Mine contains plenty of those things too. There are family photographs, pictures from walks, images connected to work, and more screenshots than I probably care to admit. Many seemed incredibly important at the time they were taken and have become steadily less meaningful ever since. It also turns out that I have accumulated quite a lot of photographs of graffiti.

This realisation arrived recently after I took a photograph of a piece of graffiti that proclaimed “Live Slow. Die Old” - I was out on a jog at the time working towards dying a little bit older. Curious, when I got home, I searched my phone for the word “graffiti” to see what else was there. What emerged was a surprisingly large and rather random collection of images gathered over several years. I hadn’t specifically gone looking for them at the time and wasn’t even aware that I had been collecting them until I searched.

I should probably add that this isn’t really a piece about graffiti itself. Some graffiti is unpleasant. Some is destructive. Some is remarkably talented. Some of it leaves me completely cold. This isn’t an attempt to defend it or critique it. What interests me is the fact that I keep stopping to photograph it. Usually it’s because something catches my attention whilst I’m on my way somewhere else. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Sometimes it makes me think. Occasionally it’s because I know somebody else will appreciate it if I send them a picture.

Looking through the collection, a few examples stood out.

People are idiots.

Alongside these sat a striking portrait of Johnny Marr on a wall in Manchester. Unlike the others, it didn’t need any words.

What struck me wasn’t so much the content of the images as the fact that these particular ones had survived. Thousands of other photographs have disappeared into the background of my phone. Some have been deleted. Others have simply been forgotten. Yet these remained.

The messages themselves aren’t obviously connected. Some are humorous, some appear reflective, and others seem entirely absurd. Yet each one represents somebody deciding that an observation, a joke, an image, or a thought was worth sharing with the world. The interesting thing is that the person leaving the message has no real idea who will encounter it. It might be ignored. It might annoy someone. It might make somebody laugh. It might briefly interrupt the flow of an otherwise ordinary day. And yet the message gets left anyway.

I suspect most of us have our own equivalent. A collection of images that has gradually accumulated without much conscious intention. Photographs of skies. Trees. Dogs. Coffee cups. Gates. Trains. Bookshops. Things that somehow seemed worth recording at the time, even if we couldn’t quite explain why.

Perhaps there is something interesting in noticing those patterns. Not because they reveal some hidden truth about who we are, but because they offer a glimpse of what repeatedly catches our eye as we move through the world. For me, at least, that appears to include a surprising amount of graffiti.

A Final Reflection

If you were to scroll through the photographs on your phone and look beyond the obvious family pictures, holidays, and events, what unexpected theme or collection might you discover?

You may already know the answer. Then again, perhaps not.

Sometimes what we repeatedly choose to photograph tells us less about where we have been and more about what catches our attention as we move through the world.

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Further Reflections

This piece made me think about noticing. The things we pay attention to, the things we remember, and the things that somehow stay with us. If those themes interest you, you might also enjoy:

• The Everyday Therapeutic (more random articles that consider the interface between therapy and the everyday world)

• Everyday Noticing (podcast collection within The Therapeutic Pause)

Paths often disappear into the background of everyday life. We walk along them, follow them, and rely on them without giving much thought to how they came to be there in the first place.

Yet every path has a history. At some point it began with a first footstep, and then another, until a route gradually emerged. The paths we use today carry traces of countless journeys, conversations, routines, and ordinary moments.

This reflection considers the paths that connect places and people, and the easy way they become so familiar that we barely notice them.

Part of the Everyday Noticing collection, a series of brief reflections inspired by the richness of ordinary life.

What you may find helpful

• A few uninterrupted minutes

• Curiosity rather than concentration

• A willingness to spend time with something ordinary

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk
https://counselling.substack.com

Important Note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention

Clouds are among the most familiar sights in human life, yet they can be surprisingly easy to overlook.

They drift across the background of our days, changing shape, gathering, dispersing, and carrying on whether we are paying attention to them or not. For centuries people have looked upwards and found shapes, stories, and patterns in them. Most of us have probably done the same at some point.

This reflection spends a few minutes considering clouds, imagination, and the simple act of looking up. Not to analyse anything or uncover a deeper message, but simply to notice something that has always been there.

Part of the Everyday Noticing collection, a series of brief reflections inspired by the richness of ordinary life.

What you may find helpful

• A few uninterrupted minutes

• Curiosity rather than concentration

• A willingness to spend time with something ordinary

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk
https://counselling.substack.com

Important Note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention

This episode marks the start of a new collection within The Therapeutic Pause.

Everyday Noticing is a little different from the other recordings in the podcast. Rather than focusing on rest, particular life experiences, or professional reflection, these recordings begin with ordinary aspects of everyday life and spend a few minutes looking a little more closely.

Perhaps that sounds interesting. Perhaps it sounds rather mundane. That is part of the experiment.

This first reflection explores windows. Things we look through rather than at. Familiar objects that connect our indoor lives with the world outside, while often going almost entirely unnoticed.

The hope is not that listeners discover hidden meanings or profound insights. Instead, the recording simply creates a small space for curiosity and attention. A chance to spend a few moments with something that has probably been part of daily life for years.

If this first reflection resonates with you, two further Everyday Noticing episodes, Clouds and Paths, are available now.

What you may find helpful

• A few uninterrupted minutes

• Curiosity rather than concentration

• A willingness to spend time with something ordinary

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk
https://counselling.substack.com

Important Note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention

There is some truth buried in that assumption. Summer is often a time when people take holidays and recharge after a busy academic year. Staff, students, and trainees all need opportunities to step away for a while. The pace changes and the campus often feels noticeably quieter. At the same time, university life definitely doesn’t stop.

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In many ways, the summer months represent a change of core activity for many members of staff, rather than a complete break. One academic year gradually draws to a close, whilst another begins to take shape. Exam boards take place. Results are finalised. Meetings with placement providers, professional bodies, and other stakeholders continue. There is often a surprising amount of preparation taking place for a year that has not yet started.

For those of us involved in counselling, psychotherapy, counselling psychology, and related programmes, there is often a considerable amount happening behind the scenes. Some of it is practical. Timetables need creating. Teaching rooms need booking, which is not always as straightforward as it sounds for counselling programmes when much of the teaching takes place in smaller groups rather than large lecture theatres. Module materials need reviewing and updating. Reading lists need revisiting. There always seems to be a more up-to-date textbook, an important new paper, or a resource that somehow escaped your attention the year before.

At the same time, there are broader questions to think about. Every year I find myself looking again at parts of the curriculum and wondering whether there might be a better way of presenting a topic, a new perspective that deserves attention, or a different conversation that needs creating space for. Increasingly, there are new developments within the profession to consider as well, whether that relates to technology, research, practice, or wider developments within the field - this year this involves drafting new statements for our handbooks about how much students can use AI in their work.

Alongside this sits a more reflective process. Summer often provides an opportunity to think about the year that has just passed. What worked well? What didn’t work quite so well? Which sessions seemed to generate energy and discussion? Which areas might benefit from being rethought? There is a rhythm to this kind of reflection that is harder to achieve once teaching begins again.

For many academics, the summer is also one of the periods when we manage to reconnect in a more sustained way with our research. Journal articles are written and reviewed. Research students continue progressing with their projects. Master’s dissertations and doctoral theses require supervision. Viva examinations take place. Grant applications are considered and sometimes even submitted. There is even potential space to draft book proposals that have been bubbling around for some time. There can be a sense that the absence of teaching creates abundant time for other activities, although my experience is that this time tends to disappear remarkably quickly.

Then there is the reality that lecturers are people too. Childcare still needs organising. Families continue needing attention. Homes don’t suddenly stop producing jobs that need doing. Friends, hobbies, holidays, and everyday life remain important. Summer often involves trying to weave these different strands together rather than focusing exclusively on one thing.

Around about now, my own attention begins drifting towards the start of term. I find myself checking timetables, reviewing teaching materials, responding to emails about the coming year, and thinking about the students who will soon be joining us. Every cohort is different. Certain ideas resonate more strongly with one group than another. Particular conversations emerge that nobody anticipated. Whilst a lot of preparation goes into a new academic year, some of the most memorable moments in teaching are rarely the ones that were carefully planned in advance.

With all of the above in mind, beyond the timetables, meetings, and preparation lies a degree of uncertainty. No matter how much planning takes place, you never quite know what a particular year will bring. In that respect, it is not entirely unlike therapeutic work. Some of the most interesting and meaningful moments emerge through the process itself rather than through careful planning.

For me, that remains part of the appeal.

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Further Reflections

If this piece resonated with you, you might also enjoy:

• Looking Around: A Summer Reflection for Trainees

• A New Academic Year in Counselling, Psychotherapy, and Counselling Psychology

• The Therapeutic Pause (podcast)

  Counselling and Psychotherapy Stuff is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

There can be times when life feels as though it depends on effort.

The next task. The next decision. The next step forward. The feeling that if we stop pushing, everything might simply drift off course.

Riding the Air offers a different perspective.

In this guided imagery, you are invited to imagine yourself moving gently above a wide coastline, carried by currents of air rather than effort alone. As the landscape unfolds beneath you, there is space to notice what it feels like to let go of striving for a while and experience another relationship with movement, pace, and support.

This is not a journey towards a destination. There is nowhere to reach and nothing to achieve.

Instead, it is an opportunity to rest within a wider view, to notice the difference between forcing and allowing, and to explore what it might be like to trust the currents that are already present.

Through imagery of sky, sea, and open space, the recording offers a gentle invitation to step back from immediate pressures and remember that not everything needs to be carried by effort alone.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• A willingness to let the imagery arrive in its own way

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

http:s://counselling.substack.com

Important Note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

Sometimes things feel heavy.

Not always dramatically. Not always for obvious reasons. Sometimes it is a conversation that lingers longer than expected. A responsibility that keeps returning to mind. A collection of small demands that gradually gather weight. Or simply one of those days when carrying everything seems to require a little more effort than usual.

This Five Minute Hug offers a brief invitation to pause alongside that heaviness.

Not to make it disappear.

Not to become positive.

Not to find a solution.

Just to spend a few moments gently acknowledging what is here.

Through simple reflection and awareness, you are invited to loosen your grip a little, create a little space around whatever feels weighty, and remember that you do not have to carry everything in exactly the same way.

Because sometimes kindness begins not by putting everything down, but by holding it a little more gently.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• Permission to let this moment be exactly as it is

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

Like many people living with energy-limiting conditions, there are good days and more difficult days. Days when a little more seems possible, and days when simply getting through ordinary tasks requires considerable effort. From the outside, it can be easy to underestimate just how much thought, planning, adaptation, and negotiation goes into navigating everyday life.

As I watched my friend explore different resources, I was struck by how varied helpfulness could be. Some things connected, others didn’t. What felt useful one day might not feel useful the next. Sometimes they wanted information specifically about fatigue. Sometimes they wanted something completely different. A comedy podcast. A distraction. A story. A different voice. Variety often seemed important.

There are many excellent books, websites, charities, healthcare professionals, researchers, and support communities focusing on fatigue-related conditions. They provide important information, practical guidance, advocacy, and support (some are listed at the end of this piece). Yet even with access to good resources, there can still be long stretches of time where someone is simply living with the reality of fatigue. Not necessarily looking for answers, but perhaps wanting a moment of company, reflection, or rest. I guess that’s where the idea for the Living with Fatigue series came from.

The recordings were originally made with one person in mind. They started as a small gift. A way of offering a few minutes of company during periods when energy was limited and the day perhaps felt longer than usual. What began as something quite personal gradually became a six-part collection within what I’ve called The Therapeutic Pause, a small podcast project that has since taken on a life of its own.

The recordings are not intended to be comprehensive guides to fatigue, nor do they attempt to capture every aspect of what can be a hugely varied experience. Instead, they explore some of the themes that stood out to me as I listened to people’s stories and spent time reading around the area. Themes such as permission to rest, our relationship with our bodies, the pressures of productivity, adapting to a different pace of life, living with uncertainty, and remembering that fatigue may shape part of our experience without defining who we are as people.

Of course, these themes are only a small part of a much bigger picture. Living with fatigue looks different from one person to the next, and I would be cautious about claiming that a short collection of recordings could ever fully reflect such diverse experiences. They simply represent some of the areas that particularly stood out to me as I listened and learnt.

The recordings were created in my cellar rather than in a professional studio and, whilst I’ve put a lot of effort into making something useful, they’re still a little rough around the edges in places. The production is simple and there are certainly smoother and more polished podcasts available. If I’m honest, hearing my own voice still makes me cringe on occasion and so the editing process is often a little swift. Yet, I think there is something important in remembering that these recordings were created by a fellow human being. They began as a simple act of care, rather than an attempt to create a professional audio product. In part, that is also why I have resisted endlessly refining them. At some point, what mattered most was not producing something perfect, but producing something that might be useful.

The series also reflects something of my background as a humanistic psychologist. Much of my professional life has been shaped by the belief that people are doing their best to navigate often challenging circumstances and that there can be value in creating spaces where experiences are heard, acknowledged, and explored. The recordings were created in that spirit. They are not intended to fix fatigue or provide answers. Instead, they offer a few moments to pause, acknowledge and reflect on experiences that can sometimes feel difficult to put into words.

There is no single way to experience fatigue and no single way to live alongside it. These recordings are simply one attempt to acknowledge some of the challenges that can accompany it. Listeners may connect with some parts and not with others, and that seems entirely appropriate. After all, one of the things I learnt from watching my friend navigate fatigue was that different things can be helpful at different times.

What has surprised me is how many people seem to have connected with these recordings and with The Therapeutic Pause more generally. By the time this piece is published, the podcast will have accumulated around 1,000 listens in only a few weeks. That was never part of any plan. The original intention was much smaller and much simpler. There is certainly something encouraging about knowing that others have found value in pausing for a few moments to reflect, rest, or simply be. Here I should probably include the caveat that I don’t actually know this is the case. People may simply have pressed play out of curiosity or perhaps to laugh at the slightly strange thing I’ve created. Whatever the reason, though, people seem to have engaged, and I’m grateful for that.

I’ve also had some encouraging conversations about future themes for The Therapeutic Pause. Some suggestions that have been raised include a similar collection focusing on living with anxiety (a topic that often goes hand in hand with fatigue), a slightly different angle about navigating different experiences such as grief or exam stress. People have also been listening to the Guided Imageries and Five Minute Hugs (short recordings trying to offer warmth, comfort, and encouragement) so I’ll probably keep adding to them. There is still plenty of thinking to do around these ideas. For now, though, I’m enjoying experimenting with them in the evenings and seeing where they lead.

For now, all six Living with Fatigue recordings are available as part of The Therapeutic Pause:

• Permission to Pause

• Meeting Your Body Where It Is

• Rest Without Guilt

• A Different Pace

• Living with Uncertainty

• Being More Than Fatigue

If you are living with fatigue yourself, supporting somebody who is, or are simply curious about the series, you are very welcome to explore them. They are all free to listen to and available on things like spotify or apple music. As mentioned, my hope is not that they provide solutions. Instead, I hope that some people find them useful and they offer a few moments of company, reflection, or rest. After all, that is what they were originally created to do.

Some Further Resources

If you are looking for information, support, or advocacy relating to fatigue and ME/CFS, the following organisations may be helpful:

UK Resources

• The ME Association: information, support services, literature, and updates on research and healthcare developments.

• Action for ME: support services, community resources, healthcare information, and campaigning work for people affected by ME.

• NHS ME/CFS Information: guidance on symptoms, diagnosis, treatment approaches, and living with ME/CFS.

International Resources

• Solve M.E. (USA): A leading organisation funding research, advocacy, education, and awareness activities related to ME/CFS and related post-infectious conditions.

• Bateman Horne Center (USA): An excellent source of patient education materials, practical guidance, webinars, and resources for people living with ME/CFS, Long COVID, and related conditions.

• Emerge Australia: Australia’s national organisation providing support, education, advocacy, and research initiatives for people affected by ME/CFS and Long COVID.

From Counselling and Psychotherapy Stuff

• The Everyday Therapeutic series, exploring the therapeutic potential of ordinary aspects of daily life.

• Other Collections Within The Therapeutic Pause:

Five Minute Hugs: short recordings offering warmth, comfort, and encouragement.

Guided Imagery: reflective journeys designed to support rest, imagination, and gentle exploration.

What next?

I’ve been encouraged by the response to The Therapeutic Pause and have already started thinking about where it might go next. A number of people have suggested a collection focused on anxiety, whilst others have put forward different ideas and themes that they’d like to hear explored.

For now, though, I’m content to let the Living with Fatigue series find its audience. After all, the recordings were never created as part of some grand plan. They began as a gift and, in many ways, that’s still how I think about them.

I’d be interested to hear your thoughts. If you’ve listened to the series, are there particular themes, experiences, or topics that you think might be worth exploring in a future collection?

Leave a comment

Fatigue can take up a great deal of space.

It can shape daily routines, influence decisions, and affect what feels possible at different times. When something becomes such a significant part of life, it can sometimes begin to feel as though it is the whole story.

This guided reflection offers a gentle reminder that while fatigue may be part of a person’s experience, it need not define the entirety of who they are. Through reflection, the recording creates space to reconnect with other aspects of identity, values, relationships, memories, and hopes.

This is the final recording in the Living with Fatigue collection within The Therapeutic Pause.

About this collection

Living with Fatigue is a six-part series of guided reflections created to accompany some of the experiences that can arise when living with an energy-limiting condition. The recordings explore themes including rest, self-compassion, uncertainty, pace, and identity.

A longer reflection on the origins and development of the series, including why it was created, can be found on Counselling and Psychotherapy Stuff.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest

• A willingness to spend a few moments alongside uncertainty

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

One of the more challenging aspects of living with fatigue can be uncertainty.

Energy levels may vary from day to day. Plans can feel difficult to make. There may be questions that remain unanswered and futures that are difficult to predict.

This guided reflection offers a gentle pause to consider what it means to live alongside uncertainty without needing to resolve it immediately. Rather than searching for certainty, the invitation is to reconnect with the present moment and consider what support, care, and kindness might look like today.

This recording forms part of the Living with Fatigue collection within The Therapeutic Pause.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest

• A willingness to spend a few moments alongside uncertainty

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

Living with fatigue can sometimes mean adjusting to a pace that was never part of the plan.

Activities may take longer. Recovery may require more attention. Things that once felt straightforward may need to be approached differently. It can be tempting to compare today with yesterday, or with earlier versions of ourselves.

This guided reflection explores what it might mean to meet a different pace with a little less judgement. Rather than focusing on what has been lost, the invitation is to notice what is possible today and to consider how we might work alongside the rhythms that are available to us.

This recording forms part of the Living with Fatigue collection within The Therapeutic Pause.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• A willingness to reflect on pace, expectations, and self-compassion

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

“School’s out for summer...”

For some readers, those words will immediately bring Alice Cooper to mind. For others, they simply signal the end of the school year and the beginning of a different rhythm of life. Either way, the summer holidays have arrived. For many, the routines that organise everyday life loosen a little, at least for a while. School runs pause, timetables change, and familiar structures give way to something less predictable.

The school holidays often carry a surprising amount of expectation. Arguably, they are meant to be memorable, enjoyable, restorative, and somehow worth the logistical effort that often goes into making them happen. One of the things that tends to accompany them is the arrival of the summer blockbuster movie. This year, one of these happens to be Spider-Man, a superhero franchise that I have always had a soft spot for. By the time you read this, I will probably have found myself sitting in a cinema, eating overpriced snacks and watching Tom Holland pretending to be a teenager whilst swinging between buildings and trying to save New York. For me, summer holidays and Spider-Man seem to go well together somehow.

One of the main things I like about Spider-Man is that, despite the superhero costume, he remains remarkably ordinary. Peter Parker is rarely portrayed as somebody entirely on top of things. He is often juggling competing demands, trying to do the right thing, worrying about letting people down, and discovering that there is rarely enough time or energy to do everything he thinks he should. In many ways, he is one of the most human superheroes, albeit with rather more spider in him than most of us.

Perhaps that is part of the reason the character has remained so popular for so long. Most of us know something about competing responsibilities. Summer holidays can have a way of making this particularly visible. Parents attempt to balance work, childcare, family time, budgets, household tasks, and the hope of creating positive memories. Children find themselves freed from school routines, but also navigating long stretches of unstructured time. The holidays offer freedom, but they also bring their own demands.

A Spider-Man quote came to mind whilst thinking about this piece. In Spider-Man: No Way Home, MJ says that “if you expect disappointment, then you can never really be disappointed.” It is a humorous line, but it also says something about expectations. Holidays often arrive carrying them. The perfect break. The perfect day out. The perfect weather. The perfect family photograph. Reality tends to be rather messier.

The sentiment behind the quote is hardly unique to Spider-Man. Variations of it have appeared in philosophy, literature, and everyday wisdom for generations. Lower your expectations and you avoid disappointment. There may be some truth in that. Yet I am not entirely convinced it is the best way to approach either holidays or life more generally. Expectations can lead to disappointment, but they are also closely connected to hope. Without them, would we still plan the trip, book the tickets, organise the day out, or head off to the cinema in the first place?

Perhaps this is also part of Spider-Man’s enduring appeal. In a culture that often seems to place a premium on things appearing polished, successful, and perfectly put together, Peter Parker rarely looks as if he has everything under control. He makes mistakes, gets things wrong, disappoints people, and regularly discovers that life is more complicated than he expected it to be. Yet he keeps showing up. The appeal is not that he achieves perfection. It is that he remains recognisably human. Summer holidays can be a bit like that too. They rarely unfold exactly as imagined, yet some of their value may lie precisely in their imperfections.

The irony is that the memories we carry rarely correspond to the perfect moments anyway. I am reminded of one summer when my parents were not in a position to take my brother and me away on holiday. Instead, they bought us a membership to the local video rental shop. Looking back, it was hardly an exotic experience, but it remains one of my strongest summer memories. For several weeks we made regular trips backwards and forwards to the shop, returning one film and picking another. We started with the obvious choices but, as the summer wore on, gradually found ourselves working through increasingly questionable films. Alongside days spent outside with friends playing football, it became the rhythm of that particular holiday. I can remember very little about many of the films themselves, but I vividly remember the excitement of choosing them, the walk there and back, and sharing the experience with my brother.

Looking back, it is not the absence of a holiday that I remember. If anything, it is the opposite. It is a reminder that some of the experiences that stay with us most vividly are not always the ones that look particularly impressive from the outside. The stories linger far longer than the plans.

I wonder whether this is part of what summer films provide for us. Not simply entertainment, but shared reference points. Families watch them together. Friends talk about them afterwards. Children replay scenes in gardens, playgrounds, and living rooms. The film itself is important, but so is everything that gathers around it. Most of us can probably remember a film that became attached to a particular summer. Years later, we may struggle to recall the details of the plot, but we remember who we watched it with, where we were, and the stage of life in which it was experienced.

The everyday therapeutic is often found in places like this. Not in grand breakthroughs or life-changing moments, but in the stories we accumulate, the experiences we share, and the memories that gradually attach themselves to particular periods of our lives. Perhaps that is why I still find myself thinking about those walks to the video shop all these years later. The films themselves were often forgettable. The experience was not. In a culture that can sometimes encourage us to pursue bigger, better, and more polished versions of life, there is something reassuring about recognising the value of ordinary moments. The significance of these moments is rarely obvious at the time, but years later they often become the memories that define a particular summer.

A Summer Reflection

One of my strongest summer memories involves a video rental shop, a stack of increasingly questionable films, and regular trips there and back with my brother.

What’s yours?

Feel free to share a summer memory below. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I suspect that many of our strongest memories are built from fairly ordinary moments that only become meaningful when viewed from a distance.

As always, please keep contributions suitable for a public forum, and only share stories that feel comfortable to share in this space.

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Further Reflections

If this piece resonated with you, you might also enjoy:

• The Everyday Therapeutic: Therapy on the TV

• The Everyday Therapeutic: On Humans

• Looking Around: A Summer Reflection for Trainees

What interests me about this period is that it sits between things. One year has ended, but another has not quite begun. It can be tempting to fill this gap quickly. There are books that could be read, papers that should probably be looked at, competencies that could be developed, and preparations that could be made for what comes next. Training has a way of encouraging us to continually think about how we might become better practitioners.

I remember spending a lot of time during training worrying about what I had not yet read. There was always another book that seemed essential, another paper that everyone else appeared to know about, another theory that deserved closer attention. At some point, however, I realised that this was not a problem that could be solved. There was always going to be more. The reading list was never going to be completed. The profession itself was bigger than any one person’s ability to master it. Oddly enough, I found that realisation quite freeing.

Looking back, I think part of what I was discovering was something close to Rogers’ notion of becoming. There was never going to be a point where I arrived fully formed as a practitioner. The task was not to reach a final state of competence, but to remain engaged in an ongoing process of learning and development. Realising that there would always be another book to read, another theory to encounter, and another perspective to consider was strangely liberating. Rather than trying to master everything, I found myself becoming more comfortable with the idea of remaining curious. That shift made me think differently about the periods between academic years.

Many of the experiences that ultimately shape us as therapists, counsellors, psychologists, and helping professionals happen outside of training. They happen through friendships, family relationships, hobbies, reading literature, travel, conversations, disappointments, mistakes, and moments of joy. They emerge through engaging with the world rather than studying it.

Training can create a necessary narrowing of attention. Entire months can become focused on theory, supervision, placement work, assignments, skills development, and professional identity. All of these things matter. They are part of learning the craft. But the people we eventually sit alongside do not arrive as theories or case studies. They arrive with lives. To work meaningfully alongside them requires more than professional knowledge. It also requires us to remain connected with our own humanity.

This is one reason why I find myself encouraging trainees to make use of whatever space becomes available during the summer months. Not as another developmental task, and not because every experience needs to contribute towards becoming a better practitioner. Rather, because there is value in allowing yourself to become absorbed in things that have nothing to do with training.

Read books that will never appear on a reading list. Go to concerts. Follow a sporting event. Spend time with people whose interests and experiences differ from your own. Wander around somewhere unfamiliar. Learn something simply because it interests you. Give yourself permission to become engaged in activities that will never find their way into an assignment or supervision discussion. There is something about looking around that can easily be lost during training.

Perhaps this is particularly relevant within professions that place such an emphasis upon reflection. Reflection is important, but it can sometimes leave us feeling that every experience needs to be analysed, understood, or translated into professional learning. Sometimes it is enough to have the experience. Sometimes a walk is just a walk, a conversation is just a conversation, and a summer afternoon is simply an opportunity to enjoy being where you are.

The irony, of course, is that many of these seemingly ordinary experiences often influence our professional work in ways that formal training does not. They shape how we understand people. They expand our perspectives. They remind us of the complexity, diversity, and unpredictability of life. Often this only becomes apparent much later.

Before long, a new academic year will begin. Reading lists will reappear. Placements will continue. New cohorts will start their training journeys, while returning students move into the next stage of their development. Questions about competence, practice, and professional identity will return with them. For now, however, there may be value in inhabiting the space between. Not because it is productive, and not because it can be justified as a form of professional development. Instead, because becoming a therapist, counsellor, or psychologist is only ever part of a larger process of becoming a person.

Further Reflections

If this piece resonates, you might also enjoy:

• A New Academic Year in Counselling, Psychotherapy, and Counselling Psychology – reflections on beginning and returning to training.

• The Everyday Therapeutic: On Humans – some thoughts on the value of human connection and experience.

• The Everyday Therapeutic: Where Football and Therapy Meet – reflections on how ordinary experiences can shape who we become.

A Summer Activity

As a slightly tongue-in-cheek exercise, I’d be interested to know:

What is the book you’re not going to read this summer?

Or perhaps:

What is the professional thing that you’ve been telling yourself you were definitely going to get around to, but almost certainly aren’t going to fit in?

Read that article. Attend that webinar. Finish that chapter. Start that project.

Feel free to share your answer below. Sometimes accepting that there will always be more to read, learn, and do is part of the learning too.

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Since writing that piece, however, I have found myself returning to a related, and perhaps more immediate, question.

What do therapists do when it is the client who brings AI into the therapy room?

Whether practitioners are enthusiastic about AI, deeply sceptical of it, or somewhere in between, people are already using these tools. Recent research suggests that many individuals are turning to AI systems for learning, decision-making, self-reflection, emotional support, and help with everyday concerns. Mental health and wellbeing are only one part of that picture, but they are clearly part of it. As a result, AI is increasingly becoming part of the context in which therapy takes place. Not because therapists are introducing it, but because clients already are.

What strikes me is that people are not bringing AI into therapy in one consistent way. The phrase “client AI use” can make it sound as though everyone is doing roughly the same thing. In reality, the picture appears far more varied. Some forms of use sit quite comfortably alongside resources that therapists have been familiar with for years. Others raise rather different questions. The taxonomy below is certainly not exhaustive, but it reflects some of the ways that clients seem to be bringing AI into therapeutic spaces.

Different Ways AI Is Entering Therapy

AI as an information resource

Some people are using AI much as previous generations used self-help books, websites, or search engines. They ask questions about anxiety, attachment, ADHD, depression, trauma, grief, autism, relationships, or other aspects of psychological wellbeing.

Example:
“ChatGPT explained attachment styles to me and I think I might be anxiously attached.”

Here, the AI is functioning largely as a psychoeducational tool.

AI as a reflective or journalling space

Others appear to be using AI as a place to organise thoughts, reflect on difficult experiences, or process events that have happened between sessions. The interaction becomes something closer to an interactive journal.

Example:
“I had an argument with my partner and spent some time talking it through with ChatGPT before coming here.”

AI as a thinking partner

Some clients use AI to explore options, rehearse conversations, test ideas, or think through decisions. Rather than seeking emotional support, they are using it as a sounding board for life choices.

Example:
“I used Claude to help me think about whether changing jobs would be the right thing to do.”

AI as emotional support

For some individuals, AI is being used during moments of loneliness, distress, uncertainty, or emotional discomfort. The attraction may be its availability, responsiveness, or perceived lack of judgement.

Example:
“I wasn’t feeling great at the weekend, so I ended up chatting to Copilot for a couple of hours.”

AI as a therapeutic alternative

In some situations, people are using AI in ways that begin to overlap with territory that therapists would recognise immediately. Exploring past experiences, relationship patterns, self-esteem issues, emotional difficulties, or recurring life themes.

Example:
“I’ve been talking with ChatGPT every day about my relationships and I feel like it’s helping me understand myself.”

AI as a second opinion

Increasingly, clients appear to be using AI to generate interpretations of their difficulties, evaluate therapeutic ideas, or even reflect on therapy itself.

Example:
“ChatGPT thinks I might have ADHD. What do you think?”

Or:

“I put some notes from our last session into Claude and asked it what it thought.”

AI as a companion or attachment figure

This appears to be a smaller group, but one that raises particularly significant questions about loneliness, attachment, trust, and emotional connection. For some individuals, the relationship with the AI itself may become meaningful.

Example:
“I feel like it’s the one place I can say exactly what I think.”

Recognising these different forms of use feels important because they are not really the same phenomenon. The questions raised by someone who occasionally asks ChatGPT about attachment theory may be very different from those raised by someone who spends several hours each day having emotionally significant conversations with an AI companion.

So What Might Therapists Do?

My instinct is that curiosity remains a useful starting point.

When clients mention AI, there can be a temptation to focus on the quality of the AI response itself. Was ChatGPT right? Was Claude wrong? Did it provide sensible advice? Whilst these questions may occasionally matter, I am not convinced they are always the most therapeutically useful place to begin.

What often seems more important is understanding the role that the technology is playing in the person’s life.

• What prompted them to use it?

• What need was it meeting?

• What felt helpful about the interaction?

• What felt disappointing?

• What does it offer that other resources or relationships do not?

• What remains absent?

• How does it sit alongside other sources of support?

These questions move the focus back towards the person’s experience rather than the technology itself.

It may also be that different forms of AI use invite different types of therapeutic conversation. Someone using AI to understand attachment theory presents a very different picture from someone who is turning to an AI companion every night before going to sleep. The issue is not whether one is good and the other is bad, but understanding the role the technology is playing and what meaning it holds.

Thinking About AI Across the Therapeutic Contact

It may also be useful to think about AI use at different stages of therapeutic work.

Before therapy begins

One of the developments I expect to see more frequently is people arriving at therapy having first consulted an AI system. Some may come having self-diagnosed through interactions with ChatGPT. Others may have used AI to help them decide whether they need therapy at all.

Increasingly, the path into therapy may include AI as one of the stops along the way.

Assessment and contracting

As AI becomes more embedded within everyday life, it may become increasingly relevant to ask about it in the same way therapists ask about support networks, online activity, significant relationships, or previous experiences of help-seeking.

Questions such as:

“Have you used AI tools in relation to the difficulties that bring you here?”

or

“Do AI systems play any role in how you think about your wellbeing?”

may become increasingly ordinary.

The aim would not be to identify a problem, but to understand the person’s wider ecosystem of support and learning.

During therapy

Here, the focus may be less on evaluating the chatbot and more on understanding its significance.

What role is it playing?

Why does the person return to it?

What needs are being met?

What does it contribute?

What does it fail to provide?

How does it compare with other relationships and sources of support?

In many ways, the therapeutic task remains the same. The AI becomes part of the material available for exploration.

Towards endings and beyond

There is perhaps an interesting future question here too.

What happens after therapy ends?

Some people may continue to use AI tools as part of their ongoing reflective practice. Others may come to rely on them more heavily over time. Some may even decide that they are getting enough from a chatbot and no longer feel the need for therapy or other forms of professional support.

Whether that is positive, problematic, or something in between is likely to depend upon the individual situation. Nevertheless, it suggests that AI may increasingly become part of conversations about endings, maintenance, and ongoing support after therapy concludes.

Holding a Position

Perhaps the final challenge is for therapists themselves.

Before thinking too much about how to respond when AI enters the room, there may be value in understanding our own position. Not necessarily a fixed position, but an awareness of our assumptions, hopes, concerns, and uncertainties.

Are we curious?

Enthusiastic?

Concerned?

Sceptical?

Avoidant?

Some combination of all of the above?

Whatever our position, it is likely to shape what we notice, what we attend to, and how we understand what clients bring. As these technologies become increasingly woven into people’s lives, it may become more important for therapists to have thought through their own relationship with them.

Paradoxically, the more people use AI to reflect on themselves, seek support, or make sense of their experiences, the more important the facilitating role of the therapist may become. Not because therapists need to compete with AI, and not because they need to become advocates for it. Rather, because therapy offers a place where a person’s relationship with the technology itself can be explored, understood, questioned, and reflected upon.

In that sense, perhaps the challenge is not how therapists use AI. It is how therapists work with the fact that clients already do.

If you have encountered experiences that I’ve not mentioned above, please do feel free to share them below. My hope is that, by sharing observations and experiences, we can build a clearer picture of how AI is entering therapeutic work and be better prepared for when it appears in the therapy room.

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Continue the Conversation

Much of the writing on this Substack emerges through conversations, research, teaching, professional practice, and everyday observations.

If this post resonated with you, you may also enjoy some of the related reflections below.

When AI Enters the Therapy Room

The Gravity of AI in Therapy

• Part 1: Holding on to Difference in a World That Pulls Towards the Centre

• Part 2: The Pull of Home Base in a Changing Therapeutic Landscape

The Everyday Therapeutic: On humans

[There’s quite a few more on AI, but I’ll leave it there for now - I hope you find some of them useful/interesting]

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As with any homemade gift, there is always a degree of uncertainty involved. You spend hours making something that feels meaningful to you, but once it leaves your hands it belongs to somebody else. My hope was simply that they might find some of it useful. Not necessarily all of it. One of the ideas behind the project was that different things are helpful at different times. Some days we want a longer reflection. Some days we only have the energy for a few minutes. Some days we want to think. Some days we simply want to rest. No single resource seems to fit every situation, which is perhaps why the recordings gradually evolved into a small collection rather than a single resource.

I’ve used guided imagery exercises and relaxation recordings in different contexts over the years, both with adults and young people, and they have generally seemed to be received well - at least by some people. I suspect part of their appeal is that they offer permission to slow down for a while. I’ve always enjoyed offering them and, as it turns out, creating them too. Recording a guided reflection requires me to become a little more present myself. I have to slow down, pay attention to my breathing, and think carefully about each sentence. In many ways, the process creates its own pause, inviting me to practise some of the same things I’m encouraging others to do.

Not Really a Podcast Person

Despite trying a few times, I have never really been a podcast listener. That probably sounds like a strange thing to admit when launching a podcast. I’ve listened to plenty of guided imagery exercises, relaxation recordings, and mindfulness practices over the years, but podcasts have never played a particularly large role in my life. In some ways, that may explain why The Therapeutic Pause doesn’t entirely feel like a podcast to me. It feels more like a small library of audio resources - something people might dip into when they need it, rather than something that needs to be followed from beginning to end.

I also arrived at the project with what somebody once described as a boring voice. Years ago, someone left a comment on a video recording I had made (recorded during a rather unusual academic visit to Moscow many years ago). They described my voice as boring before adding that it was probably exactly the sort of voice they wanted from somebody doing the kind of work that I do. I’ve chosen to remember the second part of the sentence rather than the first.

In truth, I think there may have been something useful in the observation. The recordings that make up The Therapeutic Pause are not trying to be exciting. They are not trying to compete for attention. They are not built around high-energy storytelling or dramatic revelations. Their purpose is much simpler. They are trying to create a little space, a little rest, and a little room to breathe. If a boring voice contributes to that, perhaps I should embrace it.

A Good Enough Podcast

The more I worked on the project, the more I found myself thinking about the idea of a “good enough” podcast.

There are certainly better-produced podcasts out there. There are people with more sophisticated equipment, more technical expertise, better microphones, and a far more developed understanding of audio production than I possess. There are recordings with beautifully engineered soundscapes and production values that make mine seem decidedly homemade. And yet, increasingly, I find myself wondering whether homemade is entirely a bad thing.

One of the unexpected things about creating these recordings has been doing so at a time when increasingly sophisticated AI systems can generate remarkably polished content. In many ways, that is impressive. Yet the more polished some things become, the more interested I find myself in the small signs that something was made by a person.

The breaths.

The pauses.

The occasional word that doesn’t come out quite as intended.

The moments where I realise I have slightly misread my own script and decide it isn’t worth recording the whole thing again.

The evidence that another human being was present.

The keyboard accompaniment sits somewhere in this space too. It isn’t especially sophisticated. In truth, it is probably a little cheesy and perhaps a little stereotypical. I am certainly not a keyboard player. It simply creates a gentle backdrop that seems to fit what the recordings are trying to do. It sits quietly in the background and, for the most part, stays out of the way.

The whole project has been something of an experiment. Some decisions have been deliberate. Others have emerged because I am learning as I go. I suspect there are plenty of things that a more experienced producer would do differently. There are occasional mispronunciations, moments where the intonation isn’t quite what I intended, and places where I could probably spend another hour editing. But at some point I have found myself asking whether endless polishing would actually improve the resource, or simply delay it from existing at all.

If I had waited until I knew how to make the perfect podcast, I suspect there would be no podcast.

Much of The Therapeutic Pause is built around a fairly simple humanistic idea: that people do not need to become perfect before they deserve care. Somewhere along the way, it struck me that I didn’t particularly want the recordings themselves pretending to be perfect either.

What Has Emerged

As the project developed, three collections began to emerge. Living with Fatigue explores themes of rest, acceptance, and kindness in the context of fatigue. Five Minute Hugs offers short moments of encouragement and companionship. Guided Imagery invites listeners into landscapes that offer rest, reflection, perspective, and restoration.

By the time this post appears, there will be ten recordings available across those collections. That feels both slightly surprising and oddly satisfying given that none of this was planned particularly far in advance.

At the time of writing, the recordings have already been listened to 486 times, which is rather more than I expected given that the birthday gift at the centre of all this has not yet been delivered. The project was created with one person in mind, but it seems that a handful of others have found their way there too. Perhaps that is one of the pleasures of putting something into the world. Sometimes it travels a little further than you expected.

I certainly wasn’t trying to create the best podcast. I was trying to create a useful one. Something that might sit alongside the many excellent resources that already exist. Something that might add a small contribution to the pool rather than replace what is already there. Something that might be helpful to a friend and, perhaps, to others who happen to stumble across it at the right moment.

A few minutes of reflection.

A guided walk through a woodland.

A sheltered bay.

A five minute hug.

That’s enough.

What Comes Next?

The collection remains relatively small and very much a work in progress. There are ideas scribbled down for future series focused on anxiety, everyday noticing, walking reflections, and the experience of learning to become a therapist. Some of those ideas may become recordings. Others may never get beyond a notebook. That’s fine. The project is still finding its feet.

If you have suggestions for future collections, themes, or topics that you think might be useful, I’d be interested to hear them. Several of the recordings already exist because of conversations with other people and suggestions about what might be helpful. I can’t promise to create everything that is suggested, but I’ll certainly add ideas to the list and see where they might fit.

The Therapeutic Pause began as a gift. Perhaps it can continue to grow in the same spirit. For now, though, I’m content with the slightly rough edges.

The breaths.

The pauses.

The occasionally boring voice.

In a world increasingly filled with polished content, there is perhaps still some value in being reminded that another human being made something and offered it in good faith.

And if a few people find these recordings useful along the way, then that feels like a pretty good outcome to me.

The Therapeutic Pause is available on Substack, Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

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Sometimes it can help to step back from the closeness of daily life and see things from a slightly different perspective.

In this guided imagery practice, you are invited to follow a gentle path up a hillside, moving at your own pace through open landscapes and changing views. Along the way, there is space to pause, breathe, and notice what becomes visible when we allow ourselves a little distance from the demands of everyday life.

This is not a journey about reaching a destination or achieving anything in particular. Instead, it is an opportunity to slow down, reflect, and spend time in a landscape that offers perspective, spaciousness, and a different view of the path beneath your feet.

There is no need to imagine everything perfectly. Simply allow the images, sensations, and atmosphere to emerge in whatever way feels right for you.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• A willingness to explore a landscape at your own pace

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

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Recently, I have noticed a particular theme beginning to surface in these conversations. Not as a headline issue, but more as a passing remark. Various practitioners have spoken about encouraging clients to use large language models such as ChatGPT between sessions (or at least hinting that this is the case). Usually this is not being discussed as a replacement for therapy. Instead, it is framed as a tool for reflection, journalling, psychoeducation, exploring ideas, or helping clients think through challenges that have arisen during the week. The comments have tended to be brief and anecdotal, but they have prompted me to pause and think carefully about the implications.

The more I have reflected on these conversations, the more I have found myself wondering whether we are entering terrain that we have not yet fully mapped out as a profession. At present, I am not convinced that we have thought through all of the practical, ethical and professional issues that emerge when a therapist actively recommends an AI system (here I’m specifically thinking about commonplace tools such as ChatGPT, Claud etc etc) as part of the therapeutic process.

Therapists have always recommended resources. We suggest books, share articles, offer worksheets, recommend podcasts and direct people towards useful websites and support organisations. Encouraging clients to engage with ideas and activities beyond the therapy room is an ordinary part of many approaches. In that sense, recommending a large language model could initially be viewed as simply another example of this broader practice. However, the more I think about it, the less convinced I become that the comparison is straightforward.

If I recommend a book, I have a reasonably good understanding of what is contained within it. If I share a worksheet, I know what questions it asks. If I direct someone towards a website, I can review its content beforehand. Whilst clients may interpret or engage with these resources in different ways, the material itself remains relatively stable. Large language models operate rather differently. They are dynamic, interactive and responsive. The content emerges through conversation. A therapist may envisage a client using ChatGPT to support reflective journalling, yet that same client may find themselves discussing relationship dilemmas, exploring difficult memories, seeking reassurance during moments of distress or asking for advice about major life decisions. The conversation evolves in ways that neither the client nor therapist can fully predict in advance. It is at this point that my sense of unease begins to emerge.

To be clear, I am not arguing that these systems are without value. Quite the opposite. It seems obvious that many people already find them useful. Clients are using them to process experiences, rehearse conversations, explore ideas and help make sense of situations in their lives. Whether therapists encourage this or not, large language models have already become part of many people’s wider ecosystems of support and learning. Ignoring that reality feels neither realistic nor particularly helpful. Acknowledging that something may be useful however, is not the same as recommending it as part of therapeutic work.

The issue that keeps pulling at my attention is the therapeutic contract. Contracting often sits quietly in the background of practice, but it performs a significant role. It establishes expectations, clarifies responsibilities and helps create a shared understanding of how therapy will proceed. Much of what we do depends upon this mutual understanding. However, most contracts were not developed with interactive AI systems in mind. They emerged within a world where therapists, clients and established resources formed the primary ingredients of the therapeutic relationship.

So, if a therapist explicitly recommends that a client uses a large language model between sessions, what exactly is being contracted for?

The question sounds deceptively simple, but the more I sit with it the more complicated it becomes. Is the AI simply another resource, similar to a book or worksheet? Or has something else entered the therapeutic space? Unlike a workbook, a large language model responds. It asks questions, offers suggestions, reflects information back and sometimes presents itself in a way that feels surprisingly conversational. It can become part of the process through which a client understands themselves and their difficulties. In that sense, it starts to occupy a position within the broader therapeutic ecosystem. Once that happens, it becomes harder to view it as simply another resource sitting on the sidelines.

As I have reflected on these conversations, one exercise has stayed with me more than any other. Rather than debating the pros and cons of AI in the abstract, I found myself trying to answer a practical question: if a therapist were to recommend a large language model as part of therapeutic work, what would actually need to be discussed beforehand?

The exercise was revealing. The more I thought about it, the longer the list became. Conversations would presumably need to cover the purpose of the tool and the role it was expected to play. There would need to be some acknowledgement that the system may generate inaccurate, misleading or inappropriate information. Issues relating to privacy, confidentiality and data handling would quickly come into view. Clients would likely need to understand that their therapist was not monitoring interactions with the system and could not be responsible for every response generated. Consideration would also need to be given to how material arising from those conversations might be brought back into therapy and explored together, and what should happen if using the technology led to confusion, dependency or distress rather than insight.

The exercise below is probably the thing that ultimately made me most cautious. Once I started trying to draft a hypothetical contract, I realised just how many issues would need to be addressed. The resulting document is not guidance and should not be treated as such. If anything, it serves the opposite purpose. It is an attempt to expose the questions that emerge when an AI system moves from being something clients happen to use into something therapists actively recommend.

Another issue that feels difficult to ignore concerns professional responsibility. If a therapist recommends a book and a client dislikes it, the boundaries of accountability generally feel relatively clear. If a therapist recommends an interactive AI system and that system produces advice that is inaccurate, harmful or misleading, the situation becomes considerably less straightforward. At what point does a recommendation become part of an intervention? How might professional indemnity insurers view such a recommendation? If a client acts upon advice produced by a large language model and experiences harm, where would responsibility sit? Would the recommendation itself become relevant in any subsequent complaint or claim? I do not raise these questions because I have answers. I raise them because I am not sure that anyone currently does. Part of me wonders whether professional indemnity providers have even begun to think seriously about this issue. If a practitioner explicitly recommends an AI tool and a client later experiences harm after acting on its suggestions, how would that situation be interpreted? At present, I genuinely do not know. Yet the fact that I cannot answer that question gives me pause.

What strikes me is how quickly conversations about AI tend to focus on capability. We ask whether it can support reflection, whether it can increase access, whether it can provide information or whether it can help clients think differently about their difficulties. These are all important questions. Yet once therapists begin actively recommending these systems, questions about accountability, contracting, risk and responsibility become equally important. Those questions often feel less exciting, but they may ultimately prove more consequential.

As I have reflected on these conversations, I have found myself returning repeatedly to the same question:

Should therapists be recommending AI between sessions?

At present, my instinct is one of caution. This is not because I think these technologies have nothing to offer. Nor because I believe they should be excluded from therapeutic conversations. Clients are already using them. In many cases they have become part of the wider ecosystems of support and learning that people draw upon in their everyday lives. Ignoring that reality seems neither realistic nor particularly helpful.

What concerns me is the step beyond that. The moment at which a therapist actively recommends a large language model as part of therapeutic work. As soon as that happens, questions about contracting, professional responsibility, confidentiality, indemnity insurance, risk management and accountability begin to emerge. Those questions strike me as every bit as important as discussions about the capabilities of the technology itself.

The hypothetical contract at the end of this article is not intended as guidance. If anything, it is intended to do the opposite. It is a thought experiment designed to expose the complexity of what initially appears to be a straightforward recommendation. The longer the contract becomes, the more I find myself wondering whether we currently understand these issues well enough.

Perhaps large language models will eventually become familiar elements of therapeutic practice. Perhaps they will sit alongside books, worksheets and other resources as tools that clients and therapists can draw upon together. If that future emerges, thoughtful approaches to contracting and governance will undoubtedly develop alongside it.

For now, however, I find myself with more questions than answers.

So, should therapists be recommending AI between sessions? At present, my answer is probably not. Not because these tools have no value, and not because I think they should be excluded from therapeutic conversations. Rather, because I am not convinced that we yet understand the practical, ethical, contractual and professional implications well enough to recommend their routine use with confidence. Until we have thought more carefully about those issues, a degree of caution feels entirely appropriate

A Hypothetical AI Contracting Statement

The following is intended purely as a thought experiment. It is not professional guidance, a recommended standard, or legal advice. Its purpose is to explore the kinds of issues that may require consideration if therapists were ever to incorporate AI tools into therapeutic work.

Use of AI-Supported Reflection Between Sessions

As part of our work together, we have discussed the possible use of a large language model (for example, ChatGPT, Claude, Copilot or similar systems) to support reflection between therapy sessions.

The purpose of using this technology is to supplement therapeutic work rather than replace it. The AI system is not acting as your therapist, and interactions with the system do not constitute therapy.

By agreeing to use this resource, we acknowledge and understand the following:

• The AI system may produce inaccurate, incomplete, misleading or inappropriate responses.

• The therapist does not control, supervise or monitor conversations that take place with the AI system unless those conversations are brought into therapy by the client.

• The AI may generate suggestions, advice or interpretations that differ from those discussed within therapy.

• Information shared with the AI system may be processed, stored or used according to the provider’s terms and conditions.

• The confidentiality protections that apply within therapy do not necessarily apply to conversations with the AI system.

• The client remains responsible for deciding what information they choose to disclose to the AI system.

• The client is free to stop using the AI system at any time without affecting access to therapy.

Agreed Purpose

The intended purpose of using the AI system is:

Agreed Limits

The AI system should not be used as:

• A crisis service.

• An emergency mental health service.

• A substitute for therapy sessions.

• A source of definitive clinical, medical, legal or financial advice.

• A replacement for seeking immediate help when there is risk of harm to self or others.

If Distress, Risk or Harm Concerns Arise

If the use of the AI system causes distress, confusion, increased anxiety or concerns about its responses, these issues should be discussed within therapy wherever possible.

If the AI system provides advice, recommendations or suggestions that could result in harm to the client or another person, those suggestions should not be acted upon solely on the basis of the AI’s response. Further discussion with an appropriate qualified professional should be sought.

If there is an immediate risk of harm to self or others, the AI system should not be relied upon for support, guidance or crisis intervention. The client should follow agreed crisis procedures and contact relevant emergency, crisis or healthcare services.

Bringing Material Back Into Therapy

Any conversations, reflections or material generated through interaction with the AI system that feel relevant, helpful, concerning or emotionally significant may be brought back into therapy for exploration and discussion.

The therapist remains responsible for the therapeutic work undertaken within sessions. The AI system is considered an optional resource that may support reflection but is not regarded as an authority or substitute for therapeutic judgement.

I think the fact that such a contract even needs to exist is part of the argument. The longer the document becomes, the more it reveals that we may be introducing something rather different to a traditional resource recommendation. That doesn’t necessarily mean therapists should never do it, but it does suggest that the implications deserve much more consideration than they often receive.

Perhaps the more important question is not whether large language models can be useful between sessions, but whether we currently understand enough about their implications to recommend them responsibly. What do you think?

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We spend much of our lives trying to improve things, solve problems, and make sense of whatever is asking for our attention.

While there is value in that, there are also moments when it can be helpful to step out of fixing mode for a while.

This Five Minute Hug offers a brief invitation to pause and spend a few moments with yourself exactly as you are. There is nothing to achieve, nothing to perfect, and nothing that needs to be resolved before you are allowed to take a breath.

Through gentle reflection and awareness, you are invited to let go of the pressure to do something with this moment and simply experience it.

Not as a task.

Not as a project.

Just as a person having a moment of space.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• Permission to let this moment be enough

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

For many people living with fatigue, rest can become surprisingly complicated.

What begins as a physical need can sometimes become entangled with expectations, responsibilities, and the feeling that we should be doing more. This guided reflection offers an opportunity to step away from those pressures for a while and explore what it might be like to rest without needing to justify it.

Through gentle reflection and awareness, you are invited to consider rest not as something that must be earned, but as a natural response to what is needed in this moment. There is nothing to prove here, nothing to achieve, and no particular way you should feel.

Just a few minutes to pause, breathe, and make a little space for yourself.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• A willingness to let this moment be enough

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.

Living with fatigue can sometimes change the relationship we have with our bodies. What was once taken for granted may require more attention, more patience, or a different pace than before.

This guided reflection offers an opportunity to pause for a while and gently reconnect with your body as it is today. Rather than striving to change anything, the invitation is simply to notice, listen, and make room for whatever is present.

Through breath, awareness, and reflection, you are encouraged to approach your body with curiosity and kindness. Not as a problem to be solved or a project to be completed, but as something living that deserves care exactly as it is.

What you may find helpful

• A quiet and comfortable space

• Headphones if preferred

• A position that supports rest, whether sitting or lying down

• A willingness to listen to your body without judgement

About The Therapeutic Pause

The Therapeutic Pause is a collection of guided reflections and restorative practices created by Terry Hanley.

These recordings offer opportunities to pause, reflect, rest, and reconnect with yourself. Collections explore ongoing experiences, life transitions, professional development, everyday moments, self-compassion, uncertainty, rest, and the challenges of everyday life.

About Terry Hanley

Terry Hanley is a Professor at the University of Manchester, a HCPC-registered Counselling Psychologist, and a Fellow of the British Psychological Society.

Further resources, writing, and information can be found at:

https://www.terryhanleypsychology.co.uk

https://counselling.substack.com

Important note

These recordings are intended as guided reflections and restorative practices and are not a substitute for healthcare or psychological support. Please listen when you are somewhere safe and able to give the recording your attention.