Therapy for Long-Standing Emotional Patterns Rooted in Childhood

Thoughtful, trauma-informed therapy for adults who’ve managed on their own for a long time, but feel stuck in repeating emotional patterns.

Most people who come to see me aren’t in a crisis.
They’ve usually been managing a complex internal world for a long time without the help of anyone else.

Often, these are people who developed a strong sense of independence early on.

They take care of other people. They take care of themselves.

They don’t tend to ask for help easily — and sometimes they don’t even come to therapy because they were actively looking for it.

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Some arrive via their GP after physical symptoms appear, such as a fast heart rate or ongoing signs of stress. Others come having already read psychology books, reflected deeply, and tried to understand themselves — hoping that insight alone might do the work that therapy would otherwise do.

They are often thoughtful, capable, reflective people.
And yet something still feels unresolved.

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You might recognise yourself if:

• You’ve been coping on your own for a long time, but something now feels unsustainable

• You notice patterns that repeat, even though you understand yourself quite well

• You function outwardly, but your internal world feels effortful or heavy

• Your body seems to signal stress before your mind does

• You find yourself thinking, “I understand this — so why does it keep happening?”

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In our work together, one of the first things we do is gently look at patterns — particularly the ones that feel compulsive or unexplained.

These might include repeated cycles of burnout: working hard, keeping everything going, holding all the plates up — and then suddenly finding yourself depleted or off sick, wondering how it happened again.

Patterns might also show up through alcohol use at certain times, through relationships that follow a familiar shape, through pursuing people who are emotionally unavailable, or through a strong pull to rescue or take responsibility for others.

When something feels repetitive, driven, or difficult to interrupt, it’s usually a pattern that can be understood. And it’s something we can figure out together.

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When we talk about childhood origins, the aim isn’t to blame parents. It’s to understand context.

Ways of relating are passed down through families. Each family has a style, often shaped by what the adults themselves were given or not given. Some families simply don’t have a language for a child’s emotional world. That doesn’t mean they didn’t care — it means they may not have known that children need help to understand, regulate, and make sense of their feelings.

Providing meals, clothing, and structure may have been experienced as love — and for many parents, that was parenting. Over time, psychology has helped us understand that children need more than that. They need emotional attunement, help with feelings, and a sense of being known.

In therapy, we don’t generalise childhood. We look for specific memories — particular moments where feelings were formed. The emotional tone of those moments often turns out to be the same feeling that is still playing out in the present.

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When I use the word trauma, I’m usually not talking about extreme or dramatic events.

Developmental trauma is very common and often goes unnamed. It simply describes experiences that happened when you were too young, too dependent, or too overwhelmed for your system to process at the time.

A child’s nervous system depends entirely on caregivers. Safety, connection, and survival are all linked. When something is emotionally too much — and there is no way to leave, protest, or change it — the system adapts. Those adaptations often become patterns that continue into adulthood.

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I work as a witness and a guide.

It’s a bit like painting a picture together. We start by looking at your life as it is now. Then, over time, you take me by the hand and show me what it was like for you earlier on. You describe it, and I witness it with you.

As I witness your childhood experiences, I share my responses — and you become part of that witnessing too. That process matters. Being seen with, and responded to, is often the beginning of change.

As we understand where certain feelings come from, it becomes possible to let some of that emotional weight loosen. Not by pushing it away, but by making sense of it.

Over time, people often describe feeling more integrated — with less guilt, less shame, and a quieter inner critic. The relationship they have with themselves begins to resemble the care a loving parent would have for a child: warm, protective, and accepting.

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This work tends to suit people who are managing their lives reasonably well on the outside, even if their internal world feels heavy or effortful.

It’s often a good fit if you can reflect on yourself, tolerate emotional exploration, and bring a degree of steadiness to sessions — even when we’re talking about difficult things.

It’s less suited to people who are in acute crisis, feeling emotionally overwhelmed much of the time, or needing very intensive, ongoing containment. In those situations, a more structured or specialised service is usually more supportive.

I work best with people who are ready to look at patterns, stay with feelings long enough to understand them, and gradually work towards change.

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I’m not rigid in how I work, but there is a shape to the therapy.

We usually have a beginning, a middle, and an end — and we’re working towards something. I’m interested in therapy being meaningful and effective, rather than endless.

The pace is collaborative. Some people arrive with clear issues they want to work on. Others need time to be listened to first — especially if that wasn’t something they had earlier in life. Both are part of the work.

When there’s a problem that’s causing distress, we usually want to understand it and work with it, so that things can genuinely shift.

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I work online, which gives people choice and control.

Many people find it easier to talk from the comfort and privacy of their own home, rather than travelling to a clinic or sitting in an unfamiliar room. Online therapy can feel contained, focused, and surprisingly personal.

Sessions are your time. I don’t write notes or do paperwork during sessions — that happens around them — so that the space is fully yours.

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People often arrive at this point carrying feelings they’ve lived with for a long time. They may have tried to manage them by staying strong, staying busy, or repeating familiar patterns that offered some relief.

The decision to begin therapy is often less about urgency, and more about readiness.

If you’re feeling a sense of quiet commitment — a sense of “I’m ready to look at this properly now” — then this work is likely to suit you.

Many people I work with describe feeling lighter, clearer, and more at ease with themselves than they have in years — sometimes after having tried other approaches.

If this resonates, you’re welcome to book an initial session.

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