This sign is actually supposed to be about real estate (‘position, position, position’). But another form of exposure crossed my mind when I saw it (and not the lewd sort either).

For there’s yet another kind of exposure that’s worth exploring – graded exposure therapy. And interestingly enough, that also involves position in a way; the art of positioning yourself in a different place in relation to your fears.

So how does it work?

Graded exposure comes from a place of deep rationality (something that fears and anxiety don’t always base themselves on).

It takes you out of that internal realm of the dark imaginings of the mind and gradually brings you back into the external world. It asks your inner fears and anxieties and dreads to come out of your head and back into the light of day (where they’re usually reassured that it just isn’t anywhere near as bad as they presumed it might be). It invites you to get a bit more forensic about the problem and really experiment with it – find out the actual result, not the imagined one – and in the process, to discover your true experience of the world.

But how?

“No Leave No Life.”

This billboard is only meant to be about taking time off work. Just going on holiday; planning a trip; embracing a bit of tourism.

But if you read it again, a little differently, it seems to whisper at something much bigger.

Something more like: if there’s no leaving, there’s no life.
Or: there’s no life without leaving.

Suddenly, it seems to be about mortality, our ticket out of here, already booked for and paid in advance. For, in a way, we’re only tourists here, in this life.

It’s pretty big to think about.

So how can we bear this knowledge – that we have to leave at some time? Leave this life, leave all the people we love, leave all that we know.
(Maybe even leave all that we are…).

Coping with the holiday season isn’t always easy at the best of times. But if you’ve had a hard year – a time of upheaval or illness or loss – it can be a real challenge.

In Part 1 of this post, we looked at some ideas which people felt helped them get through the darker undercurrents of the festive season. Here are some more of their tips.

Maybe they’ll spark some ideas that could support you at this time…
Let the tears come if they want
Sometimes the tension can build for weeks around this time of year, especially if it marks an important anniversary or memory for you. If you sense the tension building, sometimes people have found it helpful to ‘meet’ with the sadness regularly, to release it.

So what might it be like, in the weeks leading up to the celebrations, to regularly take some time to simply feel your sorrow, or your anger, or to cry your tears?

Maybe making an appointment with your sorrow like this can ease the pressure, and maybe even help you breathe easier on the big day.

As the end of the year rolls around, it can seem like the carols are fairly chasing you around town, many of them insisting that this is ‘the season to be jolly’.

But it is not always so.

For whatever you might celebrate at this time of year, there are also some deeper seasonal undercurrents which may draw you down into a darker, more difficult space. Sorrow or pain may also be part of your personal end-of-year traditions. And amid all the gift-giving, these are the things that are rarely unwrapped…

There are so many reasons why this time of year might be challenging for you. Maybe this is the first year since a loved-one died. Maybe your closest relationship ended recently, or is in a painful place, and you’re feeling suddenly alone. Maybe your family ties are fractured, and it just feels too raw to be together. Perhaps a painful event happened around this time of year (and every year you feel you’re re-living its echoes). Maybe you or someone you love is facing a serious illness.

Or maybe you just plan on ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘keeping the peace’ by meeting others’ expectations and celebrating with particular people, when you’d secretly prefer to be anywhere but …

Whatever difficulties this time of year might hold for you, there are ways you can help lighten the load. And in the spirit of narrative and feminist therapies – which suggest that our own stories all have important wisdoms to share – here are some ideas which clients have previously shared, which they found useful. (They might work for you, too).

The footpaths were littered with camellia blossoms this morning, as I walked around the streets. Perfect pink blooms dropped onto the pavement.

I heard a saying, once, about this phenomenon. These flowers, falling mid-bloom from the tree, echoes the way we’ll all fall from the tree of life one day.

Unexpectedly (even when it’s expected).
And often with a sense of ‘too soon.’

So how might we prepare for this?

Are there things that could make it easier when our time (inevitably) comes?

And what might our death actually have to teach us about living?

When this street art tiger leaped out of the shadows on a rainy night recently, what struck me was the vast size of its head compared to the thin wood of the chair before it.

The whole scene seemed to echo the suspect circus routines I’d seen in my childhood, where lions and tigers would be ‘tamed’ by a ringmaster wielding a chair. Yet on this night, the chair seemed pretty slim defense in the face of such an opponent.

It also reminded me of a talk I’d heard several years ago, by a Jungian analyst who specialized in working with people who were living with eating disorders. With her client’s permission to pass this story on, she shared how that person had described their relationship with anxiety and anorexia , which went something like this: