I'm interested in the edges

I've always been interested in the places where things get a little less certain. The moments when what’s familiar starts to shift, when we're questioning what we've always believed, or when the ways we've learned to move through the world don't quite seem to fit anymore.

I'm drawn to people who find themselves at these edges — sometimes by choice, sometimes because life has brought them there. It might be a significant transition, like becoming a parent, moving through menopause, experiencing grief or navigating a change in identity. It might be a quieter sense of restlessness, a growing awareness that something isn't quite right, or a desire to understand yourself more deeply.

I'm also interested in the edges of what we're told is normal or expected. The ways we can spend so much of our lives trying to fit into ideas about how to be, how to relate, how to work, how to parent or how to live. I have a soft spot for people who are finding their own way of being in the world, especially when that way doesn't follow a particularly conventional path.

I don't necessarily think these edges are places we need to get away from. They can be uncomfortable, uncertain and sometimes pretty messy. But they can also be places of possibility. Places where we get to question old stories, discover what matters to us and imagine different ways of living.

A creative path

My path to counselling wasn't a straight line. I originally trained as an actor at Studio 58 and spent many years working in theatre, film and voice, as well as teaching movement to actors at Vancouver Film School.

I've always been interested in expression — how we communicate what we can't always put into words, how our bodies hold and express our experiences, and how stories shape the way we understand ourselves. My work in theatre and movement eventually led me towards expressive arts therapy, and then into counselling.

I continue to be influenced by the creative process. I'm interested in what happens when we approach something from a different angle, follow our curiosity, experiment, or allow ourselves to be surprised by what emerges. S

What life has taught me

My own life has included its share of unexpected turns, identity shifts and experiences that have changed how I see myself and the world.

I've experienced the complexity of motherhood, including the ways it can bring both enormous love and a profound reorientation of identity. I've also grown up in a family where care and responsibility have been significant parts of life, and have seen how those roles can shape the people who take them on. And as I embark on this perimenopause journey I’m navigating who I am becoming all over again.

These experiences have made me interested in the relationship between who we are and the roles we occupy. How easily our own needs, desires and identities can become tangled up with what other people need from us, or what we believe we're supposed to be.

How I show up in this work

I'm warm, curious, attentive and direct when it feels helpful. I value honesty and kindness, and I believe there's room for humour and laughter even when we're talking about difficult things. In fact, sometimes it's important that there is.

I love the depth of this work: getting curious together, making connections, uncovering patterns and exploring the things that might be difficult to say out loud. I'm interested in what lies underneath our reactions and habits, where our beliefs about ourselves came from, and whether the ways we've learned to cope are still serving us.

I see you as the expert on your own life. My role isn't to tell you who you should be or how you should live, but to bring my training, experience and perspective into a collaborative process. I think of us as co-researchers: exploring what's happening, making sense of what we discover and finding new possibilities together.

I bring my whole self to this work, and I hope to create a space where you can do the same. You don't need to have it all figured out. We can start wherever you are.