There are many kinds of loss. Bereavement is the first one we think of but there are other ways we can experience loss, such as a job, our health, our freedom, a relationship, our future as we know it. Dealing with grief and loss can be very hard, even if someone has not died.

During this difficult time, there are some practical safety planning steps that you can take and arrange to reduce the risk of harm if you are experiencing domestic abuse.

Jan is almost the last member of staff to be introduced via this Blog…

With the festive season upon us, and inspired by the numerous donations we’ve received…

At My Sisters’ House, we are divided; there are the Huggers, and there are…

“My Sisters’ House” – it’s the Women’s Centre we all know and love. But the name…

I’m not going to lie, a fair amount of crying goes on at My Sisters’ House…

Seven familiar women sit around a small kitchen table. The oak lines of its surface…

Five years. A lot can happen in five years, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days…

On Friday 16th August 2019, special guest Dame Julie Walters visited My Sisters’ House to celebrate the fifth anniversary and official opening of the new centre in Bognor Regis. During Julie’s time at the centre I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to talk with her and ask several questions in a private interview.

If I were to ask you to pick a colour to depict your mood what would you say? Navy, peach, or perhaps just beige? Maybe you’re feeling lavender, and have been for a couple of weeks, simply because you like the colour.

Lucy was a young teenager when she first heard about My Sisters’ House. At the very same kitchen table the idea of the women’s centre was formed, Lucy once poured cereal, spilled juice, and ate dinner. To Lucy, My Sisters’ House was raised alongside her, originating in her family home.

She rushes along the pavement, clasping the small, squirming hands of her young children behind her as the group hurries to school. Across her body a pair of bookbags, lunchboxes, and a plastic bag containing a papier-mâché class project have been slung.

The room is a blur of pink, piled plastic drawers, and perfume; the floral scent surrounds Jo as she settles herself at her desk. She shows me several potential photos for the blog, unsure herself of whether the Minnie Mouse ears or glitter selfie would be better.

Healthcare, holidays, and huge discounts, working as an International Category Market Optimiser (for Skincare) at The Body Shop certainly had its perks. But the free facemasks, moisturisers, oils, and body butters nourished little deeper than skin.

Soup, cereal bars, party rings, the drawer is brimming with snacks. ‘Take anything you like,’ Jayne offers. This to me is an Area 51 alien concept. Voluntarily sharing your sweet treats? As one of five I’ve learnt to hold onto my chocolate with all of my strength to prevent an older sibling from taking it.

She smiles at me from across the small table, crossing her legs as she sinks into the blue armchair. Her blonde bun, swirled on the top of her head, catches in the yellow light as she tilts her chin back to sip from a can of Coke.

I’ve passed this place a hundred times before. On route to work, trips into town, days out at Hotham Park, it’s always been here. There was even that time I walked straight past whilst entertaining a whim to make sock monkeys (stuffing from Squires required).