Author: gailbartlettharris

Boomerang Daffodils

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On a neglected table in my garden sat a rather ordinary black flower pot. Covered in the remnants of rainfall, leaves and a little green algae, it has lingered unobtrusively within sight but out of mind. It’s true that for many summer months I had forgotten what plant used to live there. I guessed that my wild bursts of green thumb enthusiasm (closely followed by serious lack of maintenance) had found another victim.

At one point I remember considering using the sombre reciprocal for a splash of live mint on my kitchen windowsill, but in a moment of unusual clarity I had considered my classic lack of follow through and decided against it. I had almost unceremoniously emptied the contents into the back of the compost bin. No! Who am I kidding? I almost tipped the contents under a bush at the back of one of the flower beds!

About two months ago (on a ‘let’s really look at what’s going on in the soggy garden’ walk) I noticed some little pointed leaves shooting through the soil. I didn’t know what they were but was happy something had survived.

Today the same little pot sits on the table right outside my lounge window. Almost a dozen bright, joyous miniature daffodils greet me every morning and every evening and many repeated moments through the day. When I look at them, they fill me with a complicated joy.

You see, these daffodils used to live in a green plastic pot with a ribbon around it and a plastic little sign that read ‘Happy Mother’s Day’. I can remember arriving at her door with them on a Mother’s Day morning and the look on her face when she saw them. At some point before her death last year, she must have asked me to store the bulbs for her.

They say that the love you give comes back to you. More than a year after her death, my mother offers my love back to me. When I see them, I am so happy I bought them for her, so happy that they gave her joy. I am bereft that she isn’t here to see them with me; that I can’t laugh with her about a forgotten little garden pot filled with algae and moss who sprung forth with a display deserving of a Chelsea Flower Show.

Theye are living sunshine, bittersweet beauty.

 I drink them in. I drink them in for her. I drink them in from her.

 “Look Mom…. Daffodils”

With Faithfulness

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by Julian Bartlett-Keates

I read something interesting the other day. Well I didn’t, really. I watched a youtube video.
It was about the nature of confidence. Confidence is something we see as an answer to so many things. It’s something we aspire to be. But what, really, is confidence? How does it look? Is confidence assertion, or acceptance? A boxer or a monk?


The video suggested that for advice on the nature of confidence we can look to the word itself. Fidence comes from the latin word fidelis, meaning “faithfulness”. Con is a latin prefix that can be taken as“with”.  We can read “Self Confidence” as “Self, with faithfulness”.

Something about that really resonated with me. Confidence really isn’t about being any specific way or thing. It’s about trust. Trusting yourself to be worthy of the world and the things in it.

Could this be about cultivating a relationship of trust between your current self and your future self and knowing that your current self will work to be better ? Could it be about trusting  your future self to appreciate and capitalize on that work? 

We need to feel assured that our future selves won’t throw away the things we are building today. We need to know that we’ve got this, both now and then.

What is it that you would like to be? Not an astronaut or a CEO. How does the best version of you look? Perhaps you’re kind. You always help others but sometimes can be a people pleaser and you wish that you could be more assertive. Rather than dream of being someone different, who speaks their mind and has their way and never gets pushed around, acknowledge the value of the seeds that you have to grow. What would that kindness look like in its best possible incarnation?


There are times we’d all like to be different. We’d all like to have different tools and capabilities and building materials. The world is full of monks who wish they were boxers and boxers who wish they were monks. What you have is enough.  Have an open-eyed look at what you really have to work with. With time, I suspect you’ll find it more than sufficient for the task at hand.

Final note to give credit where it’s due. I was introduced to this idea of self-faithfulness in a video by Dr. Thomas Smithyman on youtube.com. I found him to be clear, concise and genuine.

I will try to fix you

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Last time I looked, I didn’t own a magic wand! And, it’s true, there are times in my room I wish with all my heart that I had one.

Take the couple who have been together for 4 years and she discovers that her husband has changed his mind about wanting children. Or the couple who have spent 50 years together, only to discover there was an indiscretion about 5 years in. Perhaps it’s the wife who thought leaving her family in the UK whilst she started a family here wouldn’t worry her…only to find that it actually breaks her heart. Could be a child is seriously ill with little chance of recovery and this couple can’t face that together.

Yes. Sometimes I want a magic wand. I really really want a magic wand.

At times like these I settle back into the bigger questions about my practice.

What is my role?

In the midst of despair or journeys around corners heading into brick walls, the hardest part is to sit back and watch it happen. When, more than anything, I want the relationship in front of me to be ‘fixed’, to be warm and loving and offer both parties a soft place to fall, I am sometimes faced with the reality that none of that is going to happen.

People leave. People change. Life throws curve balls and sometimes things aren’t meant to be fixed. And for all the expertise that I have grown over all of these years and all the strategies, the goodwill, the rapport and connection…I am sometimes left with the fact that I can’t help to pull things together.

What I can do, is help couples understand their ‘whys’; help them accept with dignity, understanding and grace. Help them face what they never wanted to face and surprise themselves with the way they found their way through.

Yes – it’s true – I will try to ‘fix’ the relationships dynamics. I will try to inject some empathy and clarity and encourage experiential connection to happen right there in the room. To be honest, most of the time couples come through. Because getting in the door is already a step of dedication and sometimes……hidden somewhere deep in the conversation, we find the magic wand they had all along.

Load-Bearing Walls

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By Julian Bartlett-Keates

A Load-bearing wall is a structural element that supports the weight of what’s above it. It provides needed stability to an entire structure. When a load bearing wall is taken out, the structure becomes unstable. Sometimes this happens dramatically, a house imploding in on itself like some kind of tragic souffle. But often, instead, It happens gradually. Ceilings sag, doors no longer close or open properly. Eventually, there’s a collapse, but it happens slowly. Load-bearing walls are removed accidentally all the time, and often with far-reaching consequences.

Timothy is a busy man. He works 10-6 through the week and coaches childrens soccer on weekends. On Thursday nights, Timothy is home alone. His wife works an evening shift, and with no kids he has the house to himself. Well, himself and the dog. He watches movies, he listens to music. He plays video games he used to be better at. For the past three Thursdays, he’s been trying to teach the dog to bark when it hears the Yellowstone Intro. And when Timothy’s wife gets home at 10.30pm he meets her at the door and tells her he missed her. And he does miss her. She’s his favourite person. Don’t tell the dog. When her work schedule shifts he greets the increased quality time with optimism. His wife has been wanting them to watch Yellowstone so they start watching three episodes on a Thursday night. Besides the constant barking, he doesn’t mind it.

A few weeks in, something strange happens. Timothy snaps at a co-worker. They’re late. Always. And frankly it’s always annoyed him, but this is really the first time he’s actually snapped. He notices he has a lot on his mind, and starts finding it harder to sleep. He’s never wanted to take a day off so badly. He notices himself getting frustrated with break room conversations, grocery trips and even, at times, with relatively innocuous things that his wife says. She brings it up. He doesn’t know what to say. They argue. He feels worn out. Really worn out. He feels like he can’t seem to find a second anywhere to breathe. I can take this in any number of dramatic and shocking directions, but I think you probably see where I’m going with this one. Timothy took out a load-bearing wall in his life.

If things feel important, even if you don’t have the words to justify why, it’s worth looking into why they feel important. And if you’re noticing sagging ceilings, and doors that stick, maybe it’s worth really considering the things you need in place to hold up everything above.

Where’s your Aim?

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In a recent session, I sat back in my chair and let it all unfold. I let it run. I disregarded the pure fruitlessness of their discussion and, dare I say, the impending damage. Sometimes this is a time that I can gain valuable insight into what’s happening at home. I will often ask that very question when I pause them,

“Is this how things usually unfold at home?”

In a recent guest post that I published by Julian Bartlett-Keates, he suggested that humans often prefer to be right more than to be effective and sadly he’s right.

In order to be effective we need a goal. If we have a goal we can better aim and modify. I think most couples go into discussions believing that the goal is to negotiate some of their needs or share some of their opinions. But I wonder how different any discussion might be, if the goal were consistently aimed at, and for, the relationship first?

If we think about what kind of relationship we long for we might come up with things like: I want her to feel safe, I want him to feel admired, I want her to know that I’m always on her side, I want him to know I never want to do life without him, I want my partner to know that through good time and bad that I am the safe harbor, I want to feel close, I want to feel accepted.

I wonder…….how ‘effective’ communication could be if the goal was – relationship first?

What if the goal wasn’t focused on the next few minutes but rather focused on the next 20 years? What if the preferred outcome of every discussion was to add weight to the anchor of our relationship What if (even through difficult discussion) we were able to help our partner feel more loved and heard.

How effective could that be?

Where’s your aim?

Effective Communication

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By Julian Bartlett-Keates

“I believe one of the greatest human failings is to prefer to be right than to be effective”
This is a quote from Stephen Fry, someone I admire quite considerably. I believe it’s true. I’m guilty of it myself. I think many can relate to the experience of being so pulled into an argument that whether it’s a useful expenditure of your time and energy goes completely out of the window. Perhaps an internet argument. Perhaps Jenny from New Plymouth implied on one of your marketplace listings that you’re a bad pet owner and she can’t possibly be allowed to get away with it. The same thing can happen in relationships. Sometimes it can be valuable to make sure we’re aiming for the right thing. Am I trying to be right, or am I trying to be effective? Are we having the same conversations? Where will those conversations get us? Life is hard, and we all get tired. Trying something new takes energy we don’t always feel like we have. But new habits and new conversations lead to different results. And a lot of us could use some different results. So if we feel like we’re circling the drain of the same argument or disagreement that we’ve had a million times, let’s think about the conversations we’re not having

Affairs and Relationship Recovery

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Don’t believe all the hype. No really! Don’t.

It never fails to amaze me how many ‘relationship’ and modern day ‘moral’ experts there are out there. Especially on social media. As a generality, if you have a spouse who has strayed, our society does not support staying in that relationship. Facebook warriors and well meaning Aunts proclaim that you are – quote : Worth more. You would think that the transgression had been yours (not your spouse’s) because the peer and societal weight of shame leveled at you if you stay, can be immense.

Affairs can have a devastating effect on relationships. They can also provide a platform for communication that is more transparent and honest than many relationships can only dream of.

I believe that leaving a relationship after an affair is brave. I believe that staying is braver. It could be that recovery is not possible. It could also be that the relationship is born anew; stronger, closer, more real, more committed and with higher levels of intimacy.

There are stages to it’s recovery, and getting through the crisis stage is not for the faint-hearted. But the rewards can be worth the journey.

As Esther Perel says in her book ‘The State of Affairs’, we expect so very much of our relationships now. Just listen to some modern vows and the promises we make! We promise to satisfy our spouses every need. And we expect the same in return. We expect our partner to be stable but to offer excitement, be practical but connect with us spiritually. They should be our best friend, our confidante, our financial security, our mind reader. They should be emotionally intelligent and know how to respond to us emotionally at any moment of the day. They should feel comfortable and un-demanding but be able to stimulate us intellectually. They should accept us in our fluffy pajamas but still want to approach us with ‘rip your clothes off passion’! It’s little wonder that relationships can feel under par or lifeless and we, or our partners can feel not good enough.

Relationships benefit from a dose of reality. If we work hard and keep communication strong, we can work our way through the toughest differences and disappointments. Once the initial shock and flight or fight responses subside, an affair can help bring us back to ground zero, where we can work out what it is we both want and …how possible that is……and what we are both prepared to do to get the relationship there. It affords opportunity for thoughts that were previously in the shadows to come out in the light, where they can be considered and heard.

Don’t listen to the hype. Staying might not always be the right choice – but when it is – its brave and can reap big rewards.

Of Death, Step-Parents, Displaced Parents and Blends.

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As I sit to write this I can feel that sense of ‘do you have a right?’ sitting in the far reaches of the right side of my head. Crazy right? I’m a counsellor; feelings just are. But it really, really, really is never that simple. (Lots of ‘reallys’ and I meant every one).

You would gather that parts of me are in this story. And parts are clients. And parts are family – in all it’s forms.

When we think of step parents and blended families our mind goes to the two ‘parents’ in a home with children. But there are many far reaching effects of blended families for years to come . This short post is about one seldom thought of.

Imagine you have a step-dad from the age of 4 until you are 19 (when he leaves and starts another family). And imagine you are older and it is some 30-40 years later and he dies. My question is – what is your allocation of ‘ the right to grieve’?

If it’s your Mum or your Dad, your allocation of the right to grieve is obvious; it is not questioned. Or at least it’s not questioned if your Mum and Dad are still together.

If it is your step parent (and your parents stayed together until that step parent died) then a little nudge for allocation might be needed – like ‘He was my Dad from when I was 11 to now’. And Voila! – its kind of explainable and your grief is recognized; some may even say – understood.

But if your Step Dad or your Dad went on to have a whole new family the displacement is surreal. Funerals are organized by his ‘now family. And you watch the forward motion of social grief, with all it’s condolences and photographs and memories, steadfastly roll forward with little or no recognition of the 10 or 15 years of his life that you were pivotal in.

This displacement comes up in lots of situations but sadly (and understandably) those at the front of the line in the ‘right to grieve’ are tied up in their own grief – they may even feel they have more ownership of that grief.

So spare a thought for the son in law who only came on the scene 10 years ago when the rest of the family have been around for 40 years and gets none of the ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’…. Or for the daughter who sits at her fathers funeral, where she knows no-one and listens to stories all about her fathers new life and nothing about herself in his old.

If you are lucky – someone in their new life lets you in….just a little. It doesn’t stop the feeling of displacement. It doesn’t stop the questions about the ‘right to grieve’. But it helps.

Look around at Funerals. It takes nothing away from you to acknowledge those left holding she shortest ‘right to grieve’ straw.

Goodbye Dad

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On a morning walk during the last school holidays, I had the opportunity to see suburbia in its early buzz. And most of what I saw was good. Some pretty gardens with happy flowers, teddy bears still peeking out of a few windows, people coming out to check the mailbox and waving hello. But I also saw something but made me feel sad. Three SUVs pulling up at separate curbs – their engines humming outside nicely groomed houses. None of the driver’s turned their engines off. Only one of the drivers got out of this car. No-one was waiting on the curb or came out to greet them. And overflowing out of the passenger doors …children, all of them around school age carrying little cases or backpacks shouting… “Goodbye Dad”… several of them running back to try to give a final hug.

These were not children being dropped off for a weekend sleepover with a friend. These children were most likely being dropped off between a separated Mum and Dad. How did I know? A number of things were obvious like the cases on their back (and several other items dragged from the car) but also the tone of the goodbye to Dad was not the kind that says I will see you later in the day.

We are bringing up generations of children who’s normal is being split between homes with different rules and different atmospheres. Not for them any cozy Friday night movie nights with Mum and Dad together making the world secure.

I felt sad. Mainly I felt sad because I knew how torn most of these children would be feeling and that it was most likely that at times they were forced to choose out loud or in their own head which of their parents was the most reliable or lovable; children growing up too soon.

I believe relationships can thrive. I believe in the power of commitment hard work and at times professional intervention to facilitate a way through. And I believe that even if couples choose not to stay together there is still the ability to role model what respectful and caring relationships look like in the face of separation. And that would include – Dads getting out of their cars and Mums coming out on the curb to greet the arrival. When children step out of that car they step onto the wobbly bridge that spans no mans land. The least parents can do is swallow their own hurts/pride/anger/indifference and hold their children’s hand until they get to the other side.

Shiloh 7 – Ethereal Cocooning

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It seems at the moment my favourite time of day is a walk with Shiloh at the dog park. Having said that, sometimes I still need to convince myself to go. I liken that to drinking a green smoothie or doing some meditation ; you know it’s good for you and you know you will be glad you did it – hey – you may even really enjoy it BUT you still need some convincing to start. Such is the constant battle of making self care a priority.

When it’s walk time and its just Shiloh and me, there is the beginning of something wonderful; Shiloh is becoming my sunny shadow. Whilst it’s true he is more independent (not quite the fragile puppy that he was) the irony is that he is more dependant on me in a different way. Before he was unconsciously dependant. Now he is consciously so. He looks around to see where I am and doubles back when he goes too far. And he does this adorable thing…. When he wanders off far in search of a doggy interaction  I open my arms and say

‘Shiloh come”.

He turns on his heel and races back to me.  Perhaps, it is only those who have experienced a loved dog sprinting with total abandon back towards them who can fully appreciate how wonderful it feels.

Shiloh’s love spills over.

Shiloh has opened up a whole world for me personally. Not only has he offered me the opportunity to meet other likeminded dog owners, he has encouraged me out of my four walls and into the wide open spaces of Linklater Reserve. I discover that having a dog is a natural ice breaker – and every dog owner relishes opportunity to speak about their dog! (including me)

There have been times I have wondered if getting Shiloh had been a good idea. The work involved has been immense and I have felt the responsibility of being a good dog owner more than I thought I would.

Whilst I have learned much about dogs……… my biggest learning is about myself.

When Shiloh was only 4 months old  I felt the loss of being alone. I wondered what I had done. I was afraid I had made an error of judgement and that the lone walks I so relished were over. And then – within 6 weeks of those worried thoughts, Shiloh became my little shadow of sunshine.

He didn’t need watching and attending to as much (his recall is superb! – just sayin!). And suddenly I could feel alone but not alone. I could feel ‘in my thoughts’ but ‘with’ Shiloh. Suddenly that warm little shadow was encompassing comfort; ethereal cocooning. Alone but not alone. Two but one. A merging somehow of the comfort we felt in each other.

Me and Shiloh. Shiloh and me.

Shiloh may be a way off being a Therapy dog yet – but he is therapy indeed for this counsellor.

Shiloh 6 – Clean Laundry

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I knew that Shiloh had retriever in his blood. But I didn’t fully appreciate the impact of his ancestors.

At first it was cute (and to be honest it mostly still is). He is BORN to retrieve.

Socks, long ago given up on, appear in the middle of the sitting room. Plastic bottles not quite closed into the bin lay strewn in no longer ‘recyclable’ chunks across the lawn. Dressing gown robe ties are picked up muddy and soggy in the middle of the flower bed. The ceramic cats bowl lies upside down on the deck. Don’t even get me started on shoes.

I have lost count of the number of propeller pencils (my preferred way of noting in my diary) that I have retrieved (chewed, mangled and half buried in my garden). And I have almost had to go into overdraft to keep up my supply of erasers. My new prescription glasses (in the expensive frames I had been promising myself for about 2 years) were gently removed from Shiloh’s fair jaw when a crunching sound alerted us. Shiloh was fine. The glasses were not.

Now I know what you are thinking. Where are the rules? Where is the discipline? And how on earth does he GET half this stuff. Well let’s just leave your question there because I promise you…we try.

All of these antics are a mixture of annoying, horrifying and adorable (not in that order). But he’s so proud – so very very trotting, happily, proud every time he manages to retrieve something. And also, Shiloh is teaching me things. For instance : he’s teaching me to be tidier

One morning, I was approaching the top of the stairs when I saw a pair of my knickers on the top stair. Quelle horreur!

Now I know what you are thinking and it’s something to do with a late night and a bottle of wine. But NO! You would be wrong. It had more to do with the fact that my underwear drawer is the bottom drawer of my dresser and I have a habit of not closing it properly.

You would think that one incident of such nature was enough to forevermore teach me to close my dresser drawers properly – but NO – I needed another incident and this one’s a goody.

You see we are currently doing a renovation and have builders onsite. And these said builders were treated to the view of me racing across the lawn in my dressing gown, desperately trying to retrieve my best lace underwire bra from one adorable, fluffy, one of a kind. retriever labradoodle. It took a while! They could probably describe the item in detail to their wives.

Better work stories am I right?

Shiloh 5 – We’re all going on a summer holiday

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With six days of sun and sand to look forward to, we are packed to the hilt. Anyone would think we had a newborn. We have a pile of towels, cotton bedcover, night time enclosure, dog bed, treats, meals, dog shampoo (and conditioner!) de-matting combs, water bottles and favourite toys. So, with a sense of new and adventure we head off.

About 20 minutes down the road and Shiloh‘s chin is dripping and he’s looking anxious. We close the back window and turn up the air con. After a little while it occurs to me he might be car sick. I turn to check on him and see him purposefully stand. In the nick of time, I manage to catch the proceeds of his breakfast in a towel (twisting a muscle in my neck at the same time but I guess that’s besides the point, at least my husband’s leather seats were spared right?!).

Poor car sick Shiloh. I climb into the back seat with him and firm up his little body against every bend in the road (further aggravating my neck) and after some time manage to prop his head up with the remaining clean towels.

By the time we reach Waitara he is feeling a little better. We unpack and settle in.

We have six days ahead. Six days of beach and sand. Shiloh encourages me to lie on the cool grass and watch the sky.. Jackson Browne plays in my head. Or should I say Jackson Browne tries to play in my head. Shiloh was pretty interruptive.

‘Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down……….

Keep a fire for the human race
And let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming down……………….

Perhaps a better world is drawing near…….
Just as easily, it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found………….
Don’t let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make……… a joyful sound’

Shiloh does help me make a joyful sound – it’s so true. But I have to admit that he is extremely interruptive and  going on holiday with a 6 month old pup is hard work.  We are up early each day to let him out. He gets an upset tummy on day three requiring fast track 4am walks to the park because he refuses to go on the grass nearby. It also meant that two of the 5 nights there were spent cooking chicken and rice………for the dog! (Instead of our usual dinners out. Shiloh loved (LOVED) the beach. And what he loved (LOVED) most about the beach was digging……..so walks to the beach ended with a very smelly, sandy and wet dog needing a hose down and a towel dry (and blow dry – he IS a labradoodle !) And of course our last day was getting to a vet for advice on our car sick pup. We didn’t fancy a repeat of the leather seat rescue.

Where, I wondered were the isolated walks along a beautiful beach with nothing to explore but Jackson Browne lyrics or the deep recesses of my mind? Or the hours spent watching the tide go out and hours collecting shells or writing messages in the sand? Shiloh was always there and up to something.He needed constant looking out for and I began to feel that the mental space I had longed for could not be had = with a dog in tow.

Is this the way it is? Have I lost the aloneness I value?

Arriving home (with a crick in the neck – steadying Shiloh in the back seat) I didn’t feel particularly rested.

 I am again struck by the ‘okayness’ of feeling conflicted. Our summer holiday was still sun and sea and Shiloh is just so lovable – but I wonder about the tradeoffs I have unwittingly agreed to?