Today was my first face-to-face speech therapy session and for once, I didn’t leave with the weight of responsibility to practice a set of exercises that I know I won’t do. 
Instead, I left blowing bubbles.
When my speech therapist suggested we begin by “blowing bubbles” to relax my facial muscles, it was impossible not to feel the echo of another time. Twenty years ago when I was learning to swim again after my stroke, I had started in exactly the same place.
As I wrote in Reinventing Emma:
“It was demeaning – blowing bubbles, coordinating my limbs in a kicking motion, and trying to swim in a straight line.”
Back then, blowing bubbles wasn’t a playful exercise to relax. It meant survival in the pool. My therapists feared I would aspirate. My recovery meant relearning the most basic functions of my body in public spaces, stripped of autonomy and dignity. The exercises were necessary but they carried weight.
So when those same words surfaced today, two decades later, I noticed my reaction immediately.
But this time it felt entirely different. This time, I felt empowered.
Today’s “blowing bubbles” wasn’t framed as homework or another task to add to an already full day. It was something I could do in the in-between moments of my life as it exists now. It requires no set up or equipment that I can do between meetings, in workshop breaks, or just before presenting.
That distinction matters more than most clinicians realise.
So much of my recovery has been therapists asking me to do exercises “in my own time”. What they didn’t understand was that each one of those therapists was adding to my already very full load of rehab I could do “in my own time” leaving me with none of my “own” time. I was already consumed with appointments, fatigue and just getting through the day. Of course, they all meant well, but I couldn’t keep up with it.
This led to uncomfortable conversations with therapists admitted I hadn’t done my homework which sometimes was more exhausting than the exercises themselves. And at times I pretended that I had done them to avoid this. It was what they wanted to hear and it meant I didn’t have to have another conversation about my failure.
It didn’t ever feel like I was empowered.
Now that I do have more confidence and understanding, I’m upfront about my own capacity. If it can’t be integrated into my life, requires extra equipment, or exists only as homework, I let the therapist know that I probably won’t do it.
Today’s session of blowing bubbles was an exercise given to me that felt achievable. I felt respected and understood that this independent practice was something I’d actually do and it built rapport through realism rather than praise or pressure.
The same exercise that once felt demeaning, now feels grounding.
When therapy honours context, energy, and autonomy people can trust more. It means that they are able to engage more honestly and achieve real outcomes. Sometimes empowerment isn’t about doing more. Sometimes it’s about finally being met where you are.