The human behind the therapy
Life on the Wirral,
a house full of animals
I'm Sam. I live on the Wirral, Merseyside, and my house is, depending on how you look at it, either wonderfully chaotic or perfectly lived in. Four adult children (all flown the nest, mostly), two dogs and two cats. I'm a nature lover, a spiritual person (though not religious), and I find more peace in a decent walk than in most other things.
I came to this work not through a neat career plan but through genuine curiosity about human beings and what makes us tick, particularly in the messy, complicated, wonderful territory of sex, gender, and relationships. After nearly two decades in it, that curiosity hasn't dimmed even slightly.
I'm also an adoptee, from the forced adoption era of 1949 to 1975. That's not a small thing. Growing up without the context of your biological family shapes how you understand identity, belonging, and the stories you tell yourself about who you are. It's part of why I care so deeply about the work I do, and why I never underestimate what it takes for someone to walk into a therapy room, or open a video call, and start talking about the things they've never said out loud before.
Identity and lived experience
Coming out in my 40s
I identify as gender fluid and gay. Which means I know first-hand that identity isn't fixed, that life genuinely doesn't follow a script, and that figuring yourself out later in life is not a failure. It's just a different timeline.
I am not an outside observer of the LGBTQ+ community, the gender questioning world, or the kink and BDSM communities. I'm part of them. That changes everything about how this therapy feels for clients who are tired of having to explain their lives from scratch before the actual work can begin.
When you come to me, you don't need a glossary. You don't need to justify your relationship structure, your gender, your sexuality, or your kinks. You can just get on with the bit that actually matters: figuring out what you want, and how to get there.