Growing up, and I still feel as if I’m growing up or at least progressing in this process of becoming, but yes growing up, I constantly rejected core parts of myself in order to fit in, in order to be accepted and loved. There was also an element of protection too. Growing up I knew or sensssd that being too wild and too unresostrcted and out there could bring trouble my way. Be looked up, be beaten up, be killed.
But I’m not prepared to repress, reject core parts of myself anymore. I don’t do it anymore because all it does it hurt me and stops me living my life on my own terms. Living y life to it’s fullest potential because I’m focused on the fear and rejection instead.
It has taken years and practice for me to take down the internal prejudices against myself. They might have been fortification constructed for protection and rejection but they did not serve me then and certainly don’t serve me now. Yeah I still protect myself from harm. I think I got complacent recently with the sea and also within the recent counselling skills session, but I’m practicing this from a place of love, self-love rather than self-hate and disgust. And the feelings are totally different.
Oak Moss Lichen, presence signifies the air quality of a place/ space/ session!
I’ve written before about this fucking counselling skills course I’m completing. So because it follows the school terms time dates, we have just returned on Monday after a week off. And my god was it difficult for me to return. We only have five sessions left and I was thinking of all kind of excuses to get out of these next five weeks, so I can just stay at home on a Monday evening and complete the mountains of task, assignments and reflective journals that need to be completed by the end of March to be in with a chance of passing this shit. So I didn’t want to return but return I did because I don’t want to fail. I’ve already put a lot of time and effort and pain into the course and I want to be able to walk away with my head held high. But it’s making it very difficult to stay the course. It really is as the space is not equipped for diversity, equity and inclusion and this is a fact. First off, a lot of time is taken up the week with the discussion of next steps. And some students are going to carry on with Level 4 and 5 with the current tutor’s private practice. Some are waiting a bit to get the finances together or looking into adult funding loans etc. But most of them are taking the next steps as they are needed to be able to practice counselling skills in society.
Lots of talk about finances, and time and access and how things are unfair and more money should be made available to do the next levels for free etc. One student, all up to date with assignments and very pleased with herself because of this, has her pathway all planned out and took great pleasure in letting everyone else know that she as the perfect student who had the time and space to just read about psychology and just add it into the pot for later etc. I recognised myself in her not so many years ago when I was always working to fulfil the perfect student role and make sure everyone else knew it too. How things have changed.
Me I know I’m not going any further than Level 3 for a number of reasons. The finances is one. This is barrier for anyone wanting to become a counsellor, the different courses and levels to complete and professional fees to be members of in order to practice, is all money money money. While training not only paying for the course, you also have to be under supervision of a therapist yourself, and be part of groups theory sessions, and then also be on placement, which is usually voluntary. The whole system is set up for those who have money already to be able to keep throwing it at the barriers and stipulations that are in place before you even qualified to counsel. So the finances are an issue, as well as not believing in the system I would be funnelling my money into in order to qualify. Not only is the education system steeped in colonialism, patriarchy and white supremacy culture but what kind of stupid duped yes massa oppressed fool would I be to actually pay to be further oppressed and brainwashed. Dead white men is the syllabus for counselling skills so why would I buy into more of that shit?
I just don’t believe in the whole system set up around becoming qualified and how it’s the privileged who continue to be in these caring helping positions when really they haven’t done the work on themselves to check their own unconscious bias, racism etc. So I’m not going any further after Level 3 so the majority of the conversation in class was very off putting and I switched off, thinking what is the point.
Once we got to the skills part, I had hardly got into my usual triad before one ‘friend’ said she didn’t want to work with me. No offence they said but you always make me laugh and I need to get my observation logs complete so I can’t work with you. How am I supposed to respond to this remark? Do what the fuck you want, but in the process make sure you reject me, by refusing to work with me and make it all my fault?
She said I make her laugh too much and she needs to focus. So okay work with the other individual in our triad and I’ll observe you as you practice being the listener and I’ll give you your feedback. And I’ll just add here, she still laughed during the skills practice, being put off by the tutor listening in on the session. I did nothing to make her laugh. So I just want to put it out there that maybe I’m not the problem or issue and that maybe they are. Just putting it out there as I’m not the problem but why not make the only Black woman in the group the problem, as then that’s easier than taking responsibility yourself for your own short comings.
It’s time to switch roles and I create a scenario to tell the other person in the triad so they can fulfil the listening counsellor role. I talk about a real current issue and I’m just being my expressive self etc. Fleshing things out to they can demonstrate all their counselling skills etc. At the end of the exercise, they takes a deep breath and turn to the other person in the triad who didn’t want to work with me and says, you’re right she is difficult to work with. That was hard, she made it hard.
Fuck why not gang up on me and make it all my fault instead of looking at yourself, or checking yourself to find out what might be lacking in your skills set and learning that you would think having a conversation with me about a real issue for me, what hard for you? Why blame the only Black woman in the room once again for your own shortcomings? Again I return to what I’ve said before white privileged people who will be in caring positions of authority who haven’t done the work on themselves, in order to know their own inner workings, before they start working with other peoples’.
But yes it’s my fault.
When it’s my turn to be the listener and practice my counselling skills, well didn’t the person come up with a scenario that was a dead end and she just sat there and didn’t really play ball. They didn’t elaborate, just dropped their problem and expected me to do all the work. I just had to laugh, and just think, but I’m the difficult one I’m the one who doesn’t take it seriously?
I’d just sat there and completed detailed feedback on each of their counselling skills, not making it personal. I didn’t critique them as individuals but in their role as the listener. But it was okay they thought for them to mess with my skills practice and after they had attacked me personally
Where is the fairness in that or the justice? Fuck and I wonder why I continue to put up with this shit week in and week fucking out?
Go back and take care of yourself. Your body needs you, your feelings need you, your perceptions need you. Your suffering needs you to acknowledge it. Go home and be there for all these things.
Sunday morning, I’m up at 6am to catch the sunrise in the sea.
The bay is quiet only a few people jumping waves and using the sauna tents.
I keep to my side of the bay where the waves are coming in smaller. I get in and feel good. The water is balmy compared to Loch Morlich last week.
I’m swimming just keep swimming. And before I know it I’m further out as well as further across into the centre left bay.
Before I release it, a big wave is coming in and I know it’s coming over my head. I stop swimming and try to make haste back to the shore knowing I’m wasting my energy.
The wave hits me hard, over my head, drenching my woollie bobbled hat and penetrates all breathing holes.
The main task is to keep standing and not to get pulled under. And to breathe of course.
I’m still trying to wade out of the sea and get to safety. But before I can make even a few more steps another wave slams me.
This time I’m down on my knees in the sea, gasping for breath. I pull off my hat, stand and I’m spluttering and stumbling to the shore.
Of course I have to turn back to the sea with a smile and say, okay you got me! I hear you. I feel you. I got a bit complacent there. Lesson learnt.
And this is a good reminder for me to always respect the sea and to not get too big for my boots. Taking it all leisurely basking in the temperature rise in comparison and forgetting where I am now.
Now in the present moment, I’m in the North Sea which is notorious for taking lives.
Don’t take you own life so lightly Sheree and pay attention.
This was published on Medium back in 2020, and I recently rediscovered it. I’ll be sharing this piece along with some other pieces from that time because they just tickle my fancy.
Longsands, Tynemouth
Learning something new isn’t easy and doesn’t happen overnight either.
There’s no magic cure, no short cuts to learning a new behaviour or new skill. You just have to practice. Show up each and every day. And do your best.
There are certain steps to follow if you want to adopt a new habit or develop a new skill. Being a creative being, I’m open to being inspired by others. The following steps have been adapted from an Instagram post by Lisa Congdon in relation to building a skill, particularly in wanting to become an artist.
I think these steps apply just as much to learning to stay indoors during the Coronavirus lockdown as to developing any new skills and habits. Here I explore how I’ve been learning to stay inside.
Begin — One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The inflow and out flow of the breath. I’ll admit, I’ve been complacent about the Coronavirus. I thought it was far way from home. I felt sorry for the thousands of deaths I was witnessing in China but I felt secure in the U.K. I was ignorant and selfish. And I was wrong. Just as the buds begin to appear on the linden trees along my street, reports start to come in about individuals being infected in England. The virus is spreading. I begin to understand it spreads through person to person contact. Around about 12th March, I make the decision to cancel events which involve people gathering. I’ve been working on a number of projects which offer opportunities to black, Asian and ethnic minorities in my region to develop a relationship with nature. Disappointingly, I put a stop to these activities. I walk into the sea to heal.
Practice — As an individual, I start to self-isolate. I stop unnecessary trips out and keep my distance from friends and family, and people, in general. It’s difficult as it’s like swimming against the tide. No one else seems to be worried about closeness. I do the responsible thing. I look after myself by taking my medicine. I go back into the sea and breathe.
Keep showing up — With my world shrinking, I contact our funders, our partners and our groups in relation to our Black Nature projects and inform them we are canceling and/or postponing events and activities scheduled for Spring and Summer because of the Coronavirus. It kills me to pick apart projects which have been six to seven years in the making but I know it’s the right thing to do to keep everyone safe. I lean into my writing practice using this time at home to follow a strict regime of morning pages, journal prompts, poetry exercises, visual journalling and reading. I’m in control of the situation.
Practice some more– Crowds of daffodils bob along the roadside as I make the twice daily trips to drop off and pick up from school. I‘m worried about our children. Our 9 year old daughter at school. Our 21 year old son away from home teacher training. It doesn’t sit well with me that I‘m self-isolating but sending my babies out into the world daily. I worry they’re at risk. I go food shopping. Shelves begin to empty and I feel people’s panic. This escalates my panic. I stop going into the sea.
Stretching self — Tuesday 17 March, we pick our daughter up from school, and don’t send her back the next day. We feel the U.K. government doesn’t care about us. We feel they’re not doing enough to protect us and stop the spread of the virus. We make our own decision to lockdown as a family. We start out as if it’s a holiday. A chance to rest and relax and catch up on TV shows and films. We have no routine. We listen to the gulls outside our windows squawking their freedom.
Practice — I shop alone for what we need. And yes this includes extra toilet rolls and pasta. I’m privileged enough to be able to buy plenty of whatever we want. People still don’t keep their distance. Their anxiety rubs off on me. I take my annoyance and frustration back into the home. No amount of showering and clothes washing can rid the stench of fear. I meet people who matter to me through a screen. I don’t go into the sea.
Practice – 23rd March the British government puts the whole country on a three week lockdown. The Prime Minister announces the police will now have the power to fine people if they leave their homes for any reason other than the following: shopping for basic necessities, one form of exercise a day, medical need or to provide care for a vulnerable person and traveling to work but only for key workers.
Note your improvements – I haven’t been in the sea for two weeks. I‘m not coping well under quarantine. I‘m not using the time away from the outside world in any productive way. I‘m beating myself up for not doing more. For not finishing the book, for not cleaning the house. For not moving forward but instead treading water. As cherry blossom blooms pink and white and raspberry, are tossed about in the wind, I’m wrapped in grief. Grieving for the life I’d built from rock bottom, in the last 5 years, gone in an instant. I’m grieving for the projects I’d worked hard and persevered with to create with others for others gone in a click of a button. I’m grieving for not being able to go to my favourite coffee shop and order an extra hot, vanilla oat latte and savour the taste while writing my morning pages. And yes I know how thoughtless and trivial that sounds. I‘m missing the sea.
Practice — My days are different now. Time seems to move differently, faster and slower at the same time. Days morph into each other and weekends just don’t feel the same when you find yourself not going out into the world to work during the week, and coming home late craving some downtime. Now every day feels like down time. It’s easy to get lost in the nothingness if I don’t have something to do. My moods are up and down as I try to enforce some structure. And then try to just go with the flow. It’s difficult to keep things together for myself and my family. Especially when I’m denying myself my medicine, the sea. Because of fear. Fear of the patrolling police questioning me. The police not just fining me but imprisoning me. I’m a vulnerable Black body outside when I’m not supposed to be outside. Try to feel my fear. Fear of other people not keeping their distance. Fear of people in general. I can only control my actions and some people are still acting in irresponsible ways through ignorance or entitlement. I tell myself: I’m not the waves of life. I try to drop below the waves and find the calm and peace underneath.
Practice — Stay home. Protect the NHS. Save lives. A constant reminder whenever I go outside. Every Thursday at 8 pm, we go outside and clap to show our appreciation for all the hard work the key workers within the NHS are doing. Are enduring. I go out once a week to do a big shop wearing a face mask and gloves. I hope my eyes tell the story that I’m smiling at the shop workers. I make a point of telling them my appreciation. I wish them safety and wellness. I make sure our daughter gets out once a day for some fresh air otherwise she’d just stay glued to her screens. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The inflow and outflow of the breath.
Repeat — One. Two. Three. Four. Five.The inflow and outflow of the breath. I practice self support. I support myself during these unprecedented times by being kind to myself. I try to have an intention regarding how I start my day. How I want to feel today. Most days, I want to be present. Most days are a present. I hold gratitude for the life I’m living, at the moment. Life is moment to moment. One moment, I’m on my mat feeling the morning chill caress my neck and shoulders. The next movement, I feel my body, it’s heaviness pulled towards the earth. I’m part of Earth. I’m trying to stay more in the now. And not worry about the future or mourn too much about the past. I’m human so it takes practice.
Beginagain— We’re still in lockdown. This isn’t a happy ending. This is me learning new habits, new ways of being. Tapping into moments of joy and peace being inside. And getting back into the sea
I’ve taken quite a shine to Loch Morlich. It’s a place that keeps on giving. And a place I long to return. I leave it with a renewed commitment to my self-love journey. To devoting more time, care and attention to myself. Diverting the attentions I might have been giving out willy-nilly to other people, thoughtlessly, I redirect back to the source. Me.
7am, Loch Morlich
I entered the loch today as the sun was rising. I broke the surface of the loch, with its shards of ice and glided out. Slow expansive circles ripped upon the lochs surface as I took slow, cold strokes. It was freezing and it was painful, but I didn’t want to stop, to get out and leave the loch. But I did.
My finger tips were white for a long time after my swim. I used hot water to bring back some feeling into them. They were so painful. But this pain, along with my body submerged without the frozen loch, are all a reminder to feel again, to live my life to the fullest and give thanks in the process.
For years, I used to travel into Scotland, maybe with work in Dunbar or Edinburgh, and stop off on route at this beach, Thorntonloch Beach.
It’s nothing spectacular, apart from stretching out at the feet of Torness Power Station, but it would be a good place to stop and stretch my legs and calm my spirit.
I remember stopping there on my first trip to Iceland and being all giddy as I watched the waves roll in. That was May 2016.
I say all this because for the last few years and the last few trips across the border, I haven’t stopped and walked this beach.
I do not know why. Maybe I didn’t want to step back into a former Sheree. Maybe I didn’t want the hassle of sand in my toes. Or maybe I just didn’t register why I really used to stop at this beach.
I used to stop at this beach, to just be. To breathe. To be present.
Torness Power Station, Dunbar
And this time as I skip across the border, I pull over, park up and just be with the beach and sea.
What do you do when you’re practicing self-love and have a whole selection of rituals to support this practice and have been following them each day for the year of 2025 so far and then one day you are just so tired that you don’t have the energy to muster the right move in the moment to demonstrate said self-love instead of self-harm?
You create a blog post about it all as a reminder as well as a source of inspiration to motivate yourself to make that self-love gesture or movement which is needed in that moment instead of continuing down that oath of self-harm and self-neglect.
Living Wild Studios 