Gosia Counselling

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I help women who grew up with a distant mother stop doubting themselves and keep everyone happy - so they can trust themselves and feel more secure in their relationships.

Let me tell you something I see again and again in my work.A woman sits across from me and tells me her relationships ar...
17/07/2026

Let me tell you something I see again and again in my work.
A woman sits across from me and tells me her relationships are fine.
No conflict.
No arguments.
Everyone gets along.
And yet she cannot relax.
The minute she feels someone pull away,
she is certain she has done something wrong.

A good mother gets it wrong.
Often.
She misreads the signal.
She snaps when she is tired.
She misses the moment her child needed her most.
This is real mother not a doll or mannequin - fawless, and lifeless.

What makes a bond secure was never getting it right every time.
It is what happens after.
She notices.
She comes back.
Together, they fix it.
And the child learns something that will hold her for life: a rupture is not the end. Anger can be survived.
The other person does not disappear.

But maybe no one came back for you.
Maybe the silence after a rupture just stretched — until you learned to repair everything yourself, quickly, quietly, before anyone could leave.

So now your relationships look peaceful.
But look closer.
It is not peace.
It is you — absorbing every disagreement before it can surface.
Holding the tension in your body.
Covering the humiliation with a joke, a little sarcasm, so no one sees it landed. Swallowing the no.
Apologising first.
Keeping the bond smooth by erasing your experience/reality.

A bond that has never been tested is not strong.
It is fragile — and some part of you knows it.
Real closeness is not the absence of rupture.
It is the lived proof that the two of you can break something — and mend it.
Again and again.

You can still learn this.
In a friendship.
In a partnership.
In the therapy room.

Because the conflict you avoid with others does not disappear.
Avoiding the fight with others - externally,
You end up fighting yourself - internally

Gosia Miernik 2026 ©

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10/07/2026

I climbed without deciding to climb — my hands moved first,
searching the dead roots for something to hold.
The camera follows the hands, not the view.

I have never understood the preparation for making work.
I read — that is my inspiration.
I meditate.
I observe.
That is the ground underneath.
But the work itself is never planned.
It happens in a moment.
In a second.
It asks only one thing of me: pay attention and follow.

I walk.
I respond.
I follow the movement from within.

Only later, looking back at the footage, did the insight arrive.
This is how the unconscious communicates — image before word.
The knowing was already there, in the gesture.
My conscious mind simply caught up.
And when it did,
I could not deny it:
What does it mean to seek support in something that no longer has life?

My dual positioning as artist and psychotherapist means
I cannot separate this gesture from the therapeutic work.
The image carried the meaning before I could speak it — and in looking back,
It became mine.

So I am left with questions:
Why did my hands move before I understood?
What did my body know that my mind had not yet caught up with?
Can attention itself be the artwork?

And what happens if we trust the movement from within — before we can explain it?

Ku mojemu życiu i moim projektom.
Gosia Miernik 2026 ©
Poland, Work in progress.

There is something I notice, over and over, in my work with women who grew up with emotionally distant mothers.Long befo...
05/07/2026

There is something I notice, over and over, in my work with women who grew up with emotionally distant mothers.
Long before she could name a single feeling of her own,
each of them learned the same skill:
checking her mother's face first.

Maybe you know it too.

When mother was relaxed and smiling,
the world was right.
You could breathe.
You could be loud, silly, expansive — a child.

When she was worried,
distracted, somewhere far away behind her eyes
There was no room for your happiness.
It felt wrong to be light when she was heavy.

So you learned another job instead:
Cheering her up.
Putting on the happy face.
Making your joy about her relief.

Pause here for a moment.
Do you recognise her?
The problem-solver
The fixer.
The cheerleader.

Because then she grew up and went out into the world
like the little match girl from the old story.
Only this one strikes her matches for everyone but herself.

Over-doing.
Over-extending.
Over-giving.
Over-sharing.
Over and over and over.

Everyone around you warm and glowing.
And you — still in the dark,
holding the last match,
wondering why no one thinks to light one for you.

And there is something quieter she does, too.
When something good finally arrives
the opportunity,
the rest,
the ease
she finds a way to spoil it.

Not on purpose.
You may not even see her doing it.
Because somewhere very deep,
older than words,
being happy when mother wasn't still feels wrong.

That is not who you are. It is what you learned.
Her happiness was never yours to hold.
And yours was never meant to wait for hers.
Gosia Miernik 2025 ©

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Tuesday 10am - 12pm
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Friday 10am - 1pm
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