Was it really “the good old days?”
Ration cards and allotments were the order of the day in the war and for several years after. Counselling and therapy certainly were not, in fact I believe that professional counselling was almost unheard of and Psychotherapy was something for those who were extremely disturbed or quite wealthy.
How different from today, when, here in Britain we have almost reached the point, that the US was at several years ago, where having a therapist is something to boast about and discuss with friends.
This change of view has got me questioning why this should be. I wonder if it has something to do with survival. In the post-war years the population had a sense of euphoria from the release of the wartime tension and the removal of the threat of a bomb dropping and destroying their home and for the lucky ones the return of their loved ones. They were all pulling together to make a living and to get back some semblance of “normal” life. It was much more about the physical than the psychological – getting and holding down a job and putting food on the table.
Relatively, speaking those fears have now been removed and, for the majority of people their basic needs are being met. The philosophy of life is about climbing the ladder and getting personal satisfaction and personal goals achieved.
It may seem that I am saying that the problems being brought to therapy are trivial, far from it, I wonder if the emotional and psychological elements of our life are more disturbing and stressful than ever before. The camaraderie, and with it the feeling of pulling together with your neighbour are no longer there, now you are left to pursue your own goals and very often this can cause depression and anxiety.
Many people who come to see me, who are depressed and anxious, talk about feeling very alone and isolated even though they may be in a relationship. My role is a nurturing one to help them get back control in their lives and to test out some of the assumptions that have been making them anxious.
That leads me to another question, “were people happier in the early post-war years, when they had to make-do and mend, but had the comfort of their neighbours close by who were in a similar position and who were willing to share their food and friendship?”
Madeleine Richardson

Should we be able to decide when to die?
When I watched the very moving Terry Pratchett lecture a couple of days ago, it struck a chord with me and I was certain that if I had a debilitating illness that required someone else to look after my every bodily need, I would want to leave this world. If I was unable to achieve this alone and one of my loved ones bravely agreed to carry out this final service for me, I would certainly not want them prosecuted.
I wasn’t sure about the deciding body being a Tribunal, but I was definitely clear that I would like to be able to decide when the time was right to go.
Then I watched Question Time and was shocked that three out of the four members of the panel were absolutely against such a decision. The thing that struck a chord with me, this time, was the point raised by one of the members who said that sometimes people who are deeply depressed or suffering from bipolar, regardless of age, may decide they have had enough and, at that moment, want to die. The important words are “at that moment” because, as a Therapist, I have worked with clients who have been at this point.
I work a lot with depression and am aware that a number of them, not the majority, I am pleased to say, talk to me about ending it all and escaping from the terrible hopelessness that they feel.
It takes enormous courage to end a life, even at that low point, they say that they haven’t the courage. However, supposing they could ask someone else to do it for them – I wonder if they would.
I view this prospect with great concern, because my experience is that if I can stay with them and encourage them to do even the smallest task the chances are that they will start to see a glimmer at the end of the tunnel. Additionally, although I am not a pill fan, modern science has now produced a number of short-term antidepressants, that are not addictive and can lift the person’s spirits just enough so that they can start to benefit from the therapy.
Where does that leave me? Two opposing views, both with great merit. Depression aside, I still believe that one should be able to end a life which has lost its quality and will inevitably end in complete disablement and or death.

Madeleine Richardson

We all face dilemmas every day, dealing with the difficulties of making decisions and fearing that we may make the wrong decision, which for some people keeps them trapped in indecision – which of course is a decision by default.
Few of us can have faced the life and death dilemma of Kay Gildersdale. How brave she was to help release her daughter from the living hell that she had been in for years. It has made me question whether I would be able to act as she did if one of my daughters was in such a position.
There is always that thought that tomorrow she may begin to recover or medical science may make a breakthrough and find a cure. I am sure that the loss of hope is the hardest thing to come to terms with.
I also believe that in not allowing someone we love to die, we are keeping them alive for us rather than any benefit to them. Their quality of life, they might say, has gone and they want to be gone too.
I am less clear about taking such a decision when the patient is not able to make the request or give informed consent as in the case of the mother who injected her unconscious son, when to her and the doctors there was no hope of recovery.
Whilst I understand that this case needed to be investigated, to rule out criminal intent, I think this was a case that merited the same compassion that was forthcoming in the first case.
This mother required a greater courage because she really did have to make the decision alone without being fully aware of what her son would have wanted and how do any of us know how we might react in similar circumstances.


Madeleine Richardson