Reading for the Month

Ah, January. The month of fresh starts, ambitious resolutions, and gym memberships that mysteriously fade by February. We tell ourselves this is the year we’ll finally sort it all out. But before reinventing your entire existence, here’s a thought: what if the real win is simply getting to know yourself a bit better?

Self-awareness isn’t exactly glamorous. It won’t come with a shiny Instagram post or a smug “5am club” routine. But it will help you set realistic goals, build healthier relationships, and, crucially, stick with things longer than a week.

To understand this, it helps to think of yourself as having three “versions” (no software update required):

• The I-Self: how you see yourself, shaped by your experiences, values, and inner commentary.
• The Me-Self: how others see you, based on your interactions (sometimes alarmingly accurate).
• The Ideal-Self: the aspirational version, the one who drinks enough water and doesn’t ignore emails.

When these three are out of sync, life can feel like wearing someone else’s shoes, tight in odd places and never quite right. But noticing the gaps (without giving yourself a harsh internal lecture) is where things begin to shift.

Because knowing yourself isn’t indulgent, it’s practical. It helps you recognise your strengths, own your limitations, and make decisions that actually suit you. Revolutionary, I know.

So, how do you actually get to know yourself without disappearing to a mountain retreat? A few simple (and realistic) ways to start:

• Pause and notice your reactions: When something annoys, excites, or drains you, pay attention. Your reactions are little clues about what matters to you.
• Ask yourself honest questions: Not “What should I be doing?” but “What do I actually want?” Slightly uncomfortable, but very revealing.
• Reflect, briefly and often: A few minutes at the end of the day: what went well? What didn’t? Why? No need for a leather-bound journal (unless you fancy it).
• Notice patterns, not perfection: You don’t need to “fix” everything. Just start spotting habits like where you thrive, and where you quietly struggle.
• Get feedback (brace yourself): Ask someone you trust how they experience you. It might sting slightly but it’s often where the gold is.
• Be a bit kinder to yourself: Self-awareness works best without a running commentary of criticism. You’re learning, not auditioning.

So, as 2026 begins, perhaps the goal isn’t to become a completely new person. Perhaps it’s to become a more honest version of the one you already are. Because once you understand yourself, you’re far less likely to chase goals you secretly dread, and far more likely to build a life that actually fits.

And really, that’s a much better use of January than pretending you enjoy kale smoothies.

Let’s clear something up early: not every intense, messy, or slightly chaotic relationship is a trauma bond. I know that’s not nearly as catchy. But it is more accurate.

“Trauma bonding” has become one of those pop psychology terms that gets thrown around whenever a relationship feels hard to leave. Partner didn’t text back, trauma bond. Argued over whose turn it is to do the bins? Definitely trauma bond. Except… not quite.

Originally, trauma bonding refers to a strong emotional attachment formed through cycles of harm and intermittent reward. In simpler terms: when someone hurts you, then comforts you, then hurts you again, and your brain gets hooked on the relief that follows the pain. It’s less about drama and more about pattern.

Think of it like this: if kindness and cruelty are mixed unpredictably, your brain starts working overtime trying to “win back” the good moments. You don’t just stay because you love them; you stay because you’re waiting for them to be the version of themselves you know exists.

And that’s where the confusion creeps in. Not all difficult relationships are trauma bonds. Relationships can be:

• unhealthy (poor communication, emotional immaturity)
• stressful (life pressures, mismatched needs)
• or simply… not right

A trauma bond, however, usually involves a power imbalance, emotional manipulation, and a repeating cycle that keeps you psychologically tied in even when part of you knows something’s off.

So why is it so hard to spot? Because it doesn’t feel like a “bond” built on trauma. It can feel like:

• intense loyalty
• deep attachment
• hope that things will improve
• or even responsibility for the other person

All very human. All very understandable.

And here’s the tricky bit: trauma bonding doesn’t just show up in romantic relationships. It can appear in friendships, families, even workplaces, anywhere that cycle of harm and reward quietly repeats.

So, what’s the takeaway (without turning this into a full therapy session)? If a relationship feels confusing, draining, or oddly addictive, it’s worth pausing and asking:

• Do things change, or just cycle?
• Am I staying for what is, or what I hope it will be?
• Do I feel more settled or more on edge?

No dramatic labels required. Just curiosity.

Because understanding your relationships properly, not just via a trending term, is far more useful than diagnosing everything as a trauma bond. And frankly, a lot less exhausting too.

Mother’s Day: flowers, cards, and the quiet pressure to prove you’re either a perfect mum… or have one. But let’s gently challenge a long-standing idea: that a child’s emotional world rests entirely on their mother’s shoulders.

Enter attachment theory. Originally developed to understand how early relationships shape our sense of safety, it’s often been simplified (or oversimplified) into: “Mum got it right” or “Mum got it wrong.” Which, frankly, is a bit unfair and not entirely accurate.

Attachment is about how we learn to feel safe, soothed, and understood. Yes, primary caregivers matter, but that doesn’t mean it’s a one-person job. Children are shaped by a whole cast of characters:

• fathers, grandparents, foster carers
• teachers, siblings, even that one neighbour who always had biscuits

In other words, it takes more than one adult to shape a child’s sense of the world. A relief, really.

We also forget that attachment isn’t about perfection. It’s about being “good enough”, i.e., showing up, repairing when things go wrong, and being emotionally available most of the time. Not all. (No one survives toddlerhood with a perfect record.)

So, what does secure attachment actually look like in everyday life?

• A child feels safe enough to explore, but comes back when needed
• Emotions are noticed and responded to (even if imperfectly)
• Ruptures happen but are repaired (“I got that wrong, let’s try again”)

Not exactly Instagram content, but far more realistic.

And here’s the important bit: if things weren’t perfect growing up, that doesn’t mean the story is set in stone. Relationships throughout life, friends, partners, mentors, can reshape how we experience connection and trust.

So, this Mother’s Day, perhaps we ease off the pressure. For mums: you don’t have to be flawless to matter enormously. For everyone else: you may have played a bigger role than you realise.

Because attachment isn’t built on one perfect person, it’s built on enough moments of care, from enough people, over time. And honestly, that’s a far kinder and far more human way to look at it.

We all have a version of ourselves we’d rather not put on display. The impatient one. The jealous one. The one who said that thing in 2014 and still thinks about it at 2am.

This is what people sometimes call the “shadow”, the parts of us we’d rather ignore, hide, or firmly deny exist. Unfortunately, pretending they’re not there doesn’t make them disappear. It just gives them more room to quietly run the show. Add in a bit of shame (“there’s something wrong with me”) and guilt (“I did something wrong”), and suddenly we’re not just human; we’re harshly self-critical humans.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: you don’t become a better person by rejecting parts of yourself. You become a more grounded one by understanding them.

Now, before you panic, this isn’t about excusing bad behaviour or declaring “this is just who I am.” It’s about recognising that you can hold both: the parts of you you’re proud of, and the parts that need a bit of work. At the same time. Revolutionary, really.

Because when we stop fighting ourselves, we free up a surprising amount of energy to actually change.

So, how do you start making peace with your shadow without turning it into a full-blown identity crisis? A few practical (and manageable) ways:

• Name it, don’t shame it: Notice what comes up, e.g., anger, envy, defensiveness, without immediately labelling yourself as “bad.” It’s information, not a verdict.
• Separate behaviour from identity: “I made a mistake” is far more useful than “I am a mistake.” One invites growth; the other just invites misery.
• Get curious, not critical: Ask, where did this come from? What was I needing in that moment? Often, even the least charming behaviours have a story.
• Practise self-compassion (yes, really): Speak to yourself the way you would a friend. You wouldn’t tell them they’re a disaster over one mistake, so maybe don’t do it to yourself either.
• Take responsibility, gently: Owning your actions doesn’t require self-destruction. You can acknowledge harm and believe you’re capable of doing better.
• Allow both good and bad to coexist: You are not one thing. You’re a mix, like most people, just with better snacks.

Coming to terms with your shadow isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming whole. And while that might not make for a glamorous transformation, it does make for a far more honest, and surprisingly lighter, way to live.

Let’s start with a truth we don’t always like to admit: mental health isn’t just about feeling a bit off after a poor night’s sleep or a soggy commute. Mental illness is real, medically recognised, and, much like a dodgy knee or persistent migraine, can significantly affect how we think, feel, and relate to others.

Not that long ago (in historical terms), we hadn’t quite got the memo. Before the late 19th century, behaviours we now understand as mental health conditions were often blamed on supernatural forces. Yes, what we might now call anxiety or depression could once have earned you a reputation for being “possessed.”

Thankfully, science stepped in. Pioneers like Freud, Jung, Watson, and Bandura began unpicking the mysteries of the mind, offering theories and interventions that shaped modern psychology. And yet, despite all this progress, stigma has stubbornly lingered, like that one relative who overstays at Christmas. Many still hesitate to seek help, worried about judgment rather than relief.

So, what actually causes mental illness? The answer isn’t neat or simple (wouldn’t that be nice?). It’s usually a blend of factors:

• Biological: Brain chemistry and hormones can go off balance, no user manual provided.
• Genetic: If it runs in the family, your chances may be higher.
• Psychological & social: Life experiences matter: trauma, poverty, unsafe environments, caregiving stress, or major upheavals like war.

In short, it’s not about weakness or “just snapping out of it.” If only it were that easy.

Now for the hopeful bit: mental wellness isn’t some mystical state reserved for yoga retreats and people who own matching Tupperware. It’s something we can actively nurture, often through surprisingly ordinary things:

• Move your body: You don’t need to become a marathon runner; even a brisk walk counts.
• Eat reasonably well: Your brain rather likes being fuelled properly.
• Manage stress: Easier said than done, but essential, as chronic stress is no friend to mind or body.
• Shift perspective: Not toxic positivity, but a willingness to notice what’s going right.
• Find meaning: Whether through faith, spirituality, or purpose, humans do better with a sense of “why.”
• Stay connected: Even a quick chat can remind you you’re not alone.

Perhaps the real question isn’t “Do I have good mental health?” but “How am I looking after it?” Because much like brushing your teeth, ignoring it tends to come back to bite you.

SCoPEd is a shared framework developed by six professional bodies. It maps core training, practice and competence for counsellors and psychotherapists working with adults. Think of the columns as a map: A is the foundation, B reflects further development, and C is advanced training, experience and competence. They are not grades for human worth, therapeutic warmth or tea-making ability.

For BACP members, Registered aligns with A, Accredited with B, and Senior Accredited with C. Other bodies have their own routes, so check their guidance before making decisions.

For trainees, there is no need to panic-buy every CPD course advertised before breakfast. Complete your training, develop safe practice, engage with supervision, and ask how your qualification connects with professional-body requirements. For BACP students, alignment comes after qualification and joining the Register. Your task is learning well, not becoming Column C by Tuesday.

For qualified practitioners, your existing training, knowledge and experience do not suddenly evaporate. Progression is available if you want it, but it is not an emergency or a measure of your value. Map what you bring, identify development goals, and choose CPD, training, reflective practice and supervision that genuinely strengthen your work. Collecting certificates like Pokémon is not the same as developing competence.

For supervisors, SCoPEd can be a compass rather than a ruler. Use it to explore scope of practice, ethics, risk, knowledge, self-awareness and growth. It should support a reflective conversation, not turn supervision into an inspection.

If the changes create anxiety, that makes sense. Professional identity rarely enjoys a surprise seating plan. Pause, check your professional body’s guidance, speak with your supervisor or tutor, and take one realistic step at a time. A, B and C are labels intended to bring clarity, not verdicts on your humanity.

Good therapy remains relational, ethical and grounded in the person sitting in front of us. A framework can describe our development; it cannot do the therapeutic work for us. Thankfully, it has not yet learned to make the tea either.

The foundations and front door are the working alliance: contract, purpose, consent, boundaries and how we work. The door welcomes, but it is not a drawbridge lowered when someone forgets an appointment.

The hallway is the transferential/countertransferential relationship. Old relational expectations may wander in. A client may experience the therapist through earlier relationships; the therapist may feel protective, irritated or rescuing. These feelings are not instructions; pause, reflect and use supervision.

The spare room represents the reparative or developmentally-needed relationship. Therapy may offer a good-enough experience of safety, consistency and support where something was missing. This is not becoming a substitute parent or handing out emotional biscuits indefinitely; it is offering what is needed within boundaries while supporting self-trust.

The kitchen table and open windows suggest the person-to-person relationship: two humans meeting with authenticity, empathy and respect. The therapist is not a talking appliance; the client is not a quick service visit. There is room for humour, honesty and repair.

The attic or skylight symbolises the transpersonal relationship: meaning, depth, spirituality, awe or mystery. No incense is compulsory; the skylight may stay closed if it is not part of the client’s world.

The fixtures keep the house liveable: heating offers warmth and containment; lights represent awareness; the smoke alarm signals risk and ethics; the fuse box marks boundaries; plumbing represents communication and repair. If something keeps tripping, investigate rather than blame the carpet.

Clarkson’s framework is not a five-stage house tour or estate-agent checklist. All rooms may be present; one comes into focus in the moment. Notice which room needs attention, whether a boundary is too open or closed, and what might make the relationship safe enough.

The aim is not a perfect house, but a flexible, jointly cared-for space where the client owns their life and the therapist offers companionship, skill and attention. If we are rearranging the furniture alone, supervision is calling.

The 2018 Framework remains current until midday on Tuesday 3 November 2026; after that, the 2026 Framework becomes mandatory. There is time to become familiar with it, no need to sprint towards it carrying a highlighter and packed lunch.

What has changed? Familiar material is organised into three sections: A, working ethically within relationships; B, ethical principles; and C, core responsibilities. This is more than a tidy re-shuffle. We are asked to think ethically across all professional relationships, not only with clients, but also supervisees, trainees, colleagues, organisations, BACP and the public, and explain the reasoning behind significant decisions.

Collaboration, fairness, equality, anti-oppressive practice, digital and AI risks, legal duties, safety, boundaries, candour and wellbeing are clearer. In short, less “Which paragraph do I quote?” and more “How did I think this through?”

For trainees, there is no need to rewrite your professional identity in highlighter. Read gradually, discuss scenarios in class, practise short ethical rationales, and bring uncertainty to supervision. Review contracts, confidentiality, records, safeguarding and digital arrangements. You are not expected to know everything before meeting your first client; notice, ask and learn.

For practitioners, become familiar with the three sections. Review working agreements, privacy information, online practice and AI use. Keep legal, safeguarding and professional knowledge current, and record reasons for important decisions, not every passing thought.

For supervisors and tutors, the framework is a relational conversation, not a clipboard. Help learners explore the ethical issue, who may be affected, relevant power and risk, possible options, the decision made and what was learnt. Model curiosity, thoughtful challenge and support.

BACP is providing Ethics Essentials videos, FAQs and further resources in accessible formats. Tutors and supervisors can translate the language into real practice. If you feel behind, remember: asking questions is already a sound ethical habit. Even a sat-nav says, “recalculating.”

The 2026 Framework is not a perfection badge. It is a living compass. Take one section, one conversation and one reflective step at a time.