Think therapists are all soothing voices and beige cardigans? Yeah, I really don’t fit that cliché.
Which works out well, because there isn’t really an “ideal therapy client” either.
Now we’ve got that out of the way, we can both relax. Whatever’s brought you here, it’s welcome. And people come to therapy for all sorts of reasons.
Sometimes it’s obvious. Something’s happened. A loss. A breakup. Something that’s knocked life sideways.
Other times it’s harder to point to. On paper, everything’s okay. But it doesn’t feel okay.
A relationship that doesn’t quite work, but you can’t explain why.
A job that slowly drains you, even though you “should” be fine with it.
That low-level, persistent “what is the point of everything?” running in the background. That feeling that you’re not really yourself any more.
Or the exhausting business of feeling too much and never enough (more on this later),
Let’s start a conversation
I currently have limited availability for new clients, but you are welcome to get in touch and we can have a quick chat about what you need. If I can’t offer you an appointment because I’m fully booked, I can add you to my waiting list.
I don’t promise miracles or quick fixes. I do promise not to offer fridge-magnet platitudes.
I also promise to be honest with you, stay curious about you, and not give up on you. You don’t need to be in crisis to deserve all three.
Because that’s the truth of it: you don’t need to wait until you hit crisis point to come to therapy. You just need to be human. Stuck, sad, fed up, overwhelmed, lost, tired of repeating the same old loops – it all matters.
You know that drawer full of old charger cables, all horribly tangled up and messy? Yeah, that’s you (and me).
In our sessions, we’ll:
• work on untangling all of that crap that’s been tying you in knots
• look at how your past may be playing an uninvited role in your present
• identify your needs (yes, you’re allowed to have them) and how to meet them
• spot patterns – in your relationships, your reactions, and your choices
• explore what actually matters to you and how to live more in line with that
• get curious about what you’re feeling, not just try to “fix” it
• find ways to cope that actually help, without turning your whole life upside down or forcing you to start journalling in a meadow (unless that’s your thing – no judgement)
I don’t fit you to some mysterious therapeutic blueprint, and I can’t tell you ahead of time exactly what to expect, because every session is going to be different. Sometimes we will sit and talk, sometimes we might come at things from a creative angle. Some sessions you will walk out feeling lighter, some sessions you may ask yourself what on earth you are putting yourself through this for. I’ll be there for all the ups, downs and messiness, gently guiding you and keeping you as safe as possible. As we work together, you’ll start to trust yourself more and reconnect with your own resources and strengths.
You might not see that potential yet – but I promise you that I will, from the minute you nervously (or not!) walk into that first session. Why? Because this is a journey I have been on with so many people, from a range of backgrounds, ages and experiences. Because it’s a journey I’ve been on too. Because I do this work with absolute belief in the process.
Even though I promise I will try not to say anything as annoying as “trust the process” (although now I’ve said that, it will probably pop out of my mouth at some stage….)
I am an Accredited Registrant with The National Counselling and Psychotherapy Society (MNCPS Acc.), with hundreds of client hours experience. More on my training/qualifications further down.
Properly qualified doesn’t mean predictable. If your idea of therapy is sitting across from someone very polished, very calm, asking “and how does that make you feel?” on a loop, that’s not really what happens here.
You’ll be sitting across from someone with brightly dyed hair, tattoos, Doc Martens, and a strong tendency to drop the odd F bomb. Click here to watch a video that will give you a real sense of who you will be working with.
And whatever you’re worried about saying, I promise you, I’ve likely heard something similar before, and I didn’t judge that person either. Your thoughts aren’t as shocking as you think they are. And even if they were, my job is to help you make sense of them, not to clutch my pearls. Not that I wear pearls…..
If you’ve had a bad experience of counselling before, you’re not alone.
Often it’s about the fit between two people. Sitting with someone who feels slightly out of sync, or performative, or like you have to edit yourself just to make the conversation work… that rarely helps anything meaningful unfold. That kind of mismatch can quietly shut things down before they’ve even started, because if you’re spending all your energy adjusting, there isn’t much left for anything else.
If you’ve felt that before, we can try something that actually fits.
Got questions? Excellent.
Deciding to start therapy usually comes with a load of questions spinning around your head. Most of them you’ll be too polite (or too anxious) to actually ask me directly. So here’s the stuff people usually want to know but don’t always feel they can ask. The practical bits, the awkward bits, and the “am I even allowed to wonder this?” bits.
Practical Questions:
Sessions are 60 minutes.
£60 per session. Payment is due before each session (bank transfer or cash).
I don’t offer reduced rates – I keep my fee set at £60 to make my practice sustainable. I realise that’s not manageable for everyone. If cost is a barrier, it’s worth checking what’s available through the NHS or looking into low-cost counselling services in your area; some charities and training organisations offer therapy on a sliding scale.
Most people come weekly, especially at the start. That regularity helps build momentum and gives you space to actually work through things rather than just catching up on what’s happened since last time. Some people move to fortnightly once they’re in a different place. We’ll figure out what works for you
Honestly? I don’t know. Some people come for a few months. Some for a year or more. Some people do a chunk of work, leave, then come back later when something else comes up. We’ll keep checking in about how it’s going and whether it still feels useful.
I work from the old Assembly Rooms on the first floor of the Market Hall in central Chesterfield. I also see clients online, using Teams.
First thing we’ll do is have a quick chat, a phone or video call (about 10-15 minutes) to talk about what you’re looking for and whether I have availability. If it feels like a good fit, we’ll book in your first session. If I don’t have availability I can add you to my waiting list and let you know when a slot opens up.
Therapy Questions:
First session: we’ll talk about what’s brought you here, what you’re hoping for, and a zoomed out picture of your world. It’s normal to be nervous. Most people are. After that, sessions are just… talking. Properly. About whatever’s going on for you. Sometimes I’ll ask questions. Sometimes I’ll point things out. Sometimes we’ll use creative tools to help you look at things from a new perspective. There’s no script. No homework (unless you specifically want it). No pressure to perform or say the right thing.
That’s completely normal. A lot people go blank when they’re nervous. We’ll always find something. I’m quite good at noticing what’s not being said, or where you seem stuck, or what keeps coming up. You don’t need to have it all figured out before you arrive. People often apologise for going off on tangents, but tangents are therapy gold. My brain doesn’t run in a straight line either, so if yours takes the scenic route, you’re in good company.
And if you cry? There are tissues. It’s fine. Therapy is one of the few places where you’re actually allowed to fall apart without someone trying to fix you or make you feel better immediately. Sometimes falling apart is exactly what you need.
Yes. What is said in the room stays in the room. The only exceptions are if you tell me something that suggests you or someone else is at serious risk of harm, or if I’m legally required to share information (which is incredibly rare). If I ever needed to break confidentiality, I’d talk to you about it first unless doing so would put someone in danger.
I also have regular supervision (all therapists do), where I talk about my work with another therapist to make sure I’m doing right by my clients. But I don’t use your name or identifying details.
No. I’m not a psychiatrist or a doctor. If you’re wondering whether you have ADHD, autism, depression, anxiety, or anything else that needs a formal diagnosis, you’d need to speak to your GP or a psychiatrist/psychologist to get that formally done. That said, we can absolutely work together on the impact these things have on your life, whether you have a diagnosis or not.
Then we’re not a good fit. It happens. Therapy is a bit like dating – sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there, and that’s nobody’s fault. If you’re not feeling it, tell me. I won’t be offended. I can help you find someone else who might be better suited to what you need. Equally, if I think someone else would be better placed to help you, I’ll be honest about that too.
You don’t have to be in crisis to deserve support. If something’s bothering you – if you’re stuck, or sad, or just feel a bit off – that’s enough. You don’t need to wait until you’re drowning to learn to swim.
Feelings aren’t compulsory. I’m much more interested in what’s actually going on for you than in making you label it accurately. Some people (especially neurodivergent people) find it challenging to identify or label emotions, and that’s okay – we can still do really good work.
Therapy can feel harder before it feels better. When you start looking at stuff you’ve been avoiding, it can be uncomfortable. But that’s different from making things worse. It’s more like cleaning out an infected wound; it stings, but it’s what needs to happen for things to actually heal. If things feel overwhelming, we can slow down. You’re in control of how fast or deep we go.
What you need to know about me:
I’m a qualified, accredited therapist, and my training is in humanistic integrative therapy.
That basically means I believe you already have the good stuff inside you – you just might need some help finding it under all the stress, expectations, broken or difficult connections, and outdated coping mechanisms.
I’ve lived through the messy stuff; I know what it means to rebuild from the inside out. I’m not about fixing you, because you’re not broken. But I can help you make sense of what’s changed, and find a way forward, so you can start to thrive, not just survive. I won’t sit there nodding silently or throw psychobabble at you. I’ll show up as a real person, with curiosity, warmth and a deep belief that change is possible (even if right now that might sound impossible).
If you want to get a flavour of me, press play on the right to watch a 3 minute video of me talking about therapy (and being my very authentic self!)
Too Much, Not Enough, and Everything In Between
You can spend a very long time thinking you’re “bad at life” before realising something else might be going on.
A lot of neurodivergent people arrive in therapy already exhausted from trying to explain themselves. Not just to other people, but to themselves too. Years of wondering why things seem harder than they “should” be, why everything takes so much effort,
why you feel simultaneously “too much” and “not enough”.
I try to create a space that feels real enough for people to stop masking so hard. I work in a way that leaves room for tangents, overthinking, unfinished thoughts, and the occasional complete mental blank. I’m neurodivergent too, so trust me, between us, there’s a fair chance at least one train of thought will leave the station unexpectedly.
In my experience that’s where the gold is.
A lot of the neurodivergent people I work with have spent years masking. Appearing capable. Functioning externally. Trying very hard to stay on top of things. Often at quite a significant internal cost. Sometimes what brings people to therapy isn’t crisis exactly. It’s the quieter realisation that life feels harder than it looks for everyone else…
That relationships feel confusing. That burnout keeps happening. That they’re constantly overthinking social interactions. That they can never quite switch off. That they feel emotionally overwhelmed by things other people seem able to brush past.
And then there’s the grief side of it. The grief of late recognition. Of looking back over your life with completely new context. Of wondering what might have been different if someone had noticed earlier.
I don’t provide diagnostic assessments, that’s the work of a clinical psychologist, not a therapist. But therapy can still be incredibly valuable whether you’re diagnosed, questioning, self-identifying, or simply exploring parts of yourself that are starting to make more sense. Because often the work isn’t about finding a label. It’s about understanding how you move through the world, what’s exhausting you, what you’ve adapted to survive, and what happens when you stop treating yourself like a problem to solve.