If you have had a bad experience in therapy before

Recently, a client thanked me for restoring his faith in therapy - he told me he had started to believe all therapists were just charlatans chasing money. His words stayed with me. I have also had my own painful experiences in therapy, where I felt misunderstood, unseen, even mocked. I once had a therapist giggle while I tried to explain the depth of my pain. That moment I will never forget.

Perhaps that is why I hold this work with such tenderness. I do not take lightly the privilege of walking alongside someone as they heal. Not everyone recognises the delicate nature of the therapeutic relationship. To bear witness to another’s pain, to sit with what is raw, frightening or unspoken, is a profound responsibility.

To offer a small, steady glimmer of hope in the darkest places—this, to me, is necessary. Sacred, even.

Reaching out for support can be one of the most vulnerable things a person does. It takes courage to open up, to tell the truth of your inner world, and to place that truth in someone else’s hands. So if you have done that before—perhaps more than once—and been met with judgment, minimisation, silence, or even harm, I want to say this clearly:

It was not your fault. You did not ask too much. You were not too much.

Therapy is supposed to be a place of safety, but for many people it has not felt that way. Maybe you were rushed, talked over, or told to “move on” before you were ready. Maybe your experience of illness, pain, grief or trauma was misunderstood or brushed aside. Maybe you sat in a room hoping to feel seen, only to leave feeling smaller, more confused, or more alone.

These experiences can stay with us. They might make it hard to trust anyone again, especially someone who calls themselves a helper. You might worry you will be hurt again—or worse, not believed. And if that is where you are right now, I want you to know that it makes sense. You are protecting something precious: your sense of self, your story, your pain. It deserves to be protected.

And yet… if a part of you is still curious, still wondering whether there might be someone out there who could meet you differently—someone who will move slowly, listen deeply, and honour what you bring—I want to say that you deserve that.
You deserve care that moves at your pace. You deserve to feel safe, respected, and gently accompanied—not analysed, fixed, or rushed.

I know what it is like to be in a body and mind that have held pain for a long time. I also know what it is like to be dismissed or misunderstood in that pain. It is what shaped the kind of therapist I became. My work now is to create a space where you do not have to explain everything, justify your pain, or try to fit into a box that does not reflect your truth.

If and when you are ready, therapy can be different. It can be a place where your past experiences—including harm from therapy itself—are held with care and respect.

Until then, please know this:
You are not alone.
You are not broken.
And your story still matters.