I often describe myself as a "wounded healer"—not in a way that centres my own story, but in a way that recognises I do not sit above the work I do with you. I understand, in a deeply human way, what it is like to struggle, to feel overwhelmed, to question yourself, and to try to make sense of emotional pain.
The term has a long history in therapeutic thinking, but I like to keep it simple: it means that whatever qualifications sit behind my name, I have also sat in the difficult seat. I have navigated life while carrying emotional challenges, learning differences, and the impact of early environments that did not always feel safe, accepting, or supportive.
Lived Experience as Strength
Like many people, I learned early patterns of survival—working hard to fit in, meet expectations, and find a sense of worth through achievement and care for others. Over time, I came to understand how easily these adaptations can turn into burnout, self-criticism, and disconnection from ourselves.
Therapy became a turning point for me. For the first time, I experienced what it was like to be truly heard and understood without judgement. Through my own therapeutic journey, I learned the power of self-awareness, choice, and self-compassion—and this became a core part of how I now work with others.
Why It Isn't a Weakness
There's sometimes a worry that a therapist's own history might get in the way of their work—that it makes them less objective, or less capable of holding a professional space. In my experience, it's the opposite. Understanding struggle from the inside allows me to meet you with empathy, steadiness, and genuine understanding, rather than a detached, clinical distance.
I believe that people are not "bad" or broken. Our responses to difficult environments or relationships often develop to help us survive them. My role is to help you understand these responses with compassion, rather than criticism, so that healing becomes possible.