Find Your More: The Blog - More Love, More Resilience

Self-care is often associated with bubble baths, candles and other pleasant treats. But real self-care goes much deeper than that. It means learning to respond to yourself in ways that support you now, rather than relying on old strategies of self-protection that may have developed in childhood. For ex-boarders in particular, self-protection may have meant learning not to need, feel, ask or depend on others. As adults, those same strategies can show up as avoidance, people-pleasing, shutting down, poor boundaries or pushing ourselves beyond our limits. Moving towards self-care involves self-compassion, recognising our needs, setting boundaries, allowing ourselves to rest and learning to regulate our nervous systems. It can also mean tolerating the discomfort of doing things differently. The question is: are the strategies that once kept you safe now getting in the way of taking care of yourself?

Some people, especially ex-boarders, are a bit like oysters. When they feel threatened, they shut down fast, and the harder their partner pushes them to open up, the more firmly they retreat behind their walls. In this post, I look at why attempts to get a shut-down partner talking can so easily backfire. Many of the strategies we use can make someone feel less safe. A better approach is to be more like the sun in Aesop’s fable. Instead of trying to force openness, you create the conditions that make it possible by helping them feel safer. Opening up may still feel frightening for someone who has spent a lifetime protecting themselves, but safety gives them somewhere to begin.

Do you find yourself having the same argument with your partner over and over again? You may be caught in a repeating relationship pattern known as ‘the-more-the-more’. The more one person pursues, criticises, withdraws or protests, the more the other responds with their own protective reaction. Before long, both people are triggering exactly the behaviour they least want from each other. Beneath these patterns is often something deeper: two people trying to feel safe, each using strategies learned much earlier in life. In this post, I explore how these loops develop, why they can become so entrenched, and what can help you begin to step out of them. I also look at how understanding the childhood roots of our reactions can create more compassion, more choice and a very different way of relating to each other.

When we’ve been hurt in the past, whether by a parent, a former partner or our current one, we often start to expect more of the same. The brain is a kind of prediction machine, and because it has a negativity bias, it tends to notice signs that confirm what we already fear. In relationships, this can create a self-fulfilling prophecy. We expect disappointment, criticism or distance, and then react to that expectation rather than to what is actually happening. Our partner responds to our tone, defensiveness or withdrawal, and their reaction then feels like proof that we were right all along. In this post, I explore how these loops develop between partners, why they can be so hard to spot from the inside, and how curiosity can begin to interrupt the pattern.

We all tell ourselves stories. Most of the time we don't even realise we're doing it. When there are gaps in the information, our brains naturally fill them. It's one of the ways they reduce uncertainty and help the world feel more predictable. The difficulty is that the stories we create aren't always true. They're shaped by our past experiences, our relationships and beliefs from our childhood. In this week's blog, I explore how a family conversation at my partner's sister's 80th birthday revealed just how easily we can spend decades believing a story that isn't quite right. I also look at how the same process plays out in our relationships today, influencing the way we interpret our partner's behaviour and sometimes creating conflict where none was intended. The good news is that we don't have to believe every story our minds produce. Sometimes asking, "What else might be true?" is enough to open the door to a different perspective.

What if overwhelm isn't just about having too much to do? We often assume that overwhelm comes from the demands of work, family or the wider world. Sometimes it does. But what if it also has something to do with what's happening inside us? Our current state, and our nervous system's sense of safety, both influence how much we can cope with. That's why the same situation can feel manageable one day and impossible the next. Rather than asking "How do I get through all of this?" perhaps a more helpful question is, "What is my nervous system trying to protect me from?" In this week's newsletter I explore overwhelm from the inside out and why understanding your response can open up more choice. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

When relationships become stuck, it's tempting to search for the next communication technique, self-help book or expert with the perfect answer. But lasting change rarely comes from a magic bullet. It grows from the way two people learn to understand each other and create solutions that fit their unique relationship. In this article, I share a simple seven-step framework for repairing dysfunctional relationship patterns, explain why curiosity and compassion matter more than blame, and introduce the idea of the "magic apple tree": the relational wisdom that develops when couples work together to create their own ways of staying connected. Outside tools can provide a helpful starting point, but the strongest relationships are built on the creativity, trust and collaboration that emerge from within the relationship itself.

Many of us wear protective "masks" or personae - a survival strategy usually created in childhood or in response to hostile environments like boarding school - to keep us safe from pain and disapproval. However, these masks can create a state of disconnection from our true selves. Authenticity requires the courage to peel back these layers, in spite of our fear of what others will think. True self-acceptance means honouring the masks for how they once served us, rather than rejecting them. Ultimately, beneath these protective patterns lies your true, unshakeable core. If you are ready to safely let go of a mask that no longer serves you, reach out today.

In this post, I explore the psychological impact of a boarding school education, particularly how the neglect - in fact the repression - of the emotional self forces children to develop a "Strategic Survival Personality." While this adaptation helps children cope with family separation and institutional life - often through dissociation or fierce independence - it severely hinders adult relationships by creating a fear of intimacy, poor emotional regulation and an inability to trust others. I share my personal journey of overcoming this trauma by dismantling my "victim" mindset. Ultimately, I emphasise that personality is adaptable; with support or self-reflection, we can heal, consciously recreate our character, and move from survival to healthy, interdependent relationships.

If you're in a relationship with a man who went to boarding school, you may find yourself wondering why he seems to shut down just when you need him most. The answer usually comes down to one thing: safety. In this post I share the relationship patterns I most commonly see in ex-boarders, why the instinct to push for more connection so often backfires, and a practical seven-step plan for creating the conditions in which he can gradually open up. This is a slow process, and it isn't a linear one. But with patience, curiosity, and compassion, change is possible.

What happened when you arrived at boarding school the very first time? That first hour at school might be seared into your memory or you may not have any memory of it at all. But there was a moment when you said goodbye to your parents and became a ‘boarding school child’. The child who had to grow up quickly and learn to look after herself. In those first days, boarding school was a steep learning curve. There was no room for that Innocent Child. The only way to survive was to create a new persona – someone with no vulnerability, no feelings, no needs.

For years I have thought of my True Self as being located somewhere inside me. I don’t mean like literally inside my body – but definitely inside me. It never occurred to me that this might be a misrepresentation. But there’s a problem with this way of thinking about the True Self – for me at least, it contributes to a sense of being separate. And the whole point of this spiritual approach is that we are not separate – we are all part of the wholeness of everything. When I saw the True Self as being inside, I saw it as being hidden away inside the walls that we create as children to keep ourselves safe. As if the True Self needs protection. As if!