I came across a recent YoungMinds Instagram post celebrating the government’s announcement that, by 2029/30, every child in England will have access to mental health support in school. It’s a huge win for campaigners, and an important step in acknowledging the scale of the crisis facing young people today.

But as I read it, I found myself sitting with mixed feelings.
Access matters.

But access alone isn’t prevention, and it doesn’t address the structural conditions that lead so many children to struggle in the first place.

Here’s what I believe we need to talk about alongside funding:
How we understand difference.
How we structure education.

And what it really means to support children before they reach crisis point. Because we were all kids once too. And I hear those voices in the therapy room, daily.

What if some of the most widely accepted ideas in therapy aren't universally helpful? In recent years, more therapists have begun to question traditional approaches to mental health.

In this article, I’m sharing some of my own unpopular opinions about the therapy profession, drawn from my work with neurodivergent clients and grounded in psychodynamic and neuroaffirmative thinking. If you're a counsellor, psychotherapist, coach, or mental health professional who’s ever questioned the frame we're trained to work within, you're not alone.

Creative, neurodivergent-affirming therapy for queer women, late-diagnosed adults, and self-curious souls. I offer online therapy for autistic, ADHD, and highly sensitive people, especially those exploring identity, queerness, burnout, or the mother wound. Rooted in Jungian and creative approaches, my work supports neurodivergent women and queer clients to unmask, reconnect with themselves, and move through life transitions with clarity and self-trust.

Marketing as a therapist can feel like walking a tightrope between authenticity and visibility. This honest reflection explores how trainee and established therapists can navigate online presence, self-disclosure, and branding, without losing their values, boundaries, or connection to the work.

In 2025, rigid gendered archetypes feel about as useful as a VHS tape in a streaming era (I mean, pretty to look at and sentimental value, but beyond that?! think about all the plastic itself...).

Jung’s anima/animus concept was groundbreaking in its time, but intersectional feminism, queer theory, and modern therapy push us to ask: why are we still talking about "the feminine within men" and "the masculine within women" when identity is far more complex?

What if, instead of outdated binaries, we saw these archetypal energies as fluid, shifting, and shaped by culture rather than biology? What happens when therapy helps clients break free from old myths and rewrite their own?

Once upon a time, therapy was a serious profession for serious men with serious beards only. They sat in high-backed chairs, took notes with furrowed brows, and occasionally asked: and how, indeed, does that make you feel? (But only as a trap, they already knew you were hysterical, not in the ha-ha, you are so funny, way though).

Fast forward, and now most therapists are women. In my own training, 97% of us were. Therapy has changed, but has it really? The theories we use, the ways we measure progress, the frameworks that shape the field? Still mostly developed by men.

BUT does gender matter in therapy?
Yes and no. Let’s dig in.

15 years ago, my (amazing) therapist tried to ditch me, gently nudging me toward group therapy.

I refused.

It took me much longer to give it a go, but when I did, I learned more through the discomfort of that setup than I ever expected. Turns out, I still had a lot to discover about myself.

Groups are draining, awkward, and, let’s be honest, often chaotic.

And yet group therapy works, even (and especially) for the people who least expect it to.

Question we all wanted to ask but didn’t know how: do people ever crush on their therapists (but like, really?!).

It happens more often than you’d think. But before you fall into a what-if embarrassment spiral, know it’s not really about them.

ADHD as a superpower? Nah, or maybe not only....

How and where does one even start thinking about self-care?

The debate is interesting, so let’s think together. Why is it so (relatively) easy to find an ADHD coach but… that’s it? ASD? AudDHD? What about a specialist therapeutic support?

I hate change. With all my might, I hate it. Move a chair while I’m not in the room and watch me flip. But here’s the thing: change, in therapy, is a big deal. It will change you. That can be excruciating, but it’s also the very thing that opens the door to deeper self-awareness, healing, and growth. If you’re not ready to face this - if you need more time - that’s fine. But also, where else will you stretch your capacity for change, if not in therapy?