The door’s not locked: Letting go of the therapy that saved my life
by Genevieve Lowles It was a Friday in May when I made the phone call. A bright and dusty morning, I’d just passed the crowded entrance of Stockwell tube station in London. There are so many people, full of direction and purpose. I’m on the way to work, because it’s 8:30 in the morning, and that’s what I do at that time. My head is full of voices, wordless chattering and the sound of my own uneven breathing. It churns…