Therapy speak is now so popular that you can’t buy a pie at Big Joe’s Food Van without hearing someone talking about boundaries. I have to confess – because I have no filter and will tell anyone anything – that I’m one of those people who go to therapy. This is for a number of reasons that I won’t go into (hey, check out my boundaries!), but I enjoy it because I’m curious about the way my mind works.
It’s baffling to me that I’m still a mystery to myself at the age of 51, but there you go. Also, maybe one day I will understand simple cases of cause and effect, such as: ‘I get angry when I’m tired’ and ‘When I’m stressed, I need to go for a walk, not stare at Instagram for five hours and 32 minutes.’
The younger people I know seem to have a much better handle on managing their day-to-day mental health. They talk fluently about self-care and although they still get it wrong sometimes – and also wear some terrible clothes – I’m always impressed by their ability to see the bigger picture.
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The other week, my 16-year-old son blamed me for rushing him and making him forget his iPad, but then later on told me he was sorry for projecting. PROJECTING! When I was 16 my brain was as smooth as a chicken fillet and could be divided into three sections – boys/whether we could get in the Kenilworth pub with fake ID/my Billy Liar GCSE essay.
If you’d asked me to explain the psychological concept of projecting, I would have shrugged and gone back to browsing through the racks at Top Shop in Stockport Precinct.