About me and my therapeutic practice
You've spent a lot of time understanding yourself. You've probably read widely, reflected deeply, maybe seen a therapist or a coach before. You're not new to this. And yet here you are.
Something hasn't shifted, not because you haven't tried, but because some things don't shift through understanding alone. There are patterns that run beneath the level of insight. There is a distance from yourself, from your own feeling, your own body, your own sense of what you want, that no amount of knowing about yourself has yet closed.
This kind of work is different. It asks you to go further than you've been before: not to only understand yourself more, but to meet yourself more fully, the parts that have stayed hidden, the histories still alive in the present, the version of you that exists beneath the one you show the world. This is what I work with.
My Story
I grew up in Romania, inside a family where two entirely different worldviews sat at the same table, my maternal and paternal families holding opposing ways of understanding life, security, identity, and what it meant to be a person. I didn't have to go looking for contradiction, it was the condition I came up in. I learned early what it is to hold opposing realities at once: security and precarity, belonging and displacement, the person others saw and the person I knew myself to be.
At 22 I left for Cyprus, where I lived for eight years, a second language, a second culture, a second set of assumptions about how life should be organised. Then the UK, where I’ve been for the last decade.
That experience of living in between, of not quite fitting the categories you're given, doesn't leave you. But it can become something. For me, it became a particular capacity: to hold opposing realities without needing to flatten them, to sit inside complexity without forcing resolution, to be genuinely curious about the parts of a person, including myself, that don't fit their own story of themselves.
Self-awareness, for me, is not an end in itself, it is the only place from which real choice becomes possible. You cannot change what you cannot see and you cannot see clearly what you have never been willing to look at directly.
I came to therapy not as a career move but as a calling, the answer to something I had been working out long before I put a name to it. I’m still working through my own material. I don’t pretend otherwise, and that honesty is present in every session.
How I Work
What clients often notice first is the pace. There is no rush to the presenting problem, no sense that a tick-box is being worked through. I follow the thread of what's alive in the room, which is sometimes not what the client expected to talk about.
I listen closely, but I also track what isn't being said: what lives in the body, in the hesitation, in the image or memory that surfaces unexpectedly. I may invite you to stay with a feeling rather than interpret it immediately, to notice what a particular word or moment does in your body before you explain it away.
Clients often say I seem to be several steps ahead, and then, with time, they recognise that I’m leading them to something they already knew but hadn't yet let themselves know. The work is collaborative, but it has direction. I will follow you, and when it matters, I will lead.
What This Work Is and Isn't
Depth therapy is not a course of treatment with a defined endpoint. It is not a set of techniques applied to a problem. And it will not, at any point, do all the work for you.
What it is: a serious, patient inquiry into the parts of yourself that sit outside your conscious awareness, the parts that aren't always easy or pleasant to look at. The parts that carry shame, or pain, or the residue of experiences you thought you'd processed. This work asks you to develop trust, in the process, in the relationship, and in your own capacity to bear what you find.
It gets harder before it gets easier. That is not a warning, it is an honest description of what genuine change involves. Expect more questions than answers. Expect some loss of the certainty or identity you arrived with. Expect confusion, and difficult emotions, and periods where your footing feels less clear than it was. This is not a sign that something is wrong. It is a sign that something is moving.
This work takes the time it needs. Not because progress is slow, but because the kind of change that lasts cannot be rushed.
This work is probably not right for you if you're looking for someone to tell you exactly how to live your life, or if you want strategies without wanting to understand where the problem came from, or if you're not yet ready to commit to showing up, consistently, honestly, over time.
You are ready to begin if you are willing to be patient and kind with yourself, if you sense there is deeper work that has been waiting, and if you are willing to look honestly at what has been avoided. Then this is the right place.
If something here has landed, if you've found yourself reading further than you expected to, that's usually a sign worth paying attention to.
The next step is simply a phone call: no forms, no commitments, no expectation. A chance to say a little about where you are, ask anything you need to, and hear whether this feels like the right fit.