Why There's a Dolphin in My Logo

I have always struggled with capturing what's inside in a way that feels true. I don't 'see' emotions in outlines and sketches. I see movement. I see energy. I see the way something flows or pauses, how it glides or bristles. That's why when I try to understand people, feelings, or experiences, animals often come to mind.

Not because of what those animals mean in some textbook-symbolism way. But because of how they move.

For example, someone might embody the shape of a bear – not because they're angry, but because they walk through the world with that slow, grounded, determined weight.

So, when I thought about what image might capture the heart of my work as a counsellor, I kept coming back to one creature: the dolphin.

The Dolphin is a Companion

I don't see myself as cart-horse, dragging someone forward or a marsupial, tucking someone away and shielding them from the world.

Instead, as a counsellor, I see myself as a dolphin in the water beside you. Swimming alongside. Sometimes leading, sometimes hanging back. Offering guidance when it's needed. Creating space when it's time for you to take the lead. And eventually, if you're ready, I swim away – trusting that you now have what you need.

Why the Dolphin Made It into the Logo

It's not just an aesthetic choice. It's a philosophy. A way of being. A reminder that support doesn't always need to be loud, or forceful, or obvious. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can offer one another is presence. Movement. Gentle companionship through deep waters.

That's why you'll see a dolphin in my logo. Because that's how I see this work. Not static. Not fixed. But alive, flowing, and always in motion – just like us.

If this way of working appeals to you – gentle, companionable, attuned – then perhaps we're already halfway to understanding one another.

Who I Work With

I work with people who are navigating life's shifting tides and are in the midst of change – especially the kind of change that leaves life feeling unfamiliar or uncertain.

People who have cared for someone they love right up to their final breath. People moving through the quiet heartbreak of divorce or the sudden stillness after a relationship ends. People facing the tender changes that come with menopause, or the ache and space left behind when children grow and go.

These moments are full of endings – but also, quietly, the possibility of something new. If you're ready to move through that with someone swimming alongside you, I'd be honoured to be that presence.