People sometimes come to therapy hoping that the therapist will know what to do. I understand that. When we are lost, frightened, stuck or overwhelmed, there is something very appealing about finding somebody who understands the territory and asking them to show us the way out. And therapists do know things. We have theories, training, experience and skills. We may recognise patterns. We may notice things that are difficult to notice from inside an experience. But I don’t be

Yesterday I went to Pride in my hometown of Holyhead. I had an amazing time. I felt happy. Excited. Connected. Part of a community. I was surrounded by people, colour, noise, movement and celebration. I work with many LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent people, and there was something wonderful about being out in a community that feels, in many ways, like my tribe. And then I came home. I was socially overwhelmed. Thrilled. Peopled out. Jumpy. Nervous. Tired. Confused. Bouncy. My whole

Recently I found myself wondering whether we have created a new kind of human experience. Not loneliness. Not connection. Something in between. I noticed it in myself first. Sometimes I look at an unread WhatsApp message and hesitate before opening it. It isn’t that I don’t care about the person. Quite the opposite. Often I care enough to know that opening the message begins a relationship. It asks something of me: attention, presence, a response. If I sense that I don’t quit

"I don't know." It's one of the phrases I hear most often in the therapy room. Sometimes people apologise for saying it. They worry they're wasting time, being difficult or failing at therapy. They imagine I expect them to have answers. I don't. In fact, "I don't know" is often where the most meaningful work begins. Much of modern life encourages us to think our way through problems. We search for explanations, analyse situations and try to arrive at the "right" answer. Think

When we learn to listen deeply to ourselves, with patience, curiosity and kindness, we often discover that the next step has been quietly waiting for us all along.

Being in our present moment experience (PME) is good for us.

Lately, I’ve seen a lot of posts - and marketing campaigns- that frame the body as the problem. They describe anxiety as a nervous system “malfunction.” They pathologise the first flicker of sensation, a flutter in the chest, a moment of dizziness, a drop in the stomach, as something dangerous. Something to override. Something to retrain or “rewire.” Something to be got rid of. And they do all this while selling you a solution. Let me offer another perspective - one rooted in

By Kathleen Kingsley-Hughes When people hear “body-based therapy,” they often imagine massage or movement. But in the psychotherapy I offer, working with the body is something subtler, deeper, and profoundly healing. It’s about listening to the body - not just as a physical structure, but as a place of emotional intelligence, memory, meaning, and transformation. The Body Remembers — And It Knows How to Heal Our bodies are shaped by everything we’ve lived through - from our ea

Seasonal affective disorder, the winter blues, long nights and short, dark days

Writers struggle, right? Writers, get blocked. Right? Writers have issues, yes? Everybody knows that. But is it right that writers NEED...

Using mindfulness in the workplace for stress reduction,