I began my life as a therapist when I was six years old. I would try to get my mother out of bed in the morning -- or whenever she'd turn her face to the wall and crawl into her long depressions and anxiety attacks. There was nothing I could do for her. She was adrift in an internal world and my presence irritated her. We lived at that time in a small town in the Kalahari Desert at the end of colonial rule in Africa when the freedom wars were raging all around us. My mother hated Africa, I was saved by it's beauty.
Many years later, in London, I began to work in the mental health field, as a volunteer. I had little more than a bush education at the time.When I married and came to America in 1986, I began a formal education for the first time in my life: I earned a BA in Psychology, a MSW, and a degree in psychoanalytic psychotherapy. I'd reached the point when I could begin to help people with the kind of problems my mother had experienced, but this time I had the skills to be of help. I specialized in trauma, since my childhood had been traumatic, and then included marriage counseling and relationship issues. My aim was to help couples who had become adrift from one another and the work was exhilarating. People, I've come to see, enter therapy with problems about love: the need and longing for love, and the capacity to destroy or save love. This is the work we will do together, learning how to stay connected, to love better, to be happy.