Welcome to Hermind Matters.

Hermind Matters. is a reflective space created to explore the many layers of women’s lives—honestly, thoughtfully, and with care.

Here, you’ll find writing on topics that shape how we think, feel, and relate to ourselves and others. Some pieces may focus on specific challenges, such as identity, relationships, boundaries, or life transitions, while others will offer space for reflection, self-development, and gentle curiosity about the inner world.

This is a space for slowing down, making sense of things, and feeling a little less alone in the experiences we carry. Scroll down for blog posts!

Alongside these reflections, Hermind Matters will also host a “Question of the Month”—an opportunity for you to anonymously share a question, dilemma, or situation you’d like insight on. Each month, one submission will be selected and explored in a thoughtful and considered way.

Please note that while this space draws on psychological understanding, it is not a substitute for therapy or individual therapeutic advice. Instead, it offers thoughtful, compassionate reflections and general guidance for the everyday complexities of being a woman.

At its heart, Hermind Matters is about connection - to self, to others, and to the shared experiences that shape us. Whether you’re here to reflect, to learn, or simply to feel understood, you are warmly welcome.

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If you’d like to submit a question for the “Question of the Month”, you can do so via instagram direct message @hermindpsychology or fill out the form below.

June’s Question of the Month

Everyone tells me to have better boundaries, but nobody tells me how.

I'm always the person people come to when they need something. Friends ring me when they're having a crisis, colleagues ask me for favours, family members rely on me to sort things out. I know part of the problem is me because I almost always say yes. Thing is, I don't actually know how not to. People make it sound really simple. Just say no. Just put yourself first. Just set a boundary. But every time I try I end up feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I worry the other person will think I'm selfish or uncaring, and then I spend ages thinking about it afterwards anyway. A recent example was agreeing to help a colleague with something that meant giving up my evening. I didn't want to do it, I knew I didn't have the capacity, but I said yes automatically. Afterwards I was annoyed with myself, but if I'd said no I know I would have felt guilty too. Sometimes it feels like it's easier to keep making my life harder than risk disappointing someone else. I don’t know how to actually start setting boundaries when I’ve spent most of your life trying to make sure everyone around me is ok.

Exhausted (29)

Dear Exhausted,

This sounds like a difficult position to be in. It sounds as though being someone others can depend on has become an important role in your life, but one that is beginning to feel increasingly heavy.

What stood out most was your comment that you don't actually know how not to say yes. People often talk about boundaries as though they are a simple skill we either have or don't have. Yet for many people, especially those who have spent years caring for others, the challenge isn't knowing what a boundary is. It's tolerating the feelings that come with setting one.

You described agreeing to help a colleague even though you already knew you didn't have the capacity. I imagine many people reading your letter will recognise that moment. The pause where part of you knows the answer should probably be no, but the fear of disappointing someone else feels more uncomfortable than the inconvenience of saying yes.

I wonder what feels most difficult about that possibility. Is it the thought that someone might be frustrated with you? That they might think you're selfish? Or perhaps that saying no clashes with how you've come to see yourself. For many people, being dependable becomes more than a behaviour. It becomes part of their identity. When that happens, setting a boundary can feel less like declining a request and more like becoming a different person.

You also spoke about feeling guilty whenever you try to put yourself first. Guilt can be a powerful emotion, but it isn't always a sign that we've done something wrong. Sometimes guilt simply signals that we're doing something unfamiliar. If you've spent years prioritising other people, choosing yourself may feel uncomfortable precisely because it's new.

I was also struck by your comment that it sometimes feels easier to make your own life harder than risk disappointing someone else. There is something quite important in that observation. It suggests that the discomfort doesn't disappear when you say yes. It simply moves. Instead of feeling guilty for disappointing someone else, you end up feeling resentful, overwhelmed, or frustrated with yourself.

It may be helpful to think about boundaries not as a way of pushing people away, but as a way of creating more sustainable relationships. When we consistently override our own needs, resentment can quietly build beneath the surface. Boundaries can help protect against that by allowing us to show up for others from a place of choice rather than obligation.

It may also be helpful to remember that setting a boundary does not mean taking responsibility for how another person feels about it. Someone may be disappointed. They may wish your answer had been different. That doesn't mean you've done anything wrong. Part of healthy relationships involves allowing other people to have feelings without immediately trying to fix them.

The fact that you're asking this question suggests that something within you already recognises that the current way of doing things is no longer working. The challenge now may not be learning how to care less about others, but learning how to care about yourself with the same compassion and consideration that you so readily offer everyone else.

Your mind matters 🩷

- Hermind Matters

May’s Question of the Month

Am I asking for too much or settling for too little?

I've been seeing someone for a few months now and overall things are good. He's kind, we get on well, I enjoy spending time with him and there aren't really any major issues. But I keep finding myself wondering whether something is missing and I genuinely can't work out if that's because it is, or because I'm overthinking. For example, he isn't particularly affectionate, doesn't really ask many questions, and can be quite happy not speaking much between seeing each other. When we're together it's lovely, but sometimes I come away feeling a bit flat and I'm not sure why. The problem is I don't trust my own judgement anymore. If I talk to my friends half of them tell me I'm settling and the other half tell me I've found a nice guy and need to stop looking for problems. I spend so much time trying to work out what the ‘right’ answer is that I've completely lost sight of how I actually feel.

I know no relationship is perfect, and I don't want to throw away something good because I'm chasing an unrealistic idea of what a relationship should feel like. But equally, I don't want to ignore my doubts and regret it further down the line. I’m confused. How do you know if you're asking for too much, or settling for too little?

Unsure (26)

Dear Unsure,

I can see why this feels confusing. What stands out most in your letter is not necessarily the uncertainty about the relationship itself, but the uncertainty about your own feelings. It sounds as though you've spent a lot of time trying to work out what the "right" answer is, and in the process you've become increasingly disconnected from your own perspective.

The situation you describe can be particularly difficult because there isn't an obvious problem to point to. You speak warmly about this person. He's kind, you enjoy spending time together, and there are no major issues. Yet there are also moments where you leave feeling flat, disconnected, or as though something is missing. When concerns are subtle rather than clear-cut, it can be much harder to know what to do with them.

I wonder what those moments of feeling "flat" are like for you. Sometimes our emotional reactions can offer important information, even when we don't fully understand them. That doesn't necessarily mean they are telling us to leave a relationship, but they may be highlighting a need, longing, or value that hasn't yet been put into words. It can be tempting to dismiss those feelings because they seem less tangible than a specific problem, but they are still worthy of attention.

You also mentioned receiving very different advice from friends. Whilst it's natural to seek reassurance from people we trust, there can come a point where too many opinions leave us feeling even more confused. One person sees a kind and reliable partner and encourages gratitude. Another sees your doubts and worries you're settling. Neither person is living inside your experience of the relationship. At some point, the challenge becomes less about gathering more information and more about reconnecting with your own sense of what feels important to you.

As I read your letter, I found myself wondering whether you're trying to answer a question that may not have a definitive answer. Relationships rarely come with certainty. We often hope there will be a moment when we know for sure whether our concerns are significant enough, whether our standards are reasonable, or whether we've found the right person. In reality, many people make relationship decisions whilst still holding some uncertainty.

You ask how to tell the difference between asking for too much and settling for too little. I wonder whether a slightly different question might be helpful: "Do I feel able to bring my needs into this relationship?" The fact that you would like more affection, curiosity, or connection does not automatically mean you're asking for too much. Equally, it doesn't necessarily mean the relationship is wrong for you. Often what matters most is whether those needs can be communicated openly and whether there is room for them to be understood and responded to.

At Hermind, we often see people become caught between two fears: the fear of losing something good, and the fear of staying somewhere that isn't quite right. Both fears are understandable. The difficulty is that neither can be completely eliminated. Learning to trust yourself often involves accepting that uncertainty is part of the process, rather than waiting until all uncertainty disappears.

For now, it may be worth gently turning your attention away from what everyone else thinks and towards your own experience. Not whether you should be happy. Not whether other people would be happy. Simply how it feels to be you in this relationship.

Your mind matters 🩷

- Hermind Matters

April’s Question of the Month

Pregnancy is not my whole personality, but people are treating me like it is.

I’m currently 25 weeks pregnant, which I’m very grateful for and happy about. However, I also feel a sense of loss for the life I currently have, as once the baby comes nothing will ever be the same again. Despite really wanting this, I don’t feel as excited now as everyone seems to want me to be. Every conversation anyone has with me now, centres around me being pregnant and they ask me ‘are you excited?!’, to which I provide all the performative answers I think I should respond with. It makes me feel like a fraud. I get asked different questions about the pregnancy, which I know comes from a place of love and care, but it feels like no one asks me about anything else anymore. I’ve also never felt so isolated and lonely, and the fake conversations I’m having with people I don’t think are helping with that. I’m not sure how to get my sense of connection back with people, and would appreciate reflections/thoughts on how I might do that.

Feeling Lost (32)

Dear Feeling Lost,

Thank you for sharing this. What you’re describing is a difficult but common experience, even if it’s not often spoken about. Pregnancy can hold both anticipation and a sense of loss at the same time, a recognition that life as you know it is going to change in ways that are difficult to fully grasp. Wanting this and feeling unsettled by it are not contradictions, they’re part of the same experience.

It sounds like what has been particularly difficult is how others are relating to you. When conversations consistently centre around the baby, it can begin to feel as though your identity has been reduced to this one part of you. It’s okay to want to be recognised as more than your pregnancy. Your identity hasn’t disappeared, it’s expanding and shifting, and it’s natural to want that to be acknowledged by others. Even when it comes from care, being repeatedly asked if you’re excited can feel quite narrowing, as though there is only one acceptable emotional response, leaving little space for anything more complex.

I’m wondering what it is about those interactions that feels most activating for you. Sometimes it’s not just the question itself, but what sits underneath it, perhaps a sense of not being fully seen, a pressure to respond in a certain way, or something about the reality of change being brought into sharper focus. It can sometimes touch on quieter, less spoken-about thoughts around motherhood itself, such as fears, uncertainty, or questions about what this new role might mean for you and your identity.

You also spoke about feeling isolated and lonely, which feels important to explore. When conversations feel surface-level or performative, it can create distance rather than connection. It might be helpful to gently reflect on what feels difficult about sharing your feelings with those closest to you. You might be wondering how they will respond, or what it might mean about you if you’re not feeling how you think you “should”. These are common concerns, especially when it may feel like there are strong expectations around what pregnancy is meant to feel like. Rebuilding that sense of connection might not require big changes, but small moments of honesty with people who feel safe enough. Allowing yourself to share something a little closer to how you actually feel, rather than what’s expected of you, can begin to open up more genuine connection.

At Hermind, we think a lot about the role of community in moments like this. Many expectant mothers have similar thoughts and feelings, even if they are not always openly shared. It can be hard to connect when it feels like the only emotion being expressed by others is excitement. Finding those within a community who you can relate to, and who can hold space for a fuller range of experiences, can be really helpful in reducing that sense of isolation.

Alongside this, it might be helpful to think about what helps you feel like you outside of the pregnancy, and how you might bring more of that into your conversations with others. This could be as simple as sharing parts of your life that feel important to you or gently guiding conversations beyond the baby. People are often well-intentioned, but may not realise how focused their questions have become. Staying connected to your interests, routines, or sense of self can help maintain a feeling of continuity during a time that can sometimes feel consuming.

Finally, it’s worth saying that there is nothing wrong with how you’re feeling. Big life changes rarely come with just one emotion. It’s okay for things to feel complicated. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels that way at times.

Your mind matters 🩷

- Hermind Matters