Forget “holding space” and “finding your inner child”—I’ll meet you in the actual chaos of life and loss.
until you find your way back (or forward) to something that feels like you.
That means being real. Really real, in all the messiness and chaos that this being human brings.
That means me being real too. That’s where the magic is in therapy. If you’ve had a bad experience of counselling, that’s because your counsellor was trying to be someone they weren’t. That’s never going to work.
I do wear cardigans, but with a band tee and Doc Martens. And we’ll talk like humans. No therapy cliches, no affirmations. I do real talk, and sometimes that gets a little sweary.
Curious but unsure?
Totally fair. That’s why I offer a free 20-minute chat to see if we’re a good fit. Keep scrolling to find out a bit more, then book your call.

Heartbreak. Family drama. Big decisions. Days when your brain just won’t cooperate. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re crying in the cereal aisle of Tesco because the wrong (right) song started playing and you weren’t prepared.
Life happens, and it rarely sends a warning alert.
And then, there’s grief…. Oh boy.
Grief has a way of barging in uninvited.
Sometimes it’s loud and obvious—someone you love dies and your whole world changes overnight. Other times it sneaks in quietly: the end of a relationship, a big life shift, the version of life you thought you’d have slowly slipping away. It doesn’t always wear black or come with sympathy cards. But it’s still grief.
Grief doesn’t follow a timeline. It doesn’t care if it’s been three days or three decades. And it doesn’t only show up after death. I’ve worked with people grieving parents they never had, futures that didn’t happen, relationships that were never quite right, people rebuilding after life threw a spanner in the works (or several). It all counts.
No two people experience grief the same way. And here’s the truth: you’re not meant to “get over it” or “move on.” But it can become something you carry more gently. Something that reshapes you, rather than flattens you. You can learn to carry it differently—with more understanding, more space to breathe, and less pressure to pretend you’re fine when you’re clearly not.
Therapy gives you that space.
It’s somewhere you don’t have to put on a brave face or make it make sense. You can be angry, sad, confused, numb, relieved, all of the above—or none of the above—and we’ll work with that.
We can’t dodge the hard stuff, and frankly, trying to isn’t doing us any favours. But we can work out how to deal with it without completely losing the plot. That’s the point of therapy.
It’s not about “fixing” you (you’re not broken). It’s about helping you make sense of what’s going on, understand yourself more deeply, and figure out how to move forward—even if you’re not totally sure what “forward” looks like right now.
Okay, so what actually happens in therapy (besides sitting awkwardly on a chair)? Simply put (but not necessarily simple), we make sense of whatever’s going on for you right now…
You don’t need to be in crisis 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 counts.
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, I don’t have worksheets for you to do as homework, 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 and downs and messiness, gently guiding you and keeping you as safe as possible. As we work together, you’ll start to trust yourself more, listen to your inner wisdom, 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 never say anything as annoying as “trust the process”. If I do, you have my permission to throw a cushion at me.
I’m trained in humanistic integrative therapy. I know, word salad.
It 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, and ancient 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.
I work with adults (18+) and have particular experience with grief, trauma, and all the messy in-between stuff, including the kinds of loss that don’t come with a sympathy card. I also work as a trainer, creating and delivering training about all things grief related, like bereavement by suicide, and grief in neurodivergent people.
I see clients in Chesterfield, or online/by phone if you prefer therapy from the comfort of your sofa (blankets and pets welcome). I keep things flexible—no pressure to commit to a set number of sessions, and we’ll work around your schedule as best we can. I am a registered therapist with BACP (British Association of Counsellors & Psychotherapists).
Sessions cost £50 per hour, with concessionary rates available.
Shall we start?