Trish Morgan Counselling Blog

What Two Trees Taught Me About Therapy

tom@fineder.co.uk (Tom Young) — Mon, 14 Sep 2026 10:07:21 GMT

A recent walk along the West Sussex Border Path gave me an unexpected lesson in perspective, one that felt like a good analogy for the therapeutic relationship.

In the distance, I saw two trees that looked as though they were growing together. Could that be possible, I wondered? Were they somehow part of each other?

As I got closer, I saw what was really going on. They were simply two trees, planted side by side, with a branch from the first reaching out in front of the second. From a distance, they'd looked connected. Close up, they were clearly two trees, each independent of the other.

Over time, I'll say less, because you'll be more able to work things out for yourself. We might meet less often too, just an occasional check-in on how things are going. And eventually, you may not need me at all, because you'll have internalised what you need to carry your own life forward.

Like the trees, we're never really joined. But for a while, walking this stretch of path together, it can look and feel as though we are.

New Bins!

tom@fineder.co.uk (Tom Young) — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 10:00:00 GMT

This week I picked up new glasses. I've worn reading glasses for a long while now, but I've finally taken the plunge into varifocals. And the difference is amazing.

I hadn't realised how much I'd been struggling with my eyesight. How much I was avoiding reading, or work, because I couldn't easily see what was in front of me. How often I'd guess at what something said rather than actually read it, because I couldn't see clearly.

So why did I wait so long? The answer is easy: I was scared. Scared of not getting on with varifocals (it's day three, and I'm happy to say I'm getting on just fine). Scared, too, that wearing glasses all the time meant I wasn't quite me anymore.

It made me wonder what else in my life I've been avoiding. And it made me think of how brave some of my clients are. Because I think coming to therapy, and opening up to a stranger, is hard, especially about the things you're sure no one else will understand.

Sometimes we feel things aren’t quite right, but don’t know what to do to make them better. This is where therapy can help. I offer you a place where you can talk about whatever’s bothering you – even if you’re not able to put words to what that is yet. I won’t tell you what to do, but I will help you understand what has been going on for you and to help you determine the best way forward.

Just like my new glasses are supporting me now, as a therapist I'll be beside you, helping you see more clearly what's been going on for you.

Give me a try. You might just see things a little clearer.

Grief hits you when you least expect it.

tom@fineder.co.uk (Tom Young) — Mon, 17 Aug 2026 10:00:00 GMT

It's 34 years ago today that my Mum passed.

I still miss her. Of course I still miss her. She was, and in some ways still is, the heart of our family. When it happened it was brutal. I was young, 26, but I don't think it matters how old you are when your mum passes, or what your relationship was like. At that moment, the child in you just wants your mum to make it all better.

I had a client recently ask me how long it takes to get over grief. Get over it. It doesn't feel like the right way to think about it. I don't want to get over my Mum passing, but that doesn't mean it's still the same pain. Life grows around the wound, and eventually you're able to smile at memories more than cry. To think about the person warts and all, and how they shaped your life.

Grief isn't linear. It's not something you can measure, comparing how you feel one day against the next. Sometimes something random comes out of the blue, a smell, a conversation, a character in a film, and suddenly you're back in the heart of it. But as time passes, it does ease. Talking can help. I had one client talk about someone they'd loved and lost so vividly that I felt like I'd known him too, and felt the loss of him no longer being around.

If you've experienced grief and are looking for some support, give me a call. I'm sorry for whatever loss brought you here. I'd welcome the chance to sit beside you while you process this, and to get to know your loved one through your memories.

Who's in Control in Therapy?

tom@fineder.co.uk (Tom Young) — Sun, 19 Jul 2026 10:00:00 GMT

New clients often ask me what they should talk about in therapy. My answer is always the same: whatever's on your mind.

I recently had the opportunity to run a workshop, together with the amazing Nilima Choudhury, at the Person-Centred Association's annual conference. The two-hour session focused on power.

A lot of our workshop looked at how we, as therapists, hold power within the counselling industry. Coming back into the office afterwards, having a client ask me what they should talk about reminded me of the power we carry in the therapy room, and how we choose to use it.

Coming to counselling for the first time can feel really daunting, and I understand why people get nervous. But it doesn't have to be that way. As a therapist, I don't force you to talk about things that feel uncomfortable. As they say in America, it's your dime, you talk about what you want.

It's an opportunity to slow down and be heard. When was the last time you felt truly heard? And once you're heard, you can start to work out what's next for you.

The ball's in your court. Is there something that's been on your mind you'd like to talk about?

Give me a try. I promise I'm not scary.

The Weird Thing About Counselling

tom@fineder.co.uk (Tom Young) — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 10:00:00 GMT

One of the weird things about counselling (and there are a few, but this is one) is that when you're feeling most vulnerable, you have to reach out and ask someone you don't know for help.

Like if you're feeling anxious. Having panic attacks for what feels like no reason. Scared to do the things you used to do. Like everything is too much. That's exactly when you have to put that overwhelm to one side and ask someone for help. See? Weird.

I have two thoughts here.

The first is that you don't need to wait until life feels too much to reach out for therapy. Sometimes the best work is done when you're in a better place and able to reflect on what's going on for you.

If you're feeling anxious right now, the second thought is for you. You can contact me by filling in this form. I'll email you back, suggest some dates, and once we find a time that works for both of us, we can meet regularly, usually weekly, to talk through what's on your mind.

As I think about you, I wonder if you're wondering whether your anxiety is too much for me. It's not. I wonder if you're wondering whether you can tell me all of it, not just the curated version you tell your friends, because it feels like such a lot. You can. I wonder if you're wondering whether I can make a difference. Whether anyone can.

What therapy does is give you a place to talk about what's on your mind. It could be your anxiety. It could be a conversation you had at work last week. It could be an argument you had ten years ago that still bugs you. And once you talk about something, once you give it some air, it becomes something we can look at together, understand together, and find a way forward through, together.

I can't promise you an instant cure after one session. But I can promise you a place where you'll be met with acceptance and understanding.

Now, that doesn't feel too scary, does it?