People come to me with a sense that something in their life is out of place — sometimes unmistakable, sometimes quietly persistent, often accompanied by guilt or shame.
As we look more closely together, the picture shifts in a noticeable way. Often, good reasons become clearer for why people find themselves meeting their boundaries — boundaries that may have remained unclear for a long time, or that have been crossed again and again.
I meet people whose needs were not adequately met for a long time. In response, mostly unconsciously, strategies developed to cope with this reality. Many of these are still at work today. At the same time, personal needs often come into conflict with outer expectations. This is often where the inner journey begins: coming to know one’s own boundaries, and how to hold them — and being able to name needs and feelings within a protected space of presence and compassion.
A respectful space where everything that is present is allowed to be — seen and heard — without needing to be changed and without being judged.
My roots are in Gestalt therapy and in the humanistic view of the person. Both shape how I perceive, how I ask, and how I understand inner processes. At the same time, method is not the center of my work — the shared space is: presence, contact, and a careful attention to what is actually unfolding. Methods are tools — helpful when they fit — but never more important than a living encounter.
I work through gentle approach — at the pace of the person I’m with. No one has to open inner doors before trust has grown. Often the real work is to arrive together at that threshold — in contact with all inner parts, and with a quality of truthfulness that is not forced, but becomes possible.
For many years, my work took place in direct, face-to-face encounters. For the last two years, my dog Leela has been part of the setting — often sensing emotional nuances and supporting contact beyond language, and offering a joyful welcome to everyone who arrives.
During the pandemic years, conversations also moved online, and I found — somewhat to my own surprise — how steady and connected real contact can be in this form. From this, the present decision emerged to offer my work independent of location — and also internationally. My four-legged co-therapist may appear less often on screen, but will still, from time to time, be part of the field.
To get to know each other, I offer an initial conversation at no cost. It’s a chance to get a sense of one another and to see, without pressure, whether working together feels right. Any further step is a conscious choice made afterward.
My work is mainly based on one-to-one conversations. At the same time, I plan to offer group settings again in the future. From my own ongoing training experience, I see the combination of individual work and group space as especially supportive: the individual conversation allows for protected depth, while the group opens a wider field of experience.
Continuing education is not an extra for me — it is an ongoing part of my work.