What attracted you to become a therapist?

As a teenager, I was drawn to psychology. My father was a medical doctor, yet I felt that the emotional and mental health needs within my family weren’t being addressed, and this sparked my curiosity. I devoured psychology books, but at the time I didn’t feel confident enough to pursue the subject academically—it seemed too scientific and mathematical.

Instead, I trained as a nurse. Years later, when I moved to London, I began working in mental health and addictions at the Priory Hospital. Co-leading therapy groups there was a turning point; it planted the thought that one day I would become a therapist. I later worked as a counsellor in substance misuse rehabs and continued my training, but something still felt incomplete. I wanted to go deeper in the work—beyond coping strategies and into real transformation.

Around that time, I also began my own therapy, which was profoundly beneficial and further strengthened my desire to train as a psychotherapist. In 2015, I was finally able to pursue that long-held aspiration and begin formal psychotherapy training.

Where did you train as a therapist? 

I trained at the Minster Centre for a Master’s degree in Integrative Psychotherapy. The programme was rigorous and highly experiential, combining a wide range of theories and therapeutic approaches that deeply interested me—including attachment theory, body psychotherapy, and contemporary psychoanalysis.

Towards the end of my training, I enrolled in a body psychotherapy course (postural integration), which involved “hands-on” myofascial bodywork, somewhat similar to massage. I chose this neo-Reichian approach because the somatic training at the Minster Centre had inspired me, and I wanted to explore the body more deeply as a therapeutic resource.

The course offered far more than I expected. I experienced first-hand how we can uncover hidden truths about ourselves when we truly listen to the body’s wisdom. This work helped me ground all the theoretical knowledge that had been living in my head, allowing it to come alive in my body. That was the moment I realised what kind of therapy I wanted to offer. I felt far more integrated—and more accomplished—as a psychotherapist from that point onward.

Can you tell us about the type of therapy you practise?

I am an integrative psychotherapist, which means I draw on a range of therapeutic theories and approaches and tailor them to each client and their unique needs. My work is mainly informed by psychoanalytic psychotherapy, attachment theory, body psychotherapy, and Buddhist psychology.

I describe myself as an embodied relational psychotherapist because I see therapy as a shared, collaborative process rather than a dynamic in which the therapist is the expert with all the answers. In practice, this means I meet the person in front of me with care, curiosity, and compassion, staying present moment by moment as the therapeutic process unfolds.

I have seen how powerful it can be simply to listen deeply and with presence. I work with what emerges between myself and my client in the room, as well as with their past and present relationships and personal history, especially as these patterns come to life through our work together.

At the heart of my approach is the therapeutic relationship. I believe it plays a crucial role in creating positive outcomes. In many ways, the relationship becomes a “secure base”—a concept from attachment theory—from which clients can safely explore, take risks, and experiment with new ways of relating to another person. The hope is that these new relational experiences inside the therapy room gradually find their way into the client’s life outside it.

How does integrative psychotherapy help with symptoms of trauma?

Integrative therapy can be especially helpful for trauma because it brings together multiple approaches to support healing in a safe, flexible way. At the heart of the work is a secure, trusting therapeutic relationship, which offers clients a dependable space where their experiences are respected and understood—an essential foundation for those who have been overwhelmed or harmed in the past. Body-based psychotherapy is often included to help clients reconnect with their physical sensations and develop tools for emotional and physiological regulation, since trauma is stored and expressed not only in thoughts but in the body as well. Psychoeducation is another key element, empowering clients with knowledge about how trauma affects their mind and body, so they can feel more in control of their experience. Throughout the process, the therapist honours the client’s pace, ensuring that exploration happens gradually and collaboratively, allowing the client to remain grounded and safe as they move toward recovery.

What sort of people do you usually see?

I previously worked mainly with people in their twenties and thirties, but over time my practice has naturally evolved to include a larger number of clients aged forty and above. This shift has unfolded alongside my own ageing process, and I welcome the depth and perspective it brings to the work.

The people I see come with a wide range of concerns, including anxiety, depression, addiction, difficulties in family or partner relationships (I work with both individuals and couples), social isolation, life transitions, chronic or psychosomatic illness, body image and eating-related distress, emotional numbness (alexithymia) or emotional overwhelm (dysregulation), as well as PTSD and complex trauma.

Many of my clients share a deep longing for connection—with themselves as well as with others—while also finding it challenging to maintain close relationships. As mentioned earlier, the therapeutic relationship can become a valuable ‘testing ground’ for exploring new ways of relating. Within this safe and supportive space, clients can learn how to repair misunderstandings or ruptures, and how to navigate separations and endings with greater confidence and self-awareness.

Have you noticed any recent mental health trends or wider changes in attitude?

What I’ve noticed is something of a paradox. On the one hand, there seems to be a growing openness around mental health. People are more willing to talk about it, and we’re seeing increased recognition and diagnosis of conditions such as ADHD and autism. On the other hand, there appears to be less willingness to engage in the longer-term processes often needed to address these difficulties in a meaningful way.

There seems to be an increasing desire for quick solutions. This may be influenced by the aftermath of Covid, the ongoing cost of living crisis, wider global instability, and the climate crisis — all of which contribute to a sense of pressure and urgency in daily life.

This shows up in therapy in noticeable ways. Clients often seem hesitant to commit to longer periods of therapeutic work, even when they are experiencing high levels of distress. Alongside this, there appears to be a growing ambivalence towards therapy itself.

I wonder whether this reflects a broader, collective fear of uncertainty. For some people, it may feel difficult to trust that psychotherapy can truly “hold” the depth of distress they are carrying, or that staying with the process over time can lead to meaningful change.

What do you like about being a therapist?

I find my work incredibly rewarding, especially when I can see that clients are getting something meaningful from the process. There’s nothing quite like watching someone reach a turning point or begin to feel a sense of hope when things have been difficult for a long time.

That said, it’s not always about big changes. Even when progress feels slow or someone feels stuck, there’s something really valuable about simply being there with them and walking alongside them on their journey. It’s a genuine privilege to be trusted by someone I’ve only just met, to be invited into their world, and to get to know them as they are. That sense of connection is special, and it’s something I truly appreciate.

What is less pleasant?

While I really value the freedom that comes with working in private practice, it also brings extra responsibilities and demands, and being self-employed can feel heavy at times. That’s why maintaining a healthy work–life balance is so important to me. Having strong support networks, regular supervision, and prioritising self-care all play a key role in helping me stay grounded and present in my work.

How long have you been with Welldoing and what you think of us?

I’ve been with Welldoing for almost seven years, and being on the platform has really helped me establish my private practice, particularly in the early stages (I joined two years post-qualification). I think your services are excellent, especially the newsletter feature, which is such a valuable resource for both clients and therapists.

I’ve also taken part in CPD sessions and found them hugely beneficial. One highlight was Elaine Nicholson MBE’s fascinating workshop in 2024 on working with clients with Asperger’s and ASD. It was a real eye-opener in terms of understanding the neurodivergent population and answered important questions about how best to support them.

What books have been important to you in terms of your professional and personal development? Do you ever recommend books to clients?

The book Being and Becoming by Franklyn Sills (2009) is high up on my reading list. It is a therapy manual bringing together the wisdom of western psychotherapy and eastern philosophies such as Buddhism. Reading it was immensely encouraging for my setting out as a therapist, with statements like these:

 “Therapeutic skills are, in essence, life skills. These are not just about becoming and being a therapist, but about being a human being engaged in a journey of enquiry and healing.” (2009: 278)

I could completely relate to this statement!

The book Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart (1998) by Mark Epstein is another little gem: it is subtitled “Lessons from Meditation and Psychotherapy” and offers the reader comfort, hope, and trust in one’s own healing capacities. By writing about his own journey of suffering, of healing and of becoming a psychotherapist, Epstein inspired me massively and also helped me to get through the difficult times in my own therapy training.

I sometimes also recommend books to clients, when I feel that a particular book can feel empowering and enhance their ongoing therapeutic process. After all, clients only see me once a week (rarely more), and reading the relevant literature can serve as a valuable resource in addition to their therapy.

For example, I have recommended the highly practical book The Relate Guide to Staying Together by Susan Quilliam (1995) to couples. It might seem dated but is packed with insightful tips and ideas for couples to implement, which I sometimes make use of when I offer homework tasks to them.

Another two books I have recommended are: Complex PTSD – From Surviving to Thriving (2013) by Pete Walker, and The Polyvagal Theory Workbook for Trauma by Arielle Schwartz (2025). Walker’s book can be extremely valuable for trauma survivors as the author has himself been through it, and he provides numerous helpful examples that inspire hope. The Polyvagal Workbook is an extremely well put together resource for trauma, possibly one of the easiest to understand and implement that’s on offer. I regularly offer it to clients as a resource in sessions and encourage them to use it at home.

What do you do for your own mental health? 

I really try to practise what I preach when it comes to self-care. Looking after myself is essential, and that includes making time for nourishing, enjoyable activities, as well as spending plenty of time with friends and family. Maintaining a healthy work–life balance matters a great deal to me, as does staying physically well and eating properly.

I also make a point of staying connected professionally by taking part in peer supervision groups and CPD seminars, which helps prevent the sense of isolation that can sometimes come with working in private practice. And, when I feel it would be helpful, I return to therapy myself — something I see as a valuable and important part of my ongoing personal and professional wellbeing.

You are a therapist in Crystal Palace (& London Bridge from 2026). What can you share with us about seeing clients in this area?

I’ve been working in Crystal Palace for five years now and still really enjoy it. When I first started, I was a little hesitant about working from home, as I had previously been based solely at a group practice in London Bridge. When Covid arrived, I made the decision to step away from other agencies, mainly because it felt safer to see clients from home, as well as online.

While I’ve enjoyed working in Crystal Palace over the years, I’ve recently felt drawn back to the idea of working alongside other therapists again. With that in mind, I’ve decided to begin offering sessions in London Bridge from February 2026.

What’s your consultation room like?

I primarily work at home, and clients have described my consulting room as “warm and cozy”. I like playing with warm colours and try to make people feel ‘at home’, rather than offering a neutral, plain environment (which has its place too of course).

What do you wish people knew about therapy?

As I have indicated earlier, therapy is not a ‘quick fix.’ If you want real progress, you sometimes have to go through difficult periods. In times like these it’s important to remember that you’re not alone whilst doing so which makes it possible do get through and see the light at the end of the tunnel. And when this happens, and you become aware of it, that can feel very rewarding and impactful.

What did you learn about yourself in therapy?

I chose to go to therapy before I began my training, and it was a great relief to realise it was exactly the right decision. The experience was so transformative that I doubt I would have become a therapist without it.

Over the years, therapy has taught me that it is okay to be who I am—with all my history, experiences, and character traits—and that vulnerability is not a weakness but a way of connecting. I learned that it is safe to ask for what I need.

I also relate to the idea of the “wounded healer”, a concept introduced by Carl Gustav Jung in the 1920s. To me, it means recognising my own wounds and using the understanding they bring to support others in their healing. I first came across this idea during my training at the Minster Centre, and I remain deeply grateful for the influence it has had on both my personal and professional life.