Which way now…?!

I was once asked by one of my closest friends “is there anything you CAN’T do?” I could instantly in my head think of 101 things I could not do in this lifetime. For me perhaps the hardest of all is finding my little place in the world as often feel the outsider looking in. How I can showcase what I can do and who I am when I cannot shout? I may have academic qualifications that many envy (degree, masters 1 and 2 and PhD) but realise now they were not my real passions and was led to what I thought was my path but was filled with dead ends, promising avenues and false starts. Currently I feel I take one step forward and two back, such is the merry dance life has got me stuck in a loop doing.

So to find a vocation that fits with my interests, skills and traits I have been reading Richard N Bolles’ famous book What color is your parachute?  I have drawn my flower diagram on paper and on my laptop, which you dear reader can see below, and asking friends what jobs or vocations they can see me doing. What do you think? Suggestions from friends have ranged from counsellor and social worker, to trek leader for those with disabilities or older people’s activity co-ordinator, and even policewoman or teacher.


This helped as I thought old ideas a new, such as ecotherapy or therapeutic landscape designer to speech and language therapist. However, with thinking of old ideas, my old negativity and self doubts crept in, with questions over my health too. Things like I cannot drive to I cannot draw due to my dyspraxia, or I get tired easily due to fibromyalgia, and what about my depression?
Ironically, Dick’s next chapter was on dealing with handicaps and disabilities. He suggested I looked at my skills in more detail. Initially I thought there are many things I cannot do, but it forced me to see actually, there are many more things I CAN do than CANNOT, so perhaps my friend was right after all! The results of this are below. However, I still feel no further forward than I was this time last week and maybe last year.


Perhaps my friend was right, the sky really is my limit (well I cannot drive into the sunset)! Finding where we belong can and a job that is us when we do not have a dream of our own, a dream job does not exist as burnt from past experiences or the present feels like it is constant fog.

If asked what my dreams are it is usually for my closest friends to have what they work so hard on in life to get the respect and recognition they deserve, beyond friends and family. For now, I’ll finish reading Dick’s book and may be something(s) will click into place, keep dancing to the rhythm I want to dance to and not the dizzy dance I have been caught in, and like the lens on my camera, focus on what I can control and matters.

© Fi S. J. Brown



This week I have been considering the journey I have made the last decade with my mental health, the stigma I have encountered to the breaking point I reached and the help I got through therapy. A good friend posted a link on Facebook to a newspaper article with Kate Winslet’s negative view of therapy; she could outsmart the person giving her therapy and decided it was not for her. To me, I felt was very out of touch attitude and only added to make the stigma of mental health and addiction worse as could not look beyond what she felt was someone inferior to her.

My own experiences of therapy tell their own tale: It is almost nine years to the day since I started having counselling. I remember well the fear I had to send the email to the university counselling service, it was admitting I had a problem but could they help and did I really need to see a counsellor? I had only done so as my so called boyfriend had pushed me to do so as felt I needed the help they provided. Although it was something I had considered as far back as eight years previously, I never thought the time was right. However, I had decided if I had not moved in 2006, I would not see Christmas as my depression was strangling me so much and living with a narcissist mother that only wanted to control every iota of my life. Therefore, it was certainly the right time at almost twenty eight, to start to understand why I felt so depressed and suicidal much of my life.

My first meeting with Anne was like stepping into someone else’s home with the way she lit her office to the pictures around the room, so immediately felt less like I was going to another part of campus. She had a caring face with a gentle tone of voice that like the lighting made feel at ease. Over the next few months we both realised my issues were far deeper than counselling could offer, she wrote to my GP who by that time had me on antidepressants after I had become suicidal over the Christmas holidays, but he simply asked me if it was true what Anne had written and as I said ‘yes’, the letter was crumpled and put in the bin. It felt like a metaphor for my life, crumpled up and nobody really listening to me; the lyrics to Tori Amos’ “Silent all these years” rang with crumpled paper now sat in my GP’s waste basket. Anne and I tried a new tact and a different doctor in the practice after I had self harmed when in hospital for a then undiagnosed ear infection. This time action was taken and was referred to a clinical psychologist.

To say I was apprehensive on seeing a clinical psychologist was an understatement, to me that made it sound like I genuinely was crazy or mad. Our initial appointment I had to rearrange owing to a visit from my mother that left me in a state of deep depression as felt I could never be free from her clutches or control. However, when I met Ginny I met someone that was willing to go with me on a journey to explore how I got to where I was today, psychodynamic therapy. It took me longer to warm and trust Ginny as felt like it was her not listening at times or full of questions. It was far from easy at times as felt like I was left at the edge of a cliff and then was expected to return to the world, continuing my PhD research, with all these memories and emotions going round in my head that somehow I had to leave them and focus on what I needed to. It was only after my suicide attempt eight years ago that I began to realise just what it was she was getting at. By the following autumn as we said ‘goodbye’ I felt sadness as realised she had given me stepping stones to move forward in life and most importantly was no longer afraid of my mother!

Since then I have found good friends that I know I can open up to but know I do need further help to deal with some issues still unresolved. I use creativity such as writing and photography to walking around nature as my self imposed therapy. Through it all I have grown to accept and appreciate me the person as I see my mother for the narcissistic woman she is and my brother that hurt me badly as an overgrown child that depends on her so much, neither able to see or accept how much they did and do hurt me still. I also accept why my father left my mother and my many issues I felt with him leaving, not being there when I needed to support.

In addition, I have learnt therapy is something we all need at times in our life, it is hard and dark, but with professional help we can find candles to hang that show there is light and where it hides. I would go so far it is part of healthy living to know and understand it is okay to ask for help in this way, as you would a doctor for a lump on a breast or broken ankle. I am currently deciding if this is not a path I should consider myself, to become a counsellor or psychologist, as love to help others and naturally empathetic, using my creativity and love of nature. I welcome thoughts from others on this, some I have asked say it is very me as already the empathetic ear or shoulder to rest that does not judge anyone and lets someone be themselves, allow them to grow and bloom to whatever or whoever they want to be.

© Fi S. J. Brown