When I was a little girl, I used to escape from my painful childhood by retreating to my bedroom and cocooning myself inside a nest of pink blankets and pillows. I felt safe in a space that never really was.

Today, I dragged myself into town to walk around the shops; as I did, I found a lovely, big soft pink blanket on sale. I felt so drawn to it.

Now I’m home, I’ve nestled myself in the corner of the sofa where I can hide away from the world. I’ve put the fire on, closed the curtains, stacked pillows all around me, and I’m wrapped in the pink blanket. I don’t feel safe, and I don’t feel better, but I do feel comforted – just slightly.

Once again, I’m back to cocooning while I try to get through this turmoil that has hit my life.