MY STORY
I grew up in New Zealand, surrounded by wild landscapes and a spirited way of life. My early years were spent holding on for dear life to fast-moving horses and farm bikes. Both New Zealand’s and Britain’s landscapes invite me to breathe deeply in a way nothing else can. Nature, in all its aliveness, is essential to how I live and an inspiration for how we work together in therapy.
Now, I live on the edge of a large inner-city green space, where towering oak trees frame my garden as it slopes down to a quiet stream. I am moved by how reflective spaces, such as therapy, nature, gently guide us back to our innate nature, that place within us that remains untouched by life's push and pull.
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"To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”– Mary Oliver from In Blackwater Woods.
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I love the sea, gardening, good food, art, meaningful conversation, theatre, singing, writing poetry and the beauty of an ordinary life. I am the mother of two young sons and cats. I identify as queer, and I have been writing poetry and making people laugh my whole life; I believe that both art and humour hold a profound power in the healing process. I wrote my thesis on humour in psychotherapy, examining the fine line between being genuinely funny and… well, not. (Spoiler: I spent a lot of time on the 'not' part.)
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For the last 20 years, I’ve enjoyed working as an acupuncturist and clinical supervisor/senior lecturer at the College of Integrated Chinese Medicine. Working with students takes my thinking to places I’d least expect—like the intellectual equivalent of finding your phone in the fridge. They push me to the edges of my own mind, and there’s so much learning and unlearning to do. I’m ever grateful for this experience.
"I will not ask for my name to be sung back to me
but rather, I will stand
with the birds in the morning chorus
wholly pregnant with my own becoming
a bird, winged with change
settling in
destination unknown
And so,
I call myself present
to the unknown."
Charlotte B.
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The Lungs of Therapy
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And I breathed,
and breathed,
and breathed,
while my chest pumped up and down
with all the vast confusion,
terror, and fear.
I laughed and cried
for all that had been,
and the destruction.
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I hoped for all the repair,
that I could be good enough,
even though I knew
perfection didn’t exist.
Good enough
was more than there had been,
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and I rejoiced
with the trees,
the sea, birds, friends
and the simple things
as I came back
into relationship
with myself.
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Home, for good.
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CBS, 2024
There is only one question: how to love this world?
– Mary Oliver from Spring
