Author name: Andy Good

One of the more inconvenient things about self-awareness is that once you see something about yourself, you can’t really unsee it. You notice the impatience. The need to be right. The tendency to overthink something that probably didn’t require quite so much thinking. The desire for things to go according

I like a plan. I like knowing what time we are leaving, how long it should take, what happens next, and whether there is enough time to get a coffee before boarding. None of this seems particularly unreasonable to me. Reality, unfortunately, does not always share my commitment to the

I have been sitting with a question lately: When did everything become so serious? Not because seriousness is inherently a problem. There are responsibilities that deserve our full attention. Some difficulties cannot be laughed away, some obligations must be met, and some moments call for being grounded and deliberate. But

There is a particular kind of discomfort that comes with realizing we may have been wrong. Not wrong in a dramatic or unforgivable way. Not wrong in a way that makes us terrible people. Just wrong in the ordinary human sense. We misunderstood someone.We reacted too quickly.We assumed we knew

I notice my impatience most clearly in ordinary places. A slow queue. A delayed appointment. Someone walking ahead of me at a pace that does not match my own sense of urgency. Nothing dramatic is happening. No real harm is being done. And yet something in me tightens. The thoughts

I tell myself I should be going to the gym at least three or four times a week. When I do, I feel more like myself. I feel clearer, steadier, and more capable of meeting the day. So when I miss a session, or several, disappointment arrives quickly. It rarely

What we often call patterns are rarely random. In the Compassionate Inquiry® approach, they are understood as adaptations. Ways of relating, protecting, and seeking relief that once made sense within the conditions a person was living in. Attachment patterns, coping strategies, and addictive behaviours do not emerge in isolation. They

Artificial intelligence often enters therapeutic work quietly. Not as a central focus, but as a background presence—supporting notes, organizing information, or highlighting recurring language that might otherwise go unnoticed. For many practitioners, the initial questions are practical.  Does this save time? Is it accurate? Is it secure?  Yet over time,

Artificial intelligence (AI) is becoming an increasingly visible presence in the world of mental health. From scheduling tools and automated notes to chatbots and emotion-analysis software, AI is often featured as a way to improve efficiency, accessibility, or insight. Yet for therapists, coaches, and other practitioners, the arrival of AI