Meaningful therapy offers a path past our worst impulses. We should be fighting for it to be available for everyone

When I picture what a good life means to me, I feel a tension in my chest. I see my daughter and my husband and I feel the profound fulfilment of being exactly where I need to be, tightened by the terror that life is so fragile and I cannot protect them from that reality. Then a memory: lying on my analyst’s couch and describing a feeling of hollowness inside that I felt deeply ashamed of, and her listening and thinking and understanding – and my noticing that while I felt horror and repulsion, she didn’t seem to. Next: different walks around different parks with different friends, each with the same feeling of being warmed from the inside out; also, bumping into neighbours

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