Siobhan Graham Psychotherapy

19/08/2026

I didn't expect the second year of grief to feel harder in some ways than the first.

It's almost 18 months since Mum died - I've been thinking about this while on holiday.

The first year was full of firsts - the first birthday, summer, Christmas, family celebrations and anniversary of her death. Almost everything was new, and I think part of me was still trying to catch up with what had happened.

Then the second year came.

The firsts weren't firsts anymore. People weren't checking in quite so often. Life around me had, understandably, returned to ‘normal’.

Except mine hadn't.

And somehow, being away brought that home.

The sun was shining. We were enjoying lovely dinners, cocktails and time together as a family.

I had so much to be grateful for.

And yet I felt incredibly sad.

I found myself talking about Mum to the girls more than I expected. We'd wonder what she'd have thought, what she'd have liked - even which cocktails she'd have chosen!

She wasn't there, but she was still part of our conversations.

Then came the moments when the reality of her absence hit me.

She's actually not coming back.

I think that was the difference.

The first year was about learning to live with the fact that Mum had died.

The second year feels more like learning what her absence means for the rest of my life.

I haven't holidayed with Mum for years. That's not what I was missing.

It was the little things - not being able to tell her about somewhere I'd been, hear what she thought or share the things I knew she'd have loved.

And I felt guilty for being sad.

How could I be sitting in the sunshine, surrounded by people I love, eating lovely food and still feel so desperately sad?

I knew gratitude and grief could coexist. I just hadn't experienced how complicated that could feel.

I struggled with being grateful for the life I have and the all consuming grief of missing my mum.

At one point, part of me didn't want to come home.

Because coming home meant returning to the reality that Mum wasn't coming home.

I'm learning that grief doesn't stay at home when we travel.

It comes with us.

And perhaps that's because love does too.

10/08/2026

To everyone collecting GCSE or A level results this month...

I know this can be a time filled with anticipation, excitement and hope.

It can also be a time of worry, self-doubt and "what ifs."

If you're waiting for results, I'd like you to remember this:

Your grades matter, but they do not define you.

They reflect how you performed in a set of exams taken over a short period of time. They do not measure your kindness, your resilience, your creativity, your determination or the countless qualities that make you who you are.

For some, results week will bring celebration.

For others, it may bring disappointment, uncertainty or a change of plan.

Whatever happens, give yourself permission to feel what you're feeling.

If you're celebrating, allow yourself to feel proud of what you've achieved.

If things haven't gone the way you hoped, allow yourself time to feel disappointed.

Both are valid.

Try not to measure your success against somebody else's results. We all begin from different starting points, face different challenges and follow different paths.

Life doesn't always follow the route we imagined, but that doesn't mean it can't still take us somewhere meaningful.

Sometimes the path changes.

Sometimes our destination changes too.

Neither means you've failed.

Whatever happens on results day, there will be more than one path to where you want to be.

And finally, to the young people I've had the privilege of working alongside...

I know how much courage it has taken for many of you simply to reach this point. Some of you have balanced revision alongside anxiety, panic attacks, low mood, perfectionism, family difficulties or health challenges. I've seen the effort you've put in, the setbacks you've faced and the determination you've shown.

Whatever your results, I couldn't be prouder of you. 🤍

07/08/2026

Anxiety can be incredibly powerful. It can make everyday experiences feel overwhelming and slowly shrink the world of a young person.

But with the right support, patience and courage, that world can begin to open up again.

One of the greatest privileges of my work is witnessing that change.

Starting therapy can feel daunting - especially for young people.

It takes courage to sit in a room with someone new and begin talking about the things that feel overwhelming. It takes courage to acknowledge that anxiety, worry or fear has started to impact your life, and to be willing to try something
different.

But therapy is not about someone else "fixing" things for you.

It's about learning to understand yourself, developing new skills and discovering that you are capable of more than you may have believed.

This lovely feedback from the parent of a young person I worked with captures something I see time and time again.

Change rarely happens overnight.

It happens through small steps, brave moments and the willingness to keep trying - even when things feel difficult.

Watching a young person move from feeling trapped by anxiety and panic to becoming more confident, independent and willing to step outside their comfort zone is incredibly special.

As therapists, we may guide, encourage and support, but the courage to keep showing up belongs to the young person.

The hard work, determination and growth are theirs.

Feedback like this is a wonderful reminder of why I love the work I do.
🤍

28/07/2026

Grief is like glitter ✨

I came across this metaphor recently and it stopped me in my tracks because, for me, it captures something about grief that can be so difficult to put into words.

In the beginning, grief can feel like it is everywhere.

It’s on your hands, in your hair and scattered across every corner of your life. You try to clean it up, to restore some sense of order, and for a while it can feel as though you are finding your way through.

Then, when you least expect it, you find another little piece.

A birthday.
A favourite song.
A familiar scent.
A moment when you instinctively want to pick up the phone and share something with them.

For me, celebrating my girls’ birthdays this year brought one of those moments. The joy was there, but so was the very real reminder of the Mum-shaped hole that remains. Someone who should have been there to share those milestones with us was missing.

I am still learning how to live alongside grief. I don’t think it disappears completely - and perhaps that makes sense, because the love behind it doesn’t disappear either.

What I am slowly discovering is that grief changes.

The sharpness softens. The moments that once felt impossible can become mixed with warmth, gratitude and love.

Those unexpected pieces of glitter are not signs that we are stuck in grief.

They are reminders that someone mattered.

And that the love we shared is still part of who we are.

If you are navigating your own grief, I hope you know you are not alone. 🤍

25/05/2026

There is a brutal, heavy truth that far too many women realise when it is already too late: nobody is handing you a medal for destroying yourself for the sake of everyone else. There will be no standing ovation for a perfectly sanitized kitchen.
Nobody is building a monument in your honor because you spent years silently carrying the emotional labour of the entire household, managing everyone’s schedules, and walking on eggshells around everyone else's moods.
You aren't getting a trophy for being the ultimate people-pleaser while completely abandoning yourself.
You are under no obligation to be the mum who always has it together. The wife who never gets tired. The employee who has burned out into ash but still flashes a polite, compliant corporate smile. The friend who plays therapist for everyone else while she can barely stand on her own two feet.
This romanticised image of the "strong woman" only looks beautiful from a distance. Up close, it’s usually just a woman who hasn’t slept through the night in months.
It’s a woman who hasn’t bought herself something purely for the joy of it in years. A woman who stopped asking herself, "But what do I actually want?" a long time ago.
Because your life has become a never-ending checklist of "have-to's." You have to clean. You have to prep. You have to reply. You have to help. You have to tolerate it. You just have to grit your teeth and keep pushing.
And then, one day, your body looks at you and says, "Enough." And it won't be asking for your permission.
So please, hit the brakes before you hit a brick wall. Don't wait for the day you physically cannot drag yourself out of bed. Don't wait until you are hollowed out inside. Don't wait for the moment you look in the mirror and don't even recognise the stranger staring back at you.
Stop today.
Leave the dishes in the sink. Trust me -they aren't going anywhere. Stop stressing over whether the laundry is perfectly folded and color-coded. The world will not stop spinning.
Go out and get a coffee by yourself. Buy yourself the flowers, even if there’s no "special occasion." Wear that dress you’ve been saving in the back of your wardrobe for "some day." There is already a special occasion: you are alive.
Disappear for a few hours without giving a three-page explanation. Sleep. Just sleep. With zero guilt.
Your kids will grow up and build lives of their own. Partners come and go. Friendships shift. And as for your job? They will post your open position on Indeed faster than anyone in that office can even process your absence. The dust will settle back on the furniture tomorrow, no matter how furiously you scrubbed it today.
But you... you only get one life.
If you have spent years pouring love into everyone else’s cups, it is officially time to pour some into your own. Not eventually. Not after the holidays. Not when "things finally settle down." Right now. Today.
Because you are not a machine. You are not a function. You are not someone else’s endless emotional support system without the right to be exhausted. You are a living, breathing human being. You feel. You get tired. You dream. And you deserve to receive just as much as you give.
You have earned the right to rest. To tenderness. To joy. To quiet. To be taken care of. And to finally find the woman you used to be.
Author Unknown

23/03/2026

This really resonates with what I’ve seen in my practice over the years.
Midlife for many women isn’t a gentle transition - it’s a collision. Hormonal changes, ageing parents, adult children, grief, career shifts, identity changes … all at once. And still, the expectation is to just cope.
So many women are holding this quietly, often minimising their own needs. It’s not surprising that many don’t seek support - but it is concerning.
If anything, this isn’t a hidden crisis because it’s rare - it’s hidden because it’s been normalised.
We need to get much better at recognising what’s actually happening at this stage of life - and responding in a way that joins up physical health, mental health, and the weight of social expectations women are carrying.
Your thoughts?

Illustration: Marta Lanuza

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2026/mar/22/hidden-mental-health-crisis-gen-x-women?CMP=share_btn_url

29/12/2025

For me this year has been one of loss, survival, and learning how to carry grief.

As it comes to a close, it feels important to pause and acknowledge the people who showed up in quiet, meaningful ways — those who listened, supported, encouraged, and reminded me who I was when things felt uncertain.

I’m not asking anything of the year ahead — just taking it as it comes. Sometimes it’s enough to simply mark the end of a difficult year and allow space for what might come next.

Closing this year with gratitude, reflection, and kindness towards the days ahead 🤍

25/12/2025

23/12/2025

As the year comes to a close, take a moment to acknowledge how you’re feeling — whatever that may be — and remind yourself that you are enough, just as you are.

Allow yourself time to rest, to slow down, and to be gentle with yourself. It’s okay if this time of year feels difficult, lonely, or overwhelming — your feelings are real and they matter.

And in the midst of everything, let’s remember the things we all truly need: time, rest, peace, comfort, and joy. I hope you find moments of self-compassion, understanding, and care in the weeks ahead.

Artwork: LucyClaireIllustration

19/12/2025

Implementing boundaries over the festive period can be challenging.
We often feel pressure to stick to traditions, avoid disagreements, and ‘keep the peace’.
It’s important to remember that you matter.
Setting healthy boundaries is an empowering way to protect your well-being and feel more in control during this busy season.

via Counselling Directory