Deepening my work as a family therapist, I took up a specialized training in Structural Family Therapy with Professor Timothy Sim from Singapore. At the end of part 2 training, we were invited to reflect on our key takeaway, I initially thought about the concepts, interventions, and clinical applications we had learned. Many of the content I learnt were significant such as certainty is the enemy of change, unbalancing the power, therapist distance, noticing our own auto "sel

I recently completed the Advanced Clinical Supervision training with The Bouverie Centre at La Trobe University. During one of the structured supervision exercises, I volunteered to take the role of supervisee. Instead of using a hypothetical case, I brought a real case that I had been struggling with. I wanted to experience the process for myself—not only as someone learning to supervise, but as a therapist sitting with genuine uncertainty. What stayed with me was the trai

Much of my work with families involves helping them look beyond visible behaviour and understand what may be happening within each person, between family members and across generations. In my therapy room, I often meet parents who are highly capable in their professional lives. They lead teams, make difficult decisions and solve complex problems with confidence. Yet at home, a closed door, a one-word reply or another argument with their teenager can leave them feeling helples

People often ask how I developed enough confidence and calmness early in my clinical work. The answer isn't just about learning case conceptualization, theory, or technique. It's about supervision. Not just the kind where you present a written case summary and discuss ideas. I mean the kind where you watch yourself on screen, moment by moment. You see exactly where you fumbled, where you got in your own way, and where you genuinely connected with someone. That's how I learned

Many of the adult children I work with somewhat carry the same paradox: They feel suffocated by closeness, yet deeply lonely in the distance they've created to protect themselves. For many, distance feels like survival. "If I get too close, I will lose myself." The boundary may feel somewhat harsh, but it serves a purpose. It protects them from reactions, expectations, disappointments, and old wounds that still feel too painful to revisit. Then, as parents age, another emoti

I have made it a habit to write (with AI's help in polishing my language). To write about the moments in therapy that move me, that remind me why I do the work I do, and how change is often subtle before it becomes visible. This is one such story — of a man who spent fifty years carrying the weight of a world since he was eight. Let's call him Sherlock. The Journey of Healing: A Story of Transformation When he first came to therapy three years ago, he was trapped in a painful

I had a very moving clinical supervision session recently that has stayed with me. Understanding the Challenge My supervisee—an experienced clinical psychologist who also supervises interns from a master's in clinical psychology—brought in a challenging family case. He had met with a family where the parents held higher status and presented as dominant. He found himself feeling stuck. An intense fear arose when facing a client of authority and anger. At one point, I asked him

In my therapy work, I often advocate for family therapy, to work directly with the person my clients have struggles with, to invite the family. When a client says, “My parents won’t come,” or “My teenager refuses,” I don’t hear a scheduling problem. I hear resistance. Often, it is protection—against shame, blame, vulnerability, or fear. Sometimes, it is protection against one more demand in a life already too heavy. If I meet that resistance too directly, I meet the defences.