I first came across the word “psychology” in an English class when I was a child. My teacher challenged me to spell it correctly—I got it wrong, but the word stayed with me. I went home that day and looked it up, not just for its spelling but for what it meant. That moment sparked a curiosity that never quite left me.

Over the years, that curiosity grew into a deep desire to understand the inner lives of people—including my own. My journey into counselling has been shaped as much by my academic training as it has been by lived experiences—of queerness, chronic illness, grief, and the complex work of unlearning.

I chose to become a counsellor not to “fix” people, but to walk alongside them as they make sense of their stories, hold their contradictions, and reclaim the parts of themselves that may have been silenced. Therapy, for me, is a space of gentleness and resistance. It is where we reimagine who we are outside the scripts written for us.

Therapy is a space where you can take things at your own pace. You don’t have to come in with all the answers—or even know exactly what you want to talk about. It’s a space to slowly explore what’s been going on for you, with someone walking alongside you. 

Therapy isn’t about quick fixes—it’s a process that takes time, care, and honesty. Sometimes it can feel slow, and that’s okay. Change often comes in small, steady ways. What matters most is that you keep showing up for yourself, and we figure things out together. You’re not alone in it.

I hope to build a relationship that feels safe, respectful, and collaborative. In our work together, you get to decide what feels important to talk about, and we move at a pace that feels right for you. We may set goals together—both short-term and long-term—but those goals will come from your own needs, experiences, and priorities.

I also believe it’s important to keep checking in—not just about the process, but also about how you’re feeling in the space with me. You always have the right to speak up, slow down, ask questions, or shift direction. My role is to support you, not to lead the way for you. We build this space together, step by step.

That we’re all made of stories—and those stories are always shifting. Every client I’ve worked with has reminded me how deeply our experiences shape the way we see ourselves and the world. Even the quietest or most painful moments leave traces in our narratives.

What I’ve learnt is that people carry so much wisdom, even when they feel lost or stuck. The courage it takes to relook at one’s own story, question it, grieve it, or rewrite parts of it—that’s something I deeply respect. My clients have shown me that healing doesn’t always look like “getting better”—sometimes it’s just about making space for your truth.

One strength I deeply value is my awareness of the power and privilege I hold in different spaces. This awareness helps me show up with more care and humility in the therapy room—especially when working with folks whose lives are shaped by systems of marginalisation.

I try to create a space where people feel respected and understood, not just as individuals, but also in the context of the world they live in. I also bring curiosity, honesty, and gentleness into my work—and I try to meet each person where they are, without rushing them.

My approach to therapy is deeply rooted in understanding your story—not just as an individual, but also as someone shaped by your family, culture, identity, and the world around you. I work from a narrative and trauma-informed lens, which means I hold space for your experiences while also noticing how systems like caste, gender, class, and ability shape your emotional life.

Together, we may explore your emotions, memories, and relationships using conversation, creative tools like art or craft, and body-based techniques like somatic awareness or tapping (EFT). You don’t need to be “artistic” or know anything in advance—these are just gentle ways to connect with parts of yourself that words alone may not reach.

I also work at your pace. Whether you’re feeling overwhelmed or unsure, we’ll figure it out together—with curiosity, care, and no pressure to “fix” yourself.

As a person of the community, creating an affirming space isn’t just part of my work—it’s personal. I try to hold space that honours queerness in all its forms, without assumptions or judgment. I regularly engage in conversations with queer and trans* communities, attend learning spaces, and reflect on how my own identity, biases, and social location show up in the room.

I know that therapy has not always been a safe place for queer and trans* folks—and I take that seriously. I work towards being more affirming by unlearning harmful narratives, staying connected to lived experiences, and holding space for the ways queerness shows up in everyday life, relationships, grief, joy, and healing.

It’s important to me that clients don’t feel like they have to explain or justify their identity here. You get to just be.