A pain drawer
I think of a pain drawer as an inner place where grief can rest when it cannot be held right now. Not locked away and not denied, just placed somewhere safe until there are enough inner resources to return to it. In times of collective grief and ongoing sorrow, this drawer allows me to stay present, to choose light when needed, and to come back to the pain with care.
Some days are better than others
Some mornings unfold in unexpected ways. Today Arthur ended up with two breakfasts because I completely misread the clues my partner left behind. He was thrilled, of course, and as he melted at my feet, I realized that some days you just get a double. Tiny gifts like this appear quietly, and it’s worth noticing them when they do.
The natural healing force within us
I recently heard a Hippocrates quote in an IFS webinar that stayed with me: “The physician is within.” It reminded me how many cultures recognize an inner wisdom, a warm and steady place that moves us toward balance. In IFS we call it the Self. When even one of its qualities appears — calm, curiosity, clarity, compassion, confidence, or connectedness — something inside softens. Healing often begins there, not through force but through safety, trust, and small moments of openness.
Reflecting on my approach to therapy
My approach to therapy has shifted over the years. I once separated expressive arts therapy, clay work, and traditional counselling, but now I feel how naturally they belong together. Healing can come not only from exploring pain but also from joy, ease, play, and creativity. This reflection is an invitation to imagine therapy as a space that can hold both.
Learning to let go
As therapists we build real relationships that exist inside the frame of each session. Showing up fully and then letting go is emotional work, and it can be hard not to carry one story into the next. Peer support has been essential in helping me honour endings, stay grounded, and continue this work with clarity and care.
Discovering our parts
For many years I have worked in the separate fields of clay and therapy, and now I’m starting to slowly integrate them in the same space. Through touch, shape, and presence we can discover our inner world, connect with our parts, and listen to what lives quietly inside us. Parts in Clay grew from this meeting of material and ethereal, a space where creativity becomes a path toward healing.
Practicing Resilience Through Everyday Experiences
Walking my dog through Vancouver’s heavy rain, I was reminded how simple moments can teach resilience. Mindfulness isn’t always about calm or comfort — sometimes it’s about standing in the storm, feeling every drop, and finding peace right there.