There’s a quiet moment that happens in the self-compassion sessions I teach at The Tree Room.
It’s not planned.
It’s not something I guide.
But I notice it, every time.
I sit facing the group. In front of me are people carrying so much, grief, exhaustion, the long and often invisible impact of loving someone through addiction.
Behind me, there’s a wall of windows looking out onto a small garden. Trees moving gently in the breeze. Flowers shifting with the seasons. And every so often, a little squirrel darting in and out of view.
I can’t see the garden while I’m teaching.
But they can.
And when emotions rise as they often do, something subtle happens.
People’s gaze softens.
They look past me, through the windows, toward something steady.
That view becomes an anchor.
A place to rest when things feel too much.
A way to stay present without needing to explain or push anything away.
A quiet support, sitting just behind me.
Up until now, my work at The Tree Room has taken place within closed groups.
The 8-week Cultivating Self-Compassion programme for people affected by a loved one’s addiction. And more recently, a programme for widows.
So when people arrived, there was already a shared understanding. A quiet knowing of why they were there.
And still, what stood out most again and again, was how much the space itself mattered.
When we spoke to participants about their experience, they didn’t just talk about what they learned. They talked about how the space made them feel.
They described it as:
Underneath all of that was something simple and profound: “I can bring difficult things here and not feel exposed or wrong.”
In many services, the focus is on what is delivered, the content, the structure, the intervention. But what I’ve learned through this work is that how a space feels shapes whether someone can engage at all.
If a space feels safe, people soften.
They stay.
They begin, gently, in their own time.
If it doesn’t, they hold back.
Or they don’t come through the door at all.
The environment is never neutral.
It either supports the work, or it quietly prevents it.
Blossome doesn’t have a permanent venue. (we dream of Blossome House) We hire spaces. We move between them. We build relationships with different places.
On one level, that’s because of funding. But it has also made me incredibly intentional. Not every room can hold this kind of work. So we choose carefully.
We work with partners and venues who understand that emotional safety isn’t created through policies or procedures, but through how a space feels. Spaces that are warm, welcoming, and non-clinical. Places where someone might walk in and, even if they don’t quite know why, feel able to stay.
That collaboration matters.
Because when the right space and the right people come together, the environment itself begins to support the work. It’s no longer just a venue. It becomes part of the experience.
Out of all the spaces I’ve worked in, The Tree Room is the closest thing we have to a home.
There’s something about it that’s hard to describe, but you can feel it as soon as you walk in. People come back, week after week, not just because of the sessions, but because of how it feels to be there. It’s a space where:
And sometimes, the most important thing that happens in a session isn’t what’s said. It’s the moment someone quietly looks past me, out of the window, and finds enough steadiness to stay.
Up until now, these sessions have taken place within structured programmes. And while those programmes are deeply valuable and will always be offered, they’re not always accessible to everyone.
For some, eight weeks feels like too much of a commitment. For others, it feels too exposing. And for many, it simply doesn’t feel like something they would sign up for.
So something is changing.
From 21 May 2026, we will be offering weekly one-hour self-compassion sessions at The Tree Room, open to anyone. This is about making self-compassion more accessible. A way for people to:
And importantly, it allows us to begin removing some of the stigma that still surrounds addiction, grief, and emotional struggle.
People don’t have to arrive with a label. They don’t have to explain why they’re there.
They can simply come.
Many of the people I care most about reaching would never walk into a service labelled “support.”
They are often quietly coping. Holding everything together. Carrying more than most people realise. They don’t always see themselves as needing help.
But they do need space.
Space to pause.
Space to breathe.
Space where they don’t feel judged or exposed.
By opening these sessions up, we begin to reach that hidden audience.
Not by asking them to step into something that feels clinical or labelled but by offering something that feels human, safe, and accessible.
The weekly sessions take place every Thursday at 11am at The Tree Room starting 21 May. Spaces are limited to 12 so please book early.
There’s no pressure to share.
No expectation to be anything other than you are.
Just a space to pause, breathe, and reconnect with yourself, and with others.
Because in my experience, healing doesn’t always begin with big breakthroughs.
Sometimes, it begins much more quietly.
A moment of stillness.
A softening.
A glance toward something steady.
And the feeling that, perhaps for the first time in a while…
you’re not alone.
Who are these sessions for?
Anyone who wants to explore self-compassion in a safe, supportive space. You don’t need any prior experience.
Do I need to commit to a course?
No. These are one-hour sessions designed to be accessible and flexible.
Is this therapy?
No. These sessions offer guided self-compassion practices in a group setting, without pressure to share. Simply learn how to be kinder towards yourself.
Kim Moore is the Founder of Blossome CIC. She lost her husband Chris to alcoholism in 2017. She faced a difficult journey while raising 2 children alone, with her family living on the opposite side of the world. Kim founded the Blossome Community and The Pathway to Peace healing journey so no one would have to feel alone while enduring the trauma of a loved one’s battle with alcoholism or addiction. She is also on a mission to end the generational cycle of alcoholism and addiction in families.
Kim lost her husband to alcohol dependency in 2017. She created the Blossome Community to help others enduring losing a loved one to alcoholism or addiction find a Pathway to Peace so they can let go of guilt/shame and live with self-compassion and joy.
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