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resources to cope

Meaningfulness — life feels worth investing in

Antonovsky argued that these three elements shape how we deal with stress. The key is not eliminating difficulty, but the development of an in-built sense of stability while all around us becomes chaotic.  

A strong SOC doesn’t mean being endlessly (and toxically) positive. It means being able to say: “I understand what’s happening. I can handle it. And it matters to me that I try.” This sense of coherence is likely to  predict resilience, mental health, and even physical wellbeing. It is a surprisingly consistent measure across various cultures and life stages.

In a world that often feels pointless and our sense of connection is fragmented, Antonovsky’s message is borderline controversial - wellbeing is not the absence of stress and illness, it is based on coherence, often based on emotional safety.  

Photo from - Krause, C. (2011). Developing sense of coherence in educational contexts: Making progress in promoting mental health in children. International Review of Psychiatry, 23(6), 525–532. https://doi.org/10.3109/09540261.2011.637907

improving the lot of single mums, making a case for tackling poverty and inequality in all its forms, and there is absolutely a place for her in public life to share her experiences and tell her story and make a difference.”

She called for “a bit of kindness, a bit of generosity of spirit, a willingness to get into the grey area to talk about these things calmly. To try and find common ground is the only path through this and it’s one that I’m committed to.”

Why these comments ? Because Stonewall feels it is losing money if they back trans people too much. 

Here are some examples of the "...bit of kindness, a bit of generosity of spirit" JK is capable of. 

Forget about her saying - "There are no trans kids. No child is "born" in the wrong body", forget about gender fluid folk being just "men who likes to dress in women's clothes". Here is a complete tweet.

"As another man who once worked with me declares himself saddened by my beliefs on gender and sex, I thought it might be useful to compile a list for handy reference. Which of the following do you imagine makes actors and directors who aren’t involved with the HBO reboot of Harry Potter so miserable?

Is it my belief that women and girls should have their own public changing rooms and bathrooms?

That women should retain female-only rape crisis centres?

That men don’t belong in women’s sport?

That female prisoners shouldn’t be incarcerated with violent men and male sex offenders?

That women should remain a protected class in law, because they have sex-specific needs and issues?

That language should reflect reality rather than ideological jargon, especially in a medical context?

That women shouldn’t be harassed, persecuted or fired for refusing to pretend humans can change sex?

That women should not be threatened with violence and rape when they assert their rights?

That freedom of speech and belief are essential to a pluralistic democratic society?

That troubled minors, especially those who are gay, autistic and trauma-experienced, should be given mental health support instead of irreversible surgeries and drug treatments on non-existent evidence of benefit?

That gay people shouldn’t be pressured to include the opposite sex in their dating pools, nor should they be smeared as ‘genital fetishists’ when they don’t?

That cross-dressing heterosexual male fetishists aren’t actually oppressed, but having the time of their lives piggybacking off gender identity ideology?

That said ideology, and the privileged, blinkered fools pushing it because they suffer zero consequences themselves, have done more damage to the political left’s credibility than Trump and Farage could have achieved in a century?"

I can only ask - how is it possible, short of selling out trans people for donations, that a chief of a LGBTQIA+ organisation is able to defend this? 

Trans kids deserve better. 

that the rest of us prop him up. We need to accept our collective roles in this.

Extreme Views Don’t Appear In Isolation

But maybe it was ever thus. Patriarchy, in its infancy, was built on the desire to ensure that the offspring one begot were truly theirs. Then it evolved into a scramble for resources and dominance. Darwin’s ideas on evolution provided the perfect context for the modern man – survival of the fittest, dominance, competition, emotional detachment. It did not even matter that what Darwin meant by survival of the fittest was not puritan coldness. Nevertheless, these ideas did create the basis for the modern man, caught in the historical narrative of being strong and dominant and societal change where other behaviours are also celebrated. I have heard tell so many times that some men yearn for the age where men were men – whatever that may mean. The modern man is at a crossroads – the burden of the past dominance facing the increasing need for kindness and cooperation. When that pressure to choose a path becomes too great, men often feel left out, misunderstood, lonely and confused, angry.  

Well, I hope I can alleviate some of these pressures. Prof. Penny Spikins is a well know anthropologist who casts serious doubt over this dog-eat-dog agenda. Her latest book- ‘Hidden Depths’ follows on from her original ‘How Compassion Made Us Human: The Evolutionary Origins of Tenderness, Trust & Morality’ and it explores how emotional connection shaped human evolution, emphasizing care, empathy, and social bonds as survival strategies.

What Anthropological Research Shows  

Spikins argues in her work that emotional capacities—like empathy, compassion, and care—were not just byproducts of evolution but central to human survival and development. These traits helped early humans adapt to changing environments and form resilient social groups. She provides some key insights in which men as well as women play a significant part as follows:

• Care for the vulnerable (e.g., injured or disabled individuals) was a turning point in human evolution, suggesting emotional intelligence long before language or tools.

• Social emotions like guilt, shame, and love evolved to maintain group cohesion and regulate behaviour.

• Symbolic expression (art, burial, ornamentation) reflects emotional depth and shared meaning-making.

• Comparisons with other social mammals (like elephants and primates) highlight how ecological stress can foster emotional adaptation.

In this way, Spikins challenges the traditional view of evolution as driven solely by competition and survival of the fittest. Instead, she presents a compelling case for connection, care, and emotional depth as evolutionary advantages. In other words, we are the product on cooperation not singularly due to dominance and conflict. In denying this side of themselves, men are essentially trying to deny their own evolution.  

The Role of Trans Men in Rethinking Masculinity

This is gap between nature and nurture; is where trans men are so needed. They can really help in re-writing the macho man, alpha male narratives. Trans men can help reshape masculinity by modelling versions of manhood that are empathetic, inclusive, and non-threatening, challenging toxic stereotypes while expanding what masculinity can mean. In essence they are bringing it closer to its evolutionary roots.  

A Practical Message For Men

Considering the above, this is my message to the men I work with: you can be assertive without being aggressive, you can state your needs without being a bully, you can be kind and vulnerable without being weak or ‘woke’ (whatever that is). Ultimately it is rising beyond the reductive societal pressures and engage in genuine human connection with others. It is what makes you human.  

References:  

Spikins, P. (2015). How compassion made us human - the evolutionary origins of tenderness, trust. Pen & Sword Books Ltd.

Spikins, P. (2022). Hidden depths : the origins of human connection. York, U.K.: White Rose University Press.

one on the brake.

At its core, terminal ambivalence is a protective strategy. If change feels strange and unsafe, even risky - potential loss, rejection, exposure, or failure—the psyche may respond by suspending choice altogether. The ambivalence becomes a buffer, a way of avoiding the emotional consequences of committing to a path. Yet the longer it persists, the more it becomes its own source of suffering. The person is not spared pain; they are simply trapped in a different kind of it.

This situation often takes place when people have developed in constant state of emotional uncertainty. They want to approach but fear to do so. Rejection feels painful but certain while acceptance is full of doubt.  For trauma survivors, ambivalence can be so familiar: wanting closeness but fearing vulnerability, craving change but anticipating danger, longing for authenticity while fearing the cost of being seen. For queer and marginalised individuals, terminal ambivalence may reflect the tension between internal truth and external expectations. And for anyone navigating major life transitions, it can surface as the quiet dread of choosing “wrong,” as though one decision could collapse the entire self. Unfortunately, this fear of getting it wrong is something I see too often.  

What makes terminal ambivalence so psychologically potent is that both sides of the internal conflict are usually valid. The part that wants to move forward is responding to the desire to grown and be seen. The part that resists is responding to memory, caution, and lived experience. Neither is irrational. Both are trying to protect the person in different ways. The suffering comes not from the presence of these parts, but from their existential stalemate.

Recognising terminal ambivalence is often the first step toward loosening its grip. When people realise that their paralysis is not a personal flaw but a meaningful emotional signal, the shame begins to lose its grip. As therapists we are not here to force the client into one decision or another but to create a framework for understanding. In this context ambivalence is not the enemy but needs a safe space to develop into and transform itself – like a butterfly from a cocoon.

Contrary to the way it feels, terminal ambivalence is not an end but a checkpoint. It is a third space where people negotiate with themselves about the sort of person they wish to become. A therapist needs to recognise and understand this dynamic equilibrium and essentially mediate between the various aspect of the client’s lived experience and in doing so try and see if there is an entry point in the change cycle that feels safe enough to consider.  

it is just a mirror. It reflects back whatever someone brings to it: curiosity, loneliness, imagination, fear, or rage. When someone approaches AI with degrading fantasies, dehumanizing language, or a desire for control, the system doesn’t challenge them the way a human might. It doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t set boundaries. It doesn’t say “no.” For people already inclined toward entitlement, misogyny or transphobia, this can create a dangerous feedback loop. They rehearse cruelty in a consequence‑free environment, and the rehearsal makes them hungry for more. As a man, I am comfortable to admit that statistically, the people engaging in this abuse, are likely to be men who look like me.  

Sex workers often become the target of this displaced aggression. They are accessible, visible, and socially stigmatised; conditions that make them easy targets for people who feel powerless or disenfranchised elsewhere. When someone spends hours using AI to simulate domination, degradation, or violence, the line between fantasy and entitlement can blur. The person begins to expect compliance in all walks of life. They begin to believe they are owed something. When a real human being—one with boundaries, needs, and autonomy—doesn’t match the script, the frustration spills outward. Sex workers have always been on the front lines of society’s unresolved issues: shame, desire, control, loneliness, and moral panic. AI simply adds a new layer to this. It gives people a private arena to explore impulses they would never admit publicly, and then those impulses leak into real interactions with real people who deserve safety and respect. This is something we see increasingly in some video games too (the photo adjacent is taken from CyberPunk 2077 where a player can visit a sex worker called JoyToy).  

The impact on sex workers as I hear it, is significant. They do not just have to face demands which they find increasingly unable to cope with but also increased hostility from clients who have been conditioned by AI to expect instant gratification and no limits. They are expected to deal with someone’s dehumanisation fantasy without consent, negotiation, communications or boundaries. AI never requires these things.  

I have not yet heard of sex workers being included in any conversation about AI ethics, despite being a population which is in the front line of feeling the impact. As usual they carry the darkest burdens of our society without ever being involved in the places where policies are shaped.  All I can say, when talking to my clients, is that they deserve better.  

family gatherings, the expectation to perform happiness can be exhausting. Those who are grieving, struggling financially, or simply not in the mood are often sidelined by a cultural script that demands cheerfulness. The season’s “mandatory joy” can amplify feelings of isolation rather than connection. There is nothing worse than living a simulation of happiness when you are far from being in that space.  

What began as a pagan celebrations of natural progression, hi-jacked by religious and communal observances has been steadily reshaped by the culture of 'giving' and by definition 'receiving'. Christmas has become a marketplace spectacle: sales campaigns, gift‑giving rituals, and the commodification of “holiday spirit.” The symbols of generosity and togetherness are repackaged into products, while corporations profit from the pressure to buy, decorate, and indulge. Christmas has also become political about fake outrage over the use of the word and the 'wokeness' of not buying into it.

Acknowledging this tension doesn’t mean rejecting Christmas altogether. It means reclaiming its meaning beyond consumption, appreciating presence over presents, authenticity over performance. Acts of quiet reflection, community care, or even choosing not to celebrate can be radical gestures against the enforced jollity and capitalist appropriation. The meaning of Christmas is not universal, it is not a mandatory obligation but it should be up to each and every one of us to experience it as we feel.  

Christmas, then, is not only about joy but also about questioning whose joy is being sold, and at what cost. In resisting the pressure to conform, we rediscover the possibility of a season rooted in honesty, solidarity, and genuine connection. Or not... The point is not to buy into any rhetoric, including mine, but to build your own experience as you see fit, without rejection or fear of disapproval. 

is Ashley’s writing; it is both accessible and rigorous. She traces the etymology of “slut” and its shifting meanings across centuries, revealing how language has been used to police the female body and silence dissent. From medieval morality to modern media, she shows how slutshaming is not just about sex—it’s about power, control, and hoarding of resources. 

What makes Sluts especially compelling is its refusal to treat slutshaming as something that used to happen in the past and to other people. Ashley shows us it is very much present and it is here and now and holds a mirror to us as a society. She argues that despite progress in sexual openness, this shaming persists—often disguised as concern, judgment, or “common sense.” Whether through influencer culture, political rhetoric, or everyday gossip, the book reveals how slutshaming adapts to new platforms and continues to harm those who defy normative expectations.

The book is rich with interviews, case studies, and cultural references. Ashley includes voices from across the gender spectrum, highlighting how slutshaming intersects with race, class, queerness, and disability. This intersectional lens is vital: it shows that while all women are vulnerable to sexual stigma, marginalized groups face compounded scrutiny and violence.

I liked the emphasis on reclamation and it reminded me of how 'queer' was reclaimed by the LGBTQIA+ community. Rather than simply condemning the term “slut,” she explores how some have embraced it as a badge of resistance. This reclamation is not universal, and Ashley is careful not to romanticize it—but she treats it as a valid, empowering choice for those who find strength in subversion.

Sluts is a must-read for anyone interested in gender justice, media literacy, or sexual ethics. It’s especially relevant for therapists, educators, and activists seeking to understand how shame operates—and how to dismantle it. As Laura Whitmore put it, “I wish I read this when I was younger”.

fascism, the public response was disturbingly muted. The Metropolitan Police reported no offences. No major political figures condemned the march. And while some passers-by booed, their voices were drowned out by chants and silence from institutions that should have stood up.

Soho isn’t just a nightlife hub—it’s a symbol of queer resilience. It’s where generations have gathered to feel safe, seen, and celebrated. To have that space invaded by a group accusing the community of immorality is not just offensive—it’s dangerous. It sends a message that queer joy is still up for debate, that religious extremism can masquerade as moral protest, and that public safety is conditional.

The lack of outcry reveals a deeper issue: the normalization of intolerance when it’s cloaked in religious or “traditional” values. The King’s Army didn’t just march—they performed a spectacle of dominance. Their uniforms, formation, and slogans weren’t random. They were designed to intimidate, to reclaim public space from queer visibility, and to test how far they could go without consequence.

And they succeeded.

This silence isn’t just passive. It’s complicit. It tells LGBTQIA+ people that their safety is negotiable, that their spaces can be invaded without recourse, and that hate—when dressed in scripture—is tolerable. It’s a reminder that progress isn’t linear, and that visibility doesn’t guarantee protection.

We need more than reactive outrage. We need proactive solidarity. That means public officials speaking out, media framing these events accurately, and communities showing up—not just when it’s convenient, but when it’s uncomfortable. It means recognizing that “Jesus saves” shouted in a queer space isn’t neutral—it’s a weaponized slogan when paired with accusations of immorality.

Soho deserves better. The LGBTQIA+ community deserves better. And the rest of us—whether allies, advocates, or simply decent humans—must ask: when hate marches through our streets, will we stand by, or will we stand up?

(photo from Yahoo news)

In this, it is like what Sartre said (I think) which is that the way we look occurs the moment we become aware of another’s gaze. When by ourselves and ‘unseen’ by others our presentation, our understanding of ourselves can be free and self-directed, what Sartre terms “being-for-itself.” But under scrutiny, under observation, that same self-awareness or self-definition is then reframed as “being-in-itself,” an entity defined by someone else’s perspective. This shift reveals that our subjective view of ourselves is never wholly self-sufficient but always vulnerable to external definition.

It is this vulnerability to external critique that I often discuss with clients and that defines the parameters of their well-being. At times, it is the cornerstone of our therapeutic relationship encapsulated in Sartre’s remark, “I see myself because somebody sees me.” We can work together the moment they realise ‘I see them’.  Well-being for my queer clients is not always rooted in self-awareness, which is solid, but a byproduct of interpersonal vision. It is unfortunate that for them, when they realise they are looked at in public, they have to adopt the other’s vantage point, reconfiguring their body, behaviour, and freeze in anticipation of their judgment. What we are working on is the idea that this external ‘looking at’ should lose some of this potency; well-being thus springing from reducing the compulsion of becoming what we imagine the observer perceives us to be.

Crucially and unavoidably, for my queer clients out in the world and away from their own tribe, ‘the looked at’ leads to objectification. Society often views queer people as static, reducing their vibrancy and flexibility to a label to be categorized and known. As such, as Sartre would argue, this classification reduces queer people well-being and freedom.  Their potential choices are censored and filtered through the lens of how they think the observer defines them. I will give you an example – a trans male client of mine – who looks too young for his age (and does not live in the UK) – is reducing his world to activities where he does not need to ID himself, thus avoiding ‘the look’. He cannot order coffee in a Starbucks because of his youthful underage appearance, he is asked to produce ID, which is currently in his dead name and gender, and is tired of sparking an argument about how he is committing fraud. In class, when the register is called, unless he answers when called in his dead name, he is marked as absent.  He is then caught in the paradox of his teacher ‘looking’ straight at him which confirms his existence and it simultaneously constraining his capacity to define himself in his own terms.  

Sartre’s most famous observation was that “hell is other people”. In the age of ever-present cameras, social media, CCTV and other surveillance methods, ‘hell’ is more than just other people; it is unavoidable judgement, objectification and shaming. I feel that my conversations with my clients about their well-being must go further than authenticity, they need to include the ethics of how we seen others but also how we reclaim our self-definition when being seen.

(piece as seen in Embrace: Living your best Queer Life - please also check out that excellent online zine)