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Less pressure, more space and a simpler pace of life... The ancient apple orchard in Surrey. One of the privileges of my job is hearing clients describe the subtle shifts that begin to emerge as our work progresses. They might think of themselves differently, use new language to describe an old problem, pause before following a familiar pattern or tentatively acknowledge something that they have previously dismissed. One way I sometimes invite a client to expl

The phrase I often use with clients when we begin working together is “This is your space.” It serves as an invitation for them to consider how they want to use their sessions. Therapy is not an ordinary relationship. A therapist has professional responsibilities the client does not have and chooses carefully what to disclose. The client, on the other hand, may reveal intimate things about their life and pays to be listened to. In most personal relationships, the listening co

It’s Friday morning and, after everything that happened this week, I’ve woken up exhausted. Earlier in the week I passed my viva, formally completing three years of work to qualify as a counsellor. It was the culmination of hundreds of hours of study, clinical work and supervision. A big achievement, followed by happiness, tiredness, ordinary life and the slow process of absorbing what had actually happened. Wednesday evening, earmarked for a family celebration, coincided wit

Coming back to my self-defence class after a holiday, I meet a woman who has recently joined and see a familiar face returning after recovering from an injury. We greet one another warmly and I notice those who are absent too. We exchange some cheerful banter before forming a line and bowing as training begins. The formality is followed by a boisterous warm-up, on this occasion combining catch and tag with cardio drills. The games vary in silliness and competitiveness but the

Still standing… I took this photo in Petworth Deer Park in May. The oak tree has been split almost vertically by lightning, the impact of that force impossible to miss. It runs through the trunk like a history the tree has had no choice but to carry. And yet, above it, there is a full green crown. I found myself pausing there for a while. The tree was still alive, still growing, still beautiful. Not despite what had happened to it but somehow with it. Perhaps resilience is no