I'm a neurodivergent therapist, and over the years I've learned that no amount of training provides a one-size-fits-all toolkit. For the past decade I've taken what my training gave me seriously, and I've also moved away from the parts that didn't hold up, for me or for my clients. The result is an approach that's genuinely my own, one that centres neurodivergent experience, identity, and trauma, and meets the actual person in the room rather than a category.

I trained at the University of Roehampton, graduating in 2015, and have spent the decade since doing what most training doesn't prepare you for: working out which parts of what I learned actually hold, and quietly setting aside the parts that don't. The work is depth-oriented and creative. It draws on Jungian psychology and art-making, stays close to the body, and takes the nervous system seriously. It is always trauma-informed.

I work with neurodivergent women, teenagers, and queer people who are trying to understand themselves more honestly. That often means working with trauma: the kind that gets named, and the quieter kind that accumulates over years of being misunderstood or having to perform a version of yourself that was never quite true. It means sitting with identity: who you are, who you were told you were, and what's left when you stop trying to reconcile the two. Often there's a late autism or ADHD diagnosis in the picture, or a growing suspicion that one might fit.

Sometimes it means untangling years of masking, burnout, or the particular exhaustion of having adapted so well to everything that you've lost track of what you actually are underneath it all. If you're looking for a space that takes your inner world seriously and doesn't ask you to make yourself legible before you're ready, you're in the right place.

Sessions can be quiet or strange or funny. They tend to go somewhere real.

I'm based in Whitstable and work online and outdoors.