Month: August 2026

I want to open a quiet truth.

I live with anxiety.

It may seem unusual for a therapist to confess this, yet it feels important to share — not as a dramatic revelation, but as a way of offering something honest and useful. In a world that expects us to be robotic, it is an act of rebellion to be relationally human.

How I experience anxiety is not as a constant state of being rather it arrives in waves, without reason, unpredictably and crucially, without reason. This article is a gentle offering of my lived experience of anxiety and how I have adopted a new perspective to live with it peacefully.

Anxiety begins in the body.

One night, lying awake and unable to settle, I realised I couldn’t define the cause of the disruption, dysregulation or upset that was preventing sleep. What was worrying me, what needed to change in my life, what was the threat? As sleep was evasive, I used the time to experiment. I turned toward the experience itself — the sensations, the textures, the internal movements inside my body.

That experiment shifted everything I understood about anxiety.

Because anxiety showed up in my body in the following ways:

• Confusion between deep nausea, loss of appetite and hunger
• Food that refuses to digest, sitting heavily with reflux.
• Higher sensitivity to smells, taste and touch
• A nervous system that fizzes, trembles, or quakes internally with a higher than usual body temperature.
• A mild headache or pain in the head reducing clarity and focus.
• An accelerated flow of energy that manifests as restlessness.
• Exhaustion that recycles the disruption the next day

I began to see anxiety as an embodied event rather than something externally caused. With this new perspective I developed a sense of agency, resilience, and a return to myself.

When focussing on the felt experience of the body, the cognitive story may or may not arrive later. This is interoception: the body speaking before the mind can interpret.  My body was signalling an overwhelming collection of indicators that I had ordinarily interpreted as something was wrong.  This input of my internal reality was assuming an external threat because my body felt dysregulated.  This is exactly what phenomenology emphasises: experience is lived through the body before it is conceptualised by the mind.

When the body changes, our encounter with the world changes.

When the energy of anxiety is framed towards being caused by a situation, a person or dependent on a circumstance, it reduces agency and wellbeing becomes contingent on a world that has to be a certain way if anxiety is to be avoided.  In an unpredictable world, this perspective becomes profoundly disempowering that teaches us to be safe only when the world is one particular way. That the body cannot regulate under certain external circumstances and that the body is reactive rather than safely capable.  In other words, the internal message is something outside of me has caused the anxiety and there is little I can do about it.

When attached to an external factor anxiety can be viewed with shame by self and others.  Seen through an embodied lens, anxiety is no more shameful than pain, tiredness, or illness. It is a bodily experience asking to be noticed, understood, and met with care.

Furthermore, the pursuit of attaching anxiety to an external circumstance itself leads to more dysregulation, further angst. When the body is in an anxious state, clarity about the worldview is distorted and multiple “threats” can emerge in the mind. Asking a person to define what they are anxious about is like asking them to catch a slippery fish.  Yet clients come to counselling with the hope that the counsellor may help them fix the external stressor when the stressor may not be the true sources of the anxiety.  The story created is attached to the state of the body.

Turning inwards on my experiment that night, taught me that the sensations I felt in my body were unpleasant but not dangerous.   I was in a state of dysregulation, but I was safe and I could stay with myself.  My body would be exhausted tomorrow, but I could manage my activities with resilience.  I learned that the unpleasantness would pass.  It was not being caused by something or someone, there were no life changing decisions to be made.  It was not about confidence or ability, not about being able to relate healthily with others, nor about being able to survive life generally.  From the body, I had the control to respond to what was needed.

Existential therapy does not aim to remove anxiety, rather it embraces it as a message, and to relate to it differently, with more awareness, with intention, and an new understanding of what anxiety is – a bodily experience – rather than an external threat.

This perspective says let’s work with what is actually here — your body, your breath, your sensations — because this is where anxiety lives.

This is not avoidance of the external world; it is a return to the starting point of the experience from where the true story can emerge.

This article is an invitation to explore your own embodied experience of anxiety. Gently turn inwards and notice where anxiety appears in your body. You might ask yourself:

• What sensations are present?
• Where does anxiety show up in your body?
• How would you describe the texture, movement, or intensity of the experience?
• Where does your thinking go with it – can you stay inside yourself or is there an urge to look externally?
• How does the state of your body change your relationship to the external world?

From that place of noticing, you may be better able to ask your body what it needs. More rest, nourishment, hydration, space to slow down, or permission to soften and loosen – with less judgement on what may be happening externally. Whatever the need, this awareness can help you respond with care and agency, working with the anxiety rather than against it.  If you are experiencing an anxious body you are welcome to reach out for some time limited focussed therapy sessions.

This post is offered as a space for reflection and discussion. It is not intended to provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.

Anxiety can be distressing and, at times, debilitating. If anxiety is affecting your daily life, relationships, sleep, or wellbeing, please seek appropriate medical or therapeutic support.

Kathy Ellis Counselling – Our Therapeutic Agreement

These notes are here to support our work together and to help you feel informed, safe, and prepared.

My Professional Practice

I am a member of the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) and follow its Code of Ethical Practice for Counselling Professions.

Confidentiality

Everything you share with me is treated with care and confidentiality. There are a few situations where I may need to break confidentiality to keep you or others safe. These include:

• Serious risk of harm to yourself or someone else
• Safeguarding concerns
• Terrorist activity
• Legal obligations
• Illegal activity or risks to others

If any of these arise, I may need to share relevant information with appropriate services and/or my supervisor. I will always aim to talk with you about this wherever possible.

To support confidentiality, please turn your mobile phone off during sessions. Sessions cannot be recorded.

Data Protection

I am registered with the Information Commissioner’s Office and hold a Privacy Statement that explains how your information is stored and protected.

Cancellations

Life happens, and sometimes appointments need to change. The full session fee applies if you cancel within 24 hours, do not attend, or arrive more than 20 minutes late.

If cancellations become frequent (two in a row), we will gently explore together whether counselling feels right for you at this time.

Third‑Party Payments

If someone else pays for your sessions, any changes or disputes around payment will need to be resolved between you and the payer.

Evidence and Documentation

I cannot provide notes, testify, or confirm attendance for court matters, medical reports, PIP, insurance claims, or workplace processes – even if you ask me to.

Supervision

I attend regular supervision to keep my practice safe, ethical, and reflective. This means I may discuss aspects of our work, but your identity remains protected.

Risks and Safety

Your wellbeing is central to our work. There are times when counselling alone may not be enough to keep you safe.

I cannot offer a session if you arrive under the influence of drugs or alcohol; the session will not go ahead, and the cancellation fee will apply.

If you are using drugs or alcohol, have a severe eating disorder, a life‑threatening medical condition, or are planning to end your life, I will need other professional services involved before we continue. Counselling works best alongside the right support network.

The Therapeutic Space

My practice is non‑smoking and pet‑free, though assistance dogs are warmly welcomed.

Parking is available on the street or in nearby car parks. As there is no waiting room, please arrive at your appointment time.

The entrance has a low step and threshold. Please use your own toilet before attending.

If you feel unwell, please cancel as soon as you can.

Our Agreement

Please take your time to read through this information. If anything feels unclear or you’d like to talk it through, you’re welcome to ask. These boundaries are here to help us work together safely, respectfully, and in a way that supports your therapeutic process.

 

Imposter syndrome implies a personal defect or psychological flaw. But what people describe is not a syndrome at all.  It is a phenomenological experience — a shift in one’s felt legitimacy that arises in response to the environment. Imposter feelings emerge not from inadequacy, but from navigating cultures, hierarchies, and relationships that make belonging feel precarious. “Imposter phenomenology” is therefore a more accurate term: one that honours the lived experience without pathologising it.

“Imposter syndrome” has become a familiar way to explain moments when confidence falters and self-doubt takes over. Yet the term is misleading. Syndrome suggests pathology — an internal flaw located within the individual, something to fix or overcome. What my clients describe, however seems far more fluid, relational, and context-dependent. I prefer to call it imposter phenomenology: a lived experience that emerges between a person and the world we inhabit.  It is outside of the person rather than an internal defect.

Imposter feelings can arise even in people with long records of competence. A person may have performed well, felt confident, and trusted their abilities — until the relational field shifts. Seen phenomenologically, these feelings are less about personal inadequacy and more about the conditions that shape one’s sense of legitimacy.

Imposter feelings are not confined to workplaces, colleges, or other settings where ability and achievement are openly measured. They can also surface in relationships, social groups, families, and communities — places where our confidence, self-esteem, and sense of belonging may feel unsettled or out of step.

In any context, the experience is often less about whether we are capable and more about how safe, seen, accepted, or legitimate we feel within the relational environment around us.

This shifts the question from “What is wrong with me?” to “What is happening around me that makes my sense of self feel unstable?”

Competitive workplaces, patriarchal structures, gendered expectations, and culturally narrow environments can all make belonging feel fragile. A person entering a space not historically designed for them may feel subtly questioned or out of step, even when their skills are equal or stronger. Competition, dominance, rank, and exclusion occur in other realms of our lives.  In all these cases, the environment helps produce the imposter experience. The person is not “being an imposter;” they are responding to conditions that make their presence feel precarious and threatened.

Understanding imposter feelings as phenomenology rather than syndrome points the story towards a meaning. It recognises identity as relational — shaped by culture, history, and the gaze of others.  It invites a gentler question: What is this experience revealing about the world I inhabit, and the norms or expectations around me, including those that I have become used to?  It is to be curious about what is going on around me, as well as curious about my own history, identity and values.

Reframing to imposter phenomenology does not minimise the distress of imposter feelings. Doubt is heavy and can lead to mistrust in self and capability.  Doubt arises not from personal failure, but from environments where belonging is unevenly distributed or conditional. In this light, imposter feelings become less a sign of deficiency and more a signal to examine the relational and cultural forces shaping the self or those that have shaped the self.

Working together, we can explore why this has become difficult now, where your world feels out of alignment, and what small, meaningful steps might help you move differently.  We can explore why this has become difficult now, where your world feels out of alignment, and what small, meaningful steps might help you move differently.

If you would like to explore your imposter feelings in a clear, time-framed therapeutic space, you are welcome to reach out and begin that conversation with me.

 

Many people seek therapy when life feels heavy, confusing, or out of balance. You may have tried other approaches yet still felt unseen or unchanged. My humanistic counselling, grounded in existential and phenomenological philosophy, offers a space where your lived experience is met with depth, care, and genuine presence.

My practice is grounded in advanced therapeutic training, personal development, and ongoing academic research, helping us explore your experience with nuance, curiosity, and respect.

What makes this different?

It starts with your whole self.

I see you not as a problem or diagnosis, but as a whole person with strengths, hopes, fears, and capacity to grow. You are more than what has happened to you.

It honours your experience.

Phenomenological therapy explores life from your perspective, focusing on the emotions, sensations, memories, and meanings that shape your inner world.

It makes space for big questions.

Existential therapy recognises that struggles often arise from identity, freedom, responsibility, uncertainty, relationships, ageing, loss, and meaning. It sees suffering not only as a “problem to fix,” but as part of being human and pointing to what matters.

My academic work explores these themes, grounding me in understanding of what you may be moving through.

Existential thinking draws on the philosophy of what it means to be human: how we inhabit the world, experience life through the body, and face uncertainty, anxiety, suffering, freedom, and responsibility.

In therapy, these ideas help us explore self-deception, adaptation, avoidance, and the ways we distance ourselves from who we are. A key question becomes: where have you had to adapt, hide, or become someone other than yourself?

How this helps you

You may feel understood rather than assessed.

This approach meets you at your pace, in your language and emotional landscape. You won’t be rushed or judged. You hear yourself. I hear you.

You may gain clarity about what’s happening inside.

By exploring your experience gently and closely, you begin to understand why certain patterns repeat or why certain feelings feel overwhelming. Insight emerges slowly and naturally.  You notice.  I notice.

You may develop a stronger sense of self.

The work helps you reconnect with your values, boundaries, desires, and agency. You begin to feel more grounded and more able to make choices that align with who you are. You start to choose differently.

You will experience really relational support.

This therapy is deeply relational. Change happens through the quality of the therapeutic relationship — a space where you can be met with empathy, honesty, and attuned presence and sometimes challenge.

You may make meaning of your experiences.

Phenomenological exploration helps you understand not just what you feel, but why it matters. You begin to see your life with more coherence, compassion, and possibility.

Who this approach is for

People often choose this therapy when they:

• feel lost, stuck, or disconnected.
• are navigating transitions or identity shifts.
• want deeper understanding rather than quick fixes.
• have tried therapies that felt too structured, directed or impersonal.
• want philosophical insight and discussion that is deep rather than surface level.
• Want to move inwards and not merely forward with change.
• sense that their struggles are tied to relationships, meaning, or self‑worth.
• want a therapeutic relationship that feels real, warm, and human.

What sessions feel like?

Sessions are calm, spacious, and collaborative. You bring whatever feels important — a feeling, a memory, a situation, a question — and we explore it together.

You can expect:

• warmth and genuine presence
• curiosity rather than judgement
• space to slow down and breathe.
• careful listening to what matters beneath the surface.
• careful listening to the embodied self, what the body is telling you how you experience the world.
• support in making sense of your experience.
• a relationship built on trust, respect, and authenticity.

My research informs this process by helping us notice the subtle shifts, themes, and meanings that often shape a person’s inner world. It adds depth without ever taking over the session.

Why it works.

This therapy works because it aligns with how humans actually exist: adapted, defended and at odds with the inherited world.  When you feel seen, safe, and supported, new possibilities open.

If you’re ready for therapy that feels human, grounded, and deeply supportive.

You are welcome to reach out. We can explore what you are carrying, what you’re longing for, and what might help you move forward with more steadiness and meaning.