One book that a dear friend gave me, which became my emotional survival guide for that year was - 'How to survive the loss of a love' by Peter McWilliams, Harold H. Bloomfield and Melba Colgrove. It's compiled of very short prose pieces which alternate with short poems. The words were soothing, reassuring, and each passage was short, thankfully. It's a book you can dip into at random, or just follow your intuition as to which page would speak most to you at that moment.

Also suffering from loss of ability to watch films or read books at this time, was an extra loss added to the list. Reading a paragraph three times over and your mind so much on overdrive that you can't hear the words of the page. And although a film was an escape from life for a couple of hours, re-entering 'reality' afterwards was just too painful.

But reading and re-reading a few favourite pages of the book, reminding me that I'm not alone, that the tunnel of darkness will end, that I am healing and I will come through this - being reminded of this every morning upon first waking and last thing at night before final short eye, was real balm to the soul.

A friend of mine recommended a poetry healing group. I had no idea what one was, or how it worked, and not knowing much about poetry, I was a bit reluctant. But the fact that I'd found the 'How to survive the loss of a love' book so helpful, both its lists of bullet points and its poems, and the fact that I trusted my friend's intuition about what was good for me, I decided to give it a go.

I was surprised by the warmth and compassion and welcome of the facilitator and everyone in the group. Being in such an understanding group of people, was like stepping into a warm bath. We worked in pairs to begin with, and gave introductions to each other, which was very informal and easy-going.

It was a mixed group of men and women, all there for different reasons, some who had written poems just for themselves, some who, like me, had no idea about poetry, and a couple who were avid readers of poetry.

The facilitator was very calm and soothing throughout, she held the space for everyone, so that we all felt comfortable and at ease, no matter what feelings came up, or what feelings we might want to discuss, and respected our choices as to how much we wanted to open up, and how much we wanted to keep private. She presented us with different poems, and we read and discussed them, before being given a writing prompt. What we wrote didn't have to make any sense, it could be random words, lists, associations, images, a short piece of prose, anything really. And the poems weren't there to be 'understood' or pulled apart - it was nothing like school at all - it was all about which words or lines of the poem resonated for you personally, and if it didn't then that didn't matter.

'Different poems open up different things for different people,' the facilitator told us, and she was right.

I was really starting to enjoy the whole process and interested in what other people had written, and how they were learning to cope with some of the issues in their lives too. And amazed at some of things people wrote too, as if the poem opened up some new voice inside them.

One of the poems we looked at was David Whyte's 'House of Belonging'. I had no idea that was going to unlock so many things for me. I had tears in my eyes, as it was read out in the group. There's this one particular stanza that has stayed with me, and I still know it by heart, it means that much to me: 'This is the temple / of my adult aloneness / and I belong / to that aloneness / as I belong to my life.'

I'd never considered aloneness before as a temple, something that offered sanctuary, somewhere sacred. I began to see aloneness redefined. It didn't have to be a place of loneliness. It could be a gift, a place where I was welcome. A belonging to myself - I belonged to me - I belonged to this life - I belong to me - like a baby belongs with its mother. And every human has their own temple of aloneness, and there is a strange sense of unity in that.

We were asked to write about our temples of aloneness - what they looked like, how we might decorate them. It was a beautiful and poignant exercise. It really helped me to see things in a new light, and helped me to move forward into my life, belonging to my life, in a way that I never could have before.

So thank you to Bethany and to the group, for such warmth and understanding and for introducing me to such a powerful poem, that still continues to help me, to this day.