Curiosity lies at the heart of the way I work as a therapist.
Over the years I have found myself returning to the same questions: How do people really change?
Why can insight sometimes fail to bring freedom? What can allow us to live more fully with ourselves and with others?
The reflections that follow grew out of those questions. Some explore therapy directly; others consider shame, relationships, uncertainty and the gradual process of psychological growth.
They are not intended to offer definitive answers, but to think carefully about experiences many of us recognise. If something here resonates with you, I hope you'll continue reading. And if, along the way, you find yourself looking at your own experience a little differently, then these reflections will have done what I hoped they might.
If one reflection particularly catches your interest, you might like to begin there. Otherwise, they are intended to be read as a conversation that gradually unfolds.
If something here leaves you wondering about your own experience, I'd be very happy to wonder with you.
Curiosity lies at the heart of the way I work as a therapist.
Over the years I have found myself returning to the same questions: How do people really change?
Why can insight sometimes fail to bring freedom? What can allow us to live more fully with ourselves and with others?
The reflections that follow grew out of those questions. Some explore therapy directly; others consider shame, relationships, uncertainty and the gradual process of psychological growth.
They are not intended to offer definitive answers, but to think carefully about experiences many of us recognise. If something here resonates with you, I hope you'll continue reading. And if, along the way, you find yourself looking at your own experience a little differently, then these reflections will have done what I hoped they might.
If one reflection particularly catches your interest, you might like to begin there. Otherwise, they are intended to be read as a conversation that gradually unfolds.
If something here leaves you wondering about your own experience, I'd be very happy to wonder with you.
Reflections
Why Curiosity Matters
Why curiosity may be the beginning of psychological growth.
Continue→
Why insight isn't enough
Why understanding ourselves doesn't always bring freedom.
Continue→
Living with Uncertainty
Why certainty can sometimes keep us stuck.
Continue→
Why therapy isn't really about fixing yourself
A different way of thinking about change.
Continue→
What does growth actually feel like
The quiet ways our lives begin to open.
Continue→
Why Curiosity?
There are many ways of thinking about psychological growth. Some focus on changing our thoughts. Others on managing emotions or developing healthier habits. All of these can be valuable.Yet, over the years, I have found myself returning to one quality again and again. Not because it offers quick answers, but because it seems to create the conditions in which change becomes possible. That quality is curiosity.
When we hear the word, we often think of learning new facts or asking lots of questions. I mean something rather different. I am thinking of the quiet willingness to stay with our experience before rushing to explain it. The capacity to wonder, rather than immediately conclude. Most of us spend our lives trying to make sense of ourselves. We develop stories about who we are, why we react as we do, and what has happened to us. These stories matter. They help us organise experience and make life feel more coherent.
Yet, over time, they can also become surprisingly fixed. We stop treating them as interpretations and begin to experience them as facts. "I've always been anxious." "I'm just someone who pushes people away." "I always get this wrong." There may be truth in each of these statements. But I wonder whether they always tell the whole story. Curiosity doesn't ask us to reject what we believe about ourselves. Nor does it suggest that every difficulty has a hidden explanation waiting to be discovered. Instead, it invites us to hold our conclusions a little more lightly.
To remain open to the possibility that there is more to our experience than we have yet been able to see. That isn't always comfortable. There are times when certainty feels much safer than curiosity. If life has been painful or confusing, reaching a conclusion can provide a welcome sense of stability. We decide who we are, what other people are like, or what the future will hold. Those conclusions may once have helped us make sense of difficult experiences.
The difficulty is that what once protected us can sometimes begin to limit us. If we are completely certain about who we are, it becomes difficult to notice the moments that don't quite fit the story. Curiosity creates room for those moments. It doesn't force them into a new explanation; it simply allows them to exist. This way of thinking has shaped both my therapeutic work and my writing.
In therapy, curiosity often proves more helpful than certainty. Rather than rushing to explain or fix, we try to understand what an experience feels like, where it may have come from, and what it might be asking of us. That process is rarely quick, but it can be deeply transformative. Outside therapy, I believe curiosity has something equally important to offer. It can soften certainty, deepen relationships, and help us meet ourselves with a little more kindness and a little less judgement. It reminds us that we are often more complex than the stories we tell ourselves.
The pages gathered here explore that idea from different angles. Some reflect on therapy, others on shame, uncertainty, growth, or the experience of becoming ourselves. They are not intended to provide definitive answers. If anything, I hope they do the opposite. I hope they leave you with a few questions worth living with.
There are many ways of thinking about psychological growth. Some focus on changing our thoughts. Others on managing emotions or developing healthier habits. All of these can be valuable.Yet, over the years, I have found myself returning to one quality again and again. Not because it offers quick answers, but because it seems to create the conditions in which change becomes possible. That quality is curiosity.
When we hear the word, we often think of learning new facts or asking lots of questions. I mean something rather different. I am thinking of the quiet willingness to stay with our experience before rushing to explain it. The capacity to wonder, rather than immediately conclude. Most of us spend our lives trying to make sense of ourselves. We develop stories about who we are, why we react as we do, and what has happened to us. These stories matter. They help us organise experience and make life feel more coherent.
Yet, over time, they can also become surprisingly fixed. We stop treating them as interpretations and begin to experience them as facts. "I've always been anxious." "I'm just someone who pushes people away." "I always get this wrong." There may be truth in each of these statements. But I wonder whether they always tell the whole story. Curiosity doesn't ask us to reject what we believe about ourselves. Nor does it suggest that every difficulty has a hidden explanation waiting to be discovered. Instead, it invites us to hold our conclusions a little more lightly.
To remain open to the possibility that there is more to our experience than we have yet been able to see. That isn't always comfortable. There are times when certainty feels much safer than curiosity. If life has been painful or confusing, reaching a conclusion can provide a welcome sense of stability. We decide who we are, what other people are like, or what the future will hold. Those conclusions may once have helped us make sense of difficult experiences.
The difficulty is that what once protected us can sometimes begin to limit us. If we are completely certain about who we are, it becomes difficult to notice the moments that don't quite fit the story. Curiosity creates room for those moments. It doesn't force them into a new explanation; it simply allows them to exist. This way of thinking has shaped both my therapeutic work and my writing.
In therapy, curiosity often proves more helpful than certainty. Rather than rushing to explain or fix, we try to understand what an experience feels like, where it may have come from, and what it might be asking of us. That process is rarely quick, but it can be deeply transformative. Outside therapy, I believe curiosity has something equally important to offer. It can soften certainty, deepen relationships, and help us meet ourselves with a little more kindness and a little less judgement. It reminds us that we are often more complex than the stories we tell ourselves.
The pages gathered here explore that idea from different angles. Some reflect on therapy, others on shame, uncertainty, growth, or the experience of becoming ourselves. They are not intended to provide definitive answers. If anything, I hope they do the opposite. I hope they leave you with a few questions worth living with.