo. The exciting news. You don't see the anxiety, the setbacks, the therapy sessions, the relationship struggles, or the moments they wondered whether they were good enough. Yet somehow we compare the two as if it's a fair contest. It's a bit like comparing your blooper reel to someone else's movie trailer. Of course, you're going to come off worse. We Keep Thinking We'll Feel Better Once We Catch Up Many people live with an invisible belief that sounds something like this: Once I achieve that, I'll finally feel okay. Once I lose the weight. Get the relationship. Buy the house. Get the qualification. Earn the money. Then I'll feel enough. The trouble is, enough has a habit of moving. You reach the goal, and for a moment it feels good. Then your attention shifts to the next thing you don't have. And before long, you're running another race you never consciously signed up for. There Is No Universal Timeline Life is wonderfully messy. Some people meet the love of their life at twenty-five. Others at sixty-five. Some people know exactly what career they want. Others change direction three or four times. Some become parents. Some don't. Some travel the world. Some stay rooted in one place. None of these paths are more correct than the others. Yet we often treat life as though there is a master schedule we're all supposed to follow. As if somewhere there is a giant clipboard keeping track of who's ahead and who's behind. Thankfully, there isn't. The Things We Don't Give Ourselves Credit For One thing I notice in counselling is how quick people are to dismiss their own growth. They'll tell me they're struggling, then casually mention that six months ago, they couldn't leave the house without anxiety. Or they'll talk about feeling stuck while describing boundaries they never would have set a year ago. Or they'll tell me they haven't achieved much, despite surviving one of the hardest periods of their life. We are often remarkably blind to our own progress. Perhaps because it happens gradually. Or perhaps because we're too busy looking at everyone else's journey to notice our own. What If You Looked Inward Instead of Sideways? I'm not suggesting you'll never compare yourself again. You're human. Your brain will continue doing what brains do. But perhaps the next time comparison appears, you could pause and ask yourself: What am I really feeling right now? Because underneath comparison there is often something tender. A longing. A fear. A hope. A question about whether we're enough. And maybe that's where our attention needs to go. Not towards what someone else has, but towards what we need. A Final Thought The older I get, and the longer I work as a counsellor, the more convinced I become that nobody really has life figured out. Some people are just better at hiding the uncertainty. Most of us are making it up as we go along. Learning. Adjusting. Getting things wrong. Trying again. So if you've found yourself comparing lately, be gentle with yourself. Take a breath. Look away from everyone else's path for a moment. And notice your own. It may not look exactly as you imagined. But it's yours. And that counts for far more than we often realise.

When Depression Makes Counselling Feel Frustrating One of the most honest things clients say in counselling is: “I don’t think this is helping.” When someone is experiencing depression, that feeling can be especially strong. People may attend sessions, talk about their struggles, try different approaches, and still wake up feeling heavy, tired, or emotionally flat. From a counsellor’s perspective, this moment is very common in the therapeutic process. It is also often where some of the most important work begins. Depression Can Change How Progress Feels Depression does not only affect mood. It can influence how people perceive change, effort, and hope. People experiencing depression often describe: feeling stuck difficulty noticing positive changes low motivation emotional numbness frustration with themselves Even when small improvements are happening, depression can make them hard to recognise. Clients sometimes say things like: “I’m still struggling, so therapy must not be working.” “I thought I would feel better by now.” “I’m tired of talking about things.” These reactions are completely understandable. When someone is suffering, it is natural to want relief quickly. The Hidden Work of Therapy Counselling can sometimes feel slow because much of the work is internal and gradual. Changes often happen in subtle ways first: understanding patterns more clearly recognising emotional triggers learning to pause before reacting noticing thoughts rather than immediately believing them These shifts might not instantly remove depression, but they begin to change how someone relates to it. It can be a bit like learning a new language. At first, progress feels invisible. Then gradually, one day, you realise you understand more than you thought. Depression Often Affects Motivation Another challenge is that depression frequently drains energy and motivation. Tasks that once felt simple, such as getting out of bed, responding to messages, or going outside, can suddenly feel overwhelming. So when counselling asks someone to reflect, practise coping strategies, or make small changes in daily routines, it can feel exhausting. Clients sometimes interpret this as failure. “I’m not doing therapy properly.” From a counsellor’s perspective, this is not failure. It is often simply the reality of working through depression. The Importance of Talking About the Frustration One of the most valuable moments in therapy is when a client openly says: “I feel like this isn’t helping.” Rather than being a problem, this honesty allows the counselling relationship to deepen. It creates space to explore questions such as: What expectations did we have for therapy? What changes have we noticed, even if they are small? Are there different approaches that might help? Are there other supports that could be useful alongside counselling? Sometimes this conversation leads to adjusting the pace or focus of therapy. Sometimes it highlights progress that depression has made difficult to see. Therapy Is Not Always a Straight Line There is a common assumption that mental health recovery should follow a steady upward path. In reality it often looks more like progress in different directions. There may be forward steps, sideways steps, and occasional steps back. Periods where things feel stagnant or frustrating do not necessarily mean therapy is failing. Often they are part of working through complex emotional experiences. A Counsellor’s Perspective From the counselling chair, when someone says therapy is not working, it rarely means the work has been wasted. More often it means the person is: tired discouraged wanting relief unsure whether change is possible These feelings deserve attention and compassion. Depression can be very convincing when it tells someone that nothing will ever improve. Therapy is not about forcing change overnight. It is about gradually building understanding, resilience, and new ways of responding to life. A Final Thought If counselling feels frustrating during depression, it does not necessarily mean something is wrong with you or with the process. Sometimes it simply means you are in the middle of the work, not at the end of it. From a counsellor’s perspective, staying in that space and speaking honestly about the difficulty can be one of the bravest and most important steps someone takes toward healing.

Many people arrive in counselling with a quiet but painful question: “Why do I still feel affected by my parents?” They might have grown up with criticism, emotional distance, unpredictability, or a lack of support. Sometimes nothing dramatic happened, yet something still feels missing. When people begin exploring these experiences, they often feel conflicted. On one hand, they recognise that their upbringing affected them. On the other, they may feel guilty for even thinking this way. Books like It Didn't Start With You by Mark Wolynn explore how emotional patterns and unresolved pain can travel across generations. The idea is that many struggles we experience today may have roots not only in our childhood, but sometimes in the experiences of our parents and even earlier generations. Understanding this can be both confronting and relieving. When Parents Don’t Meet Our Needs Parents are often expected to provide safety, guidance, and emotional support. But in reality, many parents are raising children while carrying their own unresolved struggles. They may have experienced: trauma loss poverty or instability emotionally distant parenting themselves cultural or generational expectations about emotions Without support, these experiences can shape how someone parents their own children. This doesn’t mean harmful behaviour is acceptable. But it can help explain why some parents simply didn’t have the tools to offer what their children needed. The Question of Forgiveness When people reflect on difficult childhood experiences, the topic of forgiveness often comes up. Forgiveness, however, can be misunderstood. It doesn’t mean: pretending nothing happened excusing hurtful behaviour allowing harmful patterns to continue Instead, forgiveness can sometimes mean releasing the emotional hold the past has on the present. It may involve recognising that while our parents shaped us, they do not have to define the rest of our lives. For some people, forgiveness feels possible. For others, what matters more is acceptance and emotional distance. Both paths can be valid. Moving On Without Denying the Past Counselling often focuses on helping people acknowledge their experiences without being trapped by them. This can involve: recognising how childhood patterns influence adult relationships identifying beliefs formed early in life developing self-compassion creating healthier emotional boundaries Sometimes the most powerful shift comes from understanding that the story didn’t begin with you, but it can change with you. Patterns that have existed for generations can begin to shift when someone chooses to respond differently. Breaking the Cycle One of the most meaningful outcomes of this work is the opportunity to break cycles. People who reflect on their upbringing often become more intentional about: how they relate to others how they manage emotions how they communicate and set boundaries how they parent their own children In this way, exploring the past is not about blame. It’s about understanding. And from understanding comes the possibility of doing things differently. A Compassionate Perspective From a counselling perspective, it’s common to see people carrying guilt about feeling hurt by their parents. But acknowledging pain does not mean someone is ungrateful or disloyal. It simply means they are being honest about their experience. Books like It Didn’t Start With You remind us that many families carry invisible emotional histories. Understanding these histories can help people approach their past with more compassion — both for themselves and sometimes for the generations that came before them. The Opportunity to Choose We cannot change the families we were born into. But we can choose how we respond to what we’ve inherited. We can learn new ways of relating to ourselves and others. We can set boundaries where needed. And we can create different patterns moving forward. In many ways, healing is not about rewriting the past. It’s about recognising that the future does not have to repeat it.

If you have ever opened your phone to check one headline and somehow resurfaced 45 minutes later feeling tense, worried, and slightly doom-soaked, you are not alone. Recent global events, including military tensions such as the attack on Iran, can stir up a lot of emotion. Even when events are happening far away, our nervous systems do not always recognise distance. They simply register “threat” and switch on. As a counsellor, I have noticed more clients saying things like: “I feel on edge and I do not know why.” “I keep checking for updates.” “I feel guilty for carrying on with normal life.” “What if this escalates?” If that sounds familiar, take a breath. Nothing is wrong with you. You are responding like a human in an interconnected world. Here are some light but practical ways to stay grounded when global events feel heavy. 1. Create a News Container Instead of letting the news drip into your day at random, put it in a container. That might look like: Checking updates once in the morning and once in the evening Turning off push notifications Avoiding news scrolling in bed Your brain handles information better when it knows there is a boundary. Constant exposure keeps your nervous system on standby mode. A scheduled check-in gives you information without letting it take over. Think of it as sipping from the fire hose rather than standing underneath it. 2. Do a 60-Second Reality Check When anxiety spikes, pause and ask: Am I personally in immediate danger right now? Where am I? What can I see around me? Often, the answer is that you are at home, at work, or sitting with a cup of tea. Your body may feel like it is in crisis, but your environment is stable. This tiny grounding moment helps your nervous system recalibrate. 3. Move Your Body to Move the Stress Anxiety is energy. If it stays stuck, it turns into tension. You do not need a full workout. Try: A brisk 10-minute walk Stretching your shoulders and neck Shaking out your arms and legs Taking three slow, deliberate breaths Physical movement tells your brain, “I am safe enough to move.” That message matters. 4. Swap Doom Scrolling for Purpose Scrolling If you feel helpless, your brain will look for more information. Instead, gently redirect it. You could: Read about humanitarian aid efforts Donate to a trusted organisation Have a thoughtful conversation instead of an argument Write down one small action that reflects your values Anxiety shrinks when we reconnect with agency. You cannot solve global conflict, but you can choose how you show up in your own community. 5. Keep Living Your Ordinary Life One of the quiet tricks of anxiety is convincing you that joy is inappropriate when the world is struggling. It is not. You are allowed to: Laugh at a silly video Cook your favourite meal Plan a holiday Enjoy time with people you care about Caring about the world and enjoying your own life are not opposites. They can exist side by side. 6. Notice When It Is Becoming Too Much If you are struggling to sleep, constantly checking headlines, feeling panicky, or finding that your thoughts are stuck on worst-case scenarios, that is a sign to slow things down. Talking to friends, family, or even a counsellor can help you separate healthy concern from spiralling anxiety. Sometimes the most powerful step is simply saying out loud, “I am finding this hard.” A Gentle Reminder You are not responsible for holding the weight of global events on your shoulders. You are responsible for caring for your nervous system, your relationships, and your wellbeing. When you stay steady, you contribute something meaningful to the world: a regulated, thoughtful, compassionate human being. And that truly does matter.

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As a counsellor, January is a fascinating time. Not because anything fundamentally changes in the human psyche overnight but because suddenly, en masse, people decide they will become entirely different people… starting on a random Monday. Ah yes. New Year, New Me. I see it written everywhere. On social media. In WhatsApp groups. Occasionally whispered with a mix of hope and mild panic in my therapy room. But as far as I am concerned you are not a phone that needs a software update. And even if you were, I promise you wouldn’t install version 2.0 at midnight after prosecco and four hours of sleep. January: The Month of Unrealistic Personal Rebrands In January, people arrive with ambitious plans: “This year I’m emotionally regulated.” “I’m setting boundaries.” “I’ll stop procrastinating.” “I’ll finally heal all my childhood stuff.” By January 12th, we’re renegotiating: “Could I just be… slightly less tired?” “What if I keep my coping mechanisms but add one vegetable?” “Is personal growth allowed to nap?” Progress. The Truth Therapists Rarely Put on Instagram Here’s the less glamorous, counsellor-approved reality: Change is slow Growth is inconvenient Insight does not arrive on January 1st wearing activewear Healing often looks like doing the same thing but with a bit more awareness and slightly less self-hatred Also, if “New You” hates the gym, wakes at 5am, journals daily, and drinks green juice, I have some news. That might be Someone Else. Your Nervous System Did Not Agree to This A quick note from your nervous system (which did not attend your New Year planning meeting): “I liked the routines we had. I do not trust sudden enthusiasm. Please stop shouting ‘discipline’ at me.” As a counsellor, I often remind clients: your nervous system prefers consistency, not dramatic reinvention. It likes small, repeatable, boring changes. It thrives on safety, not aggressive vision boards. A More Sustainable Resolution (Counsellor Approved) If you’re open to it, may I suggest an alternative resolution? New Year, Same Me, Just Slightly Kinder. That might look like: Pausing before criticising yourself Resting without earning it Not turning every bad day into a personality flaw Accepting that growth does not require suffering as proof Wild, I know. Final Thoughts You don’t need a new you. You need: More compassion Fewer unrealistic expectations And permission to be human in January, of all months And if you slip up? Congratulations. You are behaving exactly like a person. See you in February, when we quietly admit the real work has always been about acceptance, not reinvention. t source.

Parenting advice can sometimes make it sound like raising a child requires the skills of a therapist, the patience of a monk, and the energy of someone who has had eight hours of sleep… every night… for the past ten years. Which, of course, rules out most parents immediately. Luckily, the British paediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott had some very reassuring news for parents: children don’t need perfect parents. They need “good enough” ones. And “good enough” turns out to be pretty great. The Good Enough Parent According to Winnicott, a good enough parent is someone who: Loves their child Tries to respond to their needs Gets things wrong sometimes Still shows up the next day In other words: a normal human being. At the beginning of life, babies need a lot of care. Feed me. Hold me. Change me. Repeat every two hours forever. Parents usually try their best to respond quickly. But as children grow, parents inevitably become a little less perfectly tuned in. Maybe you don’t hear them the first time they shout “Muuuuuum!” from upstairs. Maybe the snack arrives three minutes later than expected. Maybe the blue cup is in the dishwasher and only the red one is available (a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions). And guess what? Children survive. Why Imperfect Parenting Is Actually Helpful Winnicott believed that small frustrations help children learn important things about life. For example: Sometimes you have to wait. Sometimes things don’t go your way. Sometimes the biscuit breaks in half. These tiny disappointments help children develop resilience, patience, and problem-solving skills. If everything went perfectly all the time, children might grow up thinking the world exists solely to refill their juice cup immediately. And unfortunately, the adult world is not that responsive. The Secret Parenting Skill: Repair Here’s the important part: good enough parents repair things when they go wrong. Maybe you snap because you’re tired. Maybe you misunderstood what your child meant. Maybe you say no to something and later realise you were a bit harsh. A good enough parent simply comes back and says something like: “Sorry I got cross earlier.” “I didn’t listen properly.” “Let’s try again.” This teaches children a powerful lesson: relationships can handle mistakes. And that might be one of the most important things they ever learn. Letting Go of Perfect Parenting Modern parenting can sometimes feel like a performance. You’re supposed to be calm, emotionally attuned, creative, patient, organised, healthy, and probably serving organic vegetables shaped like woodland animals. Meanwhile, real life looks more like: “Is cereal a dinner?” “Why is there LEGO in my shoe?” “Who taught this child the word ‘actually’?” Winnicott’s idea is wonderfully freeing. Ordinary parenting is enough. You don’t have to get everything right. You just have to care, try, and keep showing up. A Helpful Parenting Reality Check If you: Love your child Sometimes get tired or frustrated Occasionally say the wrong thing Then try again tomorrow Congratulations. You are very likely already a good enough parent. And according to Winnicott, that’s exactly what children need.