Our Psychologist

I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about, reading about, and trying to understand people, and the brains that allow us to think, feel and behave in the ways that we do. I’ve pored over the limbic system (a series of brain structures that are thought to be heavily involved in our experiencing emotions and forming memories; limbic means border in Latin), and I’ve explored the role of particular regions of cortex in aspects of our functioning. Cortex is the grey folded area that encases the deeper structures of the brain, and it’s probably what comes to mind when you think of a brain. The word cortex derives from the Latin for bark, or outer layer). Most of our cortex is referred to as neocortex (neo comes from the Greek neos, meaning new). There are different types of cortex, and cortex is also described in different regions (also called lobes). These lobes are involved in different processes. For example, there’s a region of cortex called the insula (insula means island in Latin) that’s thought to be involved in our perception of time. Another area of cortex called the hippocampus is central in our ability to form new memories. Hippocampus is Greek (hippókampos) for seahorse, because… you guessed it… it looks like a seahorse when observed from a certain angle. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s also some of the oldest cortex in your brain, and has the least number of layers to it. Because of this, it’s called archicortex. ‘Archi’ comes from the Greek for beginning or first). I’ve labelled the roots of these words to show you that learning neuroanatomy is kind of like going on a tour of Latin and Greek. While the words sound fancy if you don’t know Latin or Greek, the translations are usually quite literal.

I’ve also long been interested in our ability to engage with music. In feeding this interest, I’ve read many of Oliver Sacks’ books. Why do I mention Oliver? Well, Oliver was an English neurologist who became fascinated with our ability to perceive, compose and respond emotionally to music. He was also a superb writer who authored many interesting case studies of his patients. It so happens that the inspiration for Oliver’s initial interest in case studies was Alexander Luria. Alexander was a Russian neuropsychologist, and a central figure in the early development of neuropsychology as a discipline. Like Oliver, Alexander wrote many fascinating accounts of his patients, and the two of them sparked up an enduring correspondence. So, from initially learning about Alexander’s work (including slogging my way through his book ‘The Working Brain’), to discovering Oliver’s case studies and subsequently delving into the music neuroscience literature, the worlds of neuropsychology and music became intertwined, as they have been since. I looked at music’s ability to trigger memories as part of my PhD, finished in March 2026. I also have a bachelor’s degree in composition, have played piano from an early age, and continue to write my own music.

Anyway, enough about me. I’m here to understand what’s happening for you.

If I could pick one idea that guides my desire to understand and help you, it would be:

Every one of us is unique, and deserving of respect, regardless of gender, sexuality, race, political inclination, religiosity, upbringing, mistakes we’ve made and money we have or haven’t earned, and pretty much every other point of difference that you could identify.

My approach to practice in general is informed by the belief that therapy and neuropsychology go hand-in-hand. That is, if you receive therapy, my neuropsychology training comes in handy. If you undergo a neuropsychological assessment, my therapy work further informs my understanding of your lived experience and how you navigate the world.

With all this as context, I’m passionate about helping people work through the various issues that can crop up throughout life, and working with people to understand their thoughts, feelings and behaviour, so that they can reach their potential.

Life isn’t always fun, or easy, but life is a journey worth making. Always. There might be cracks in the path along the way, and you might not always know where you’re going, but as the singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen said, ‘There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in’.