Waiting in the wind

Sometimes life carries us into a space where nothing feels steady. The ground beneath us seems to shift, the paths we once knew no longer guide us, and the versions of ourselves we have relied on no longer fit. We are caught between who we were and who we are becoming, suspended in that in-between place where fear, exhaustion, and possibility swirl together.

It is a place that asks us to wait without rushing, to breathe without resisting, and to trust without seeing the landing. I have been in that space, and I know what it feels like to be carried by the wind, unsure where you will land, unsure what parts of yourself will remain when you do. It is a place of both vulnerability and quiet power, of sorrow and awakening.

Waiting in the wind

I wait in this place of realisation.
A tear lingers on my cheek, witness to the pain of hiding, the pain of performing, the ache of feeling both too much and not enough.

I have been too nice, too outspoken, too direct.
I have shapeshifted into many versions of myself, each one a survival, each one a shield.

I am scared of my power.
I am lonely in it.
I do not yet know the way back to myself.

The safety nets that once held me, keeping me from falling, keeping me breathing, keeping me safe, have loosened. Now the wind carries me. And I wait to land somewhere grounded, somewhere whole.

I wait.
I breathe.
I allow myself to feel the exhaustion of this in between. I allow myself to sit with it.

And in this waiting, I realise: I am not lost.
I am transforming.
I am shedding what I no longer need so that the full, unshakable me can take root.

Here, in this pause, I honor the courage it took to survive and the courage it takes to let go.
Here, I rest in the wind and trust the landing will come.

For anyone else navigating that space between who you were and who you’re becoming, it’s okay to wait. It’s okay to feel the uncertainty, the fear, the exhaustion. It’s okay to just breathe and let yourself sit with it. The wind may carry you, but it is also teaching you. And eventually, you will land, steadier, stronger, and more whole than before.

If you could see

A Reflection on Worth and Visibility

Sometimes, we fail to see the value in ourselves. We dim our light, quiet our spark, and give pieces of ourselves away, believing we are less than we are.

This poem grew from my work as a therapist and from what I so often witness in others, the strength, courage, and quiet wisdom that can go unseen, even by the person who carries it. It is a reminder that even when self-doubt whispers otherwise, your presence, insight, and contributions matter deeply.

If You Could See

You paint the air with colours bright
yet hide your canvas out of sight
You give away your crown, your flame
then tell yourself you are not the same

But I have seen the light you throw
the way you make the small things grow
the spark that flickers in your eyes
the truth you hold, the quiet wise

If you could see the view I see
you would wear your heart more fearlessly
You would keep your colours, let them stay
and never give yourself away

This poem is for anyone who feels unimportant, overlooked, or like their contributions do not matter. My hope is that it reminds you of your inherent worth and that the world, even if you cannot always see it yourself, is brighter because you are in it.

In counselling, one of the most powerful things I can do is witness someone fully, reflecting back their strengths, courage, and value. Sometimes we just need someone to see us so that we can begin to see ourselves.

As you read, I invite you to pause and ask: What light do I carry that I might not always see?

What kind of relationship do you have with yourself?

The Mirror Within

The way we see ourselves is not just a reflection in a mirror. It is the lens through which we experience the world. For many, this lens is clouded by early experiences of trauma, whether emotional neglect, abuse, or abandonment. These formative years shape our self-worth, emotional regulation, and interpersonal dynamics.

The Question That Stopped Me
I remember the first time my supervisor asked me a question that stayed with me. We were reflecting on my work with clients, and he looked at me and said, “Katherine, what kind of relationship do you have with yourself?”

At first, I did not know how to answer. I had never been asked that question directly. It made me pause and reflect in a way that nothing else had. I realised that the way I viewed and treated myself shaped not only my own life but also how I showed up for others.

The Roots of Self-Perception
Research underscores the profound impact of childhood trauma on adult self-concept. A study published in Frontiers in Psychology highlights that individuals with a history of childhood trauma often develop a negative self-concept, which can make it difficult to form and maintain healthy relationships.

This negative self-view is not just about feeling “bad” about oneself. It is about internalising beliefs like “I am unworthy,” “I am unlovable,” or “I am broken.” These beliefs can manifest as people-pleasing, difficulty setting boundaries, or choosing partners who reinforce these patterns.

Why Old Patterns Keep Showing Up
Trauma does not only affect how we see ourselves. It influences how we engage with others. According to Psychology Today, people who grew up in abusive environments may normalise unhealthy behaviours like manipulation or volatility in adult relationships. Some may even be drawn to partners who echo their early caregivers, keeping the cycle alive.

Finding New Ways to Relate to Yourself
The good news is that healing is possible. By recognising the impact of early trauma on our relationship with ourselves, we can begin to rewrite our stories. Therapeutic approaches, such as Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), offer pathways to understanding and transforming these deep-seated beliefs.

For those with a history of trauma, EFT can help in naming and expressing vulnerable emotions, building secure bonds, and creating new possibilities for self and relationships.

A Gentle Invitation
If you find yourself caught in patterns that no longer serve you, whether in relationships, self-worth, or emotional regulation, know that you are not alone. Your past does not have to dictate your future. By nurturing a compassionate relationship with yourself, you can begin to heal and transform.

Sometimes all it takes is a question like the one my supervisor asked: What kind of relationship do you have with yourself? Reflecting on this can be the first step toward a more meaningful and fulfilling connection with yourself and others.

Reflection Prompt
Take a few quiet minutes today and ask yourself:

• How do I usually speak to myself?

• Do I treat myself with the same compassion I offer others?

• What kind of relationship do I want to build with myself moving forward?

Write down what comes up without judgement. Notice if there’s a small, gentle shift in how you see yourself.

Meeting the Shadow Within

We all carry parts of ourselves we prefer not to see, feelings, impulses, or traits we deny, suppress, or act as if they do not exist. In my work as a counsellor, I often meet clients who insist, “That is not me,” when confronted with patterns of self-doubt, avoidance, or overgiving. Carl Jung (1953) called these aspects the shadow, the parts of our personality we reject or disown. Shadow work, then, is not about eradicating these parts but about seeing, acknowledging, and integrating them.

I have faced my own shadow through therapy, supervision, dream analysis, peer feedback, and reflections sparked by clients. One dream stands out. I was standing on a high, narrow bridge. Below, the water roared, and a small, trembling version of myself clutched the railing, whispering, “You cannot do this. You are not enough.” At first, I tried to push that voice away, but the longer I stayed, the more I realised it was a part of me I had long ignored. That small, fearful self held truths I needed to acknowledge to grow.

The shadow carries more than fear, anger, or guilt. It also holds traits we admire but have not claimed, assertiveness, confidence, ambition. Often, these hidden parts show up as perfectionism, avoidance, or self-sabotage, quietly shaping our choices, emotions, and relationships even when we deny them.

Meeting the shadow begins with noticing discomfort, shame, or anger. Pause. Ask, “What is this part of me trying to tell me?” Through repeated reflection, curiosity, and self-compassion, we slowly integrate these hidden selves. The journey is ongoing, but each step brings more resilience, awareness, and wholeness.

The shadow is not a threat but a companion. By welcoming it, we grow braver, wiser, and more human.

Takeaway Invitation: Today, notice one part of yourself you usually avoid. Name it, observe it, and see what it can teach you.

Citation:
Jung, C. G. (1953). Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Volume 9 (Part 1): The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton University Press.