an hour elsewhere
Bear one another's burdens.Galatians 6:2
Most people I know are carrying more than they let on.
It's rarely one big thing. It's the slow pile-up: the job that's got too heavy, the roles that won't stop multiplying, the quiet sense that everyone else is coping better. You keep going, because that's what capable people do. But it gets loud in your head.
I don't fix it. I mostly ask questions and listen properly. And somewhere in the talking, the pile gets sorted, and it gets smaller.
I've never had much to offer but time and attention. More often than you'd think, that's enough. So I'm setting a few hours aside for it.
I'm not a therapist. I'm someone to listen, and to talk to.
- LengthAn hour. No clock-watching.
- WhereVideo, or a walk somewhere in Melbourne.
- You bringWhatever's heavy. It doesn't need to be tidy.
- You leaveWith it laid out in front of you, and probably a step or two you already knew you needed.
No packages, no follow-up sequence, nothing to sign up for. If it helped and you want another, you can book another.
Is this therapy?
No. If you're in crisis or dealing with something clinical, a psychologist is the right call, and I'll happily say so. This is for people who are fine, mostly, and carrying a bit too much.
What if I don't know what to talk about?
That's most people. We start wherever you are. Usually the real thing turns up about twenty minutes in.
Will you give me advice?
Only if you want some. Most people already know what they'd tell a friend in their position. It just helps to hear it out loud.
Who is this for?
Capable people quietly dropping plates. A lot of them work in technical jobs like mine. Nobody would guess anything's wrong, which is partly the problem.
It's usually smaller
than it feels.
Book a time
A letter each week.
What's happening in my life, and what it's teaching me. Usually something someone said, and where it took me. Plus the music and films that went with it.
For anyone carrying a lot and trying to live well anyway. Free, and short enough to read on a tram.
I'm eren, an engineer in Melbourne.
For four years I've written a letter every week about whatever life is teaching me at the time. Usually it arrives through something someone said, or a moment I nearly missed.
I'm not an expert. I'm working it out as I go, and writing it down so you don't have to work it all out alone.