Changefully

She didn’t want to talk.
So I gave her a marker.
That’s how it started. A simple shift. A whiteboard. Two slanted lines - like an upside-down V - just to give the space a shape.
“Draw whatever you like,” I said. “Take your time.”
She nodded.

I stepped outside the room.

Let’s call her Sophie.
She’s thirteen. She swims competitively. Thinks fast. Feels deeply. Sometimes, those two things collide - and when they do, words fall apart. In our last session, that collision left her overwhelmed, frustrated, frozen.
But when I came back in this time, she was smiling.
She had drawn a figure with a big, round face, a pointed party hat and a grin that seemed to take up half the board.
“What’s their name?” I asked.
“Jackie,” she said.

There’s something curious that happens when a young person creates a character. It’s a projection, but also a portal - an invitation into the parts of themselves they can’t quite say out loud.
I asked Sophie:
“What’s Jackie like when she’s happy?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“She’s smart,” she said. “A bit silly. She likes to be top of the class. Star of the show. She’s proud of herself.”
“And when Jackie’s sad?”
This time, she paused.
“She hides it,” she said. “She thinks she’s weird. Like nobody likes her. She hasn’t grown up yet. She kind of puts on a show.”

That’s when I asked something I wasn’t sure she’d answer.
“What would you say to Jackie when she feels like that?”
She looked over at the whiteboard.
Then softly:
“You’re all right, and you’re loved. You can be whatever you want to be.”
“And what would Jackie say to you?”
Sophie smiled.
“She’d say… it’s going to be okay. Just be you. Be comfortable being you.”
She then dropped her head.
I asked, “How did that feel, Soph?”
“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “Really good.”

There’s a name for what happened there.
Psychologists call it self-distancing - the act of speaking to yourself from a third-person perspective. It turns out that when you say, “You’ve got this, Sophie” instead of “I’ve got this,” the brain responds more calmly. Emotional regulation improves. Stress responses lower. Confidence rises.
Ethan Kross, who studies this phenomenon at the University of Michigan, calls this a key strategy for taming mental chatter. But he also notes something else: naming the voice - giving it a character - doesn’t just externalise emotion; it depersonalises the emotional spike. That’s crucial, especially for young people who feel deeply but struggle to create distance from their inner turmoil.
And yet this wasn’t just about naming emotions. This was about naming shame - the hidden belief that “I’m not good enough,” or “I don’t belong.” Sophie didn’t just draw Jackie. She gave Jackie her vulnerability. She admitted that when she’s sad, she puts on a show. That no one really sees what’s going on.
In that moment, Jackie became more than a drawing.
She became a mirror. And also, a lifeline.

Since that day, Sophie has started asking herself a different question in hard moments:
“What would Jackie say?”
And when she answers, something happens. Her voice changes. Her posture softens. It’s still Sophie - but it’s Sophie, softened by kindness. No longer a judge. Now, a friend.
That’s the work we do at Changefully.
We don’t chase quick fixes or over-explain emotions.
We create moments.
We slow down enough for meaning to find its way in.
As Dr. Brené Brown reminds us, belonging doesn’t begin with being accepted by others. It begins with belonging to ourselves. Sophie is just starting that journey. Jackie is part of the bridge.

In future sessions, we’ll help Sophie go even further - training Jackie’s voice to show up in moments of pressure. Before a race. After a disappointment. In those little in-between spaces where confidence can be built or broken. Confidence is built from trust in your skills and belief in your voice. We’re just getting started.
Sophie didn’t want to talk.
So I gave her a marker.
And she drew her way to something most adults still struggle to find:
A softer voice inside herself.
One that says:
It’s going to be okay.
Just be you.
Be comfortable being you.
Sometimes, transformation doesn’t look like a breakthrough.
Sometimes, it just looks like a girl, a marker…
and a smile that wasn’t there before.