Recognising mental health issues and then finding a counsellor sometimes isn’t an easy process. With this in mind, my website is designed to provide an understandable overview of the world of psychotherapy and counselling to help you take the first step towards a life of positive mental health. Thank You! Thank you for requesting copies of my Dream Guides. An email has now been sent to you with download links to your Dream Guides

My approach to supervision is genuinely integrative and very much collegiate. I don’t see supervision as a place where one person has all the answers, and the other comes to be told what to do. I see it as a developing relationship; we think together, stay curious and try to understand not only what is happening for the client, but what is happening in the therapeutic relationship and in the therapist too. Supervision Supervision My approach to supervision is genuinely integrative and very much collegiate. I don’t see supervision as a place where one person has all the answers, and the other comes to be told what to do. I see it as a developing relationship; we think together, stay curious, and try to understand not only what is happening for the client, but also what is happening in the therapeutic relationship and in the therapist, too. I have a particular penchant for Gestalt, Jung, alchemy, the chakras and Transactional Analysis, and I draw on all of them where they are useful. I’m not interested in squeezing a client into a particular theory. I’m much more interested in finding the approach that helps us understand this client, at this particular moment. Sometimes Gestalt brings something alive in the room. Sometimes a Jungian or alchemical perspective opens up a completely different way of seeing the work. At other times, Transactional Analysis offers exactly the clear and practical language that is needed. I also want to know what my supervisees want to learn. Where do you feel confident, and where do you feel a bit at sea? What would you like to understand better? What would help you develop your practice? What sort of therapist do you want to become? Supervision, for me, is not simply about ensuring the work is done properly. It is also about helping therapists develop their confidence, their curiosity and, importantly, their own way of working. A great deal of psychotherapy is about learning to listen differently. In supervision, I am interested not only in what the client is saying, but in what is not being said. The pauses. The omissions. The sudden changes of subject. The contradictions. The bodily responses. The images and metaphors that seem to appear almost in passing. Sometimes what is missing from the story tells us as much as what is there. The Transpersonal is always somewhere in the background of my work. By that, I don’t mean floating off into the spiritual and forgetting about the realities of the consulting room. Quite the opposite. I’m interested in how the soul, and its journey, show themselves through ordinary life - through relationships, dreams, illness, conflict, loss, longing, the things that repeatedly trip us up, and sometimes the things that seem to arrive out of nowhere. For me, good supervision holds both. It attends to the practical realities of being a thoughtful, ethical and effective therapist, while also keeping an ear open for the deeper story that may be unfolding underneath. If you would like to explore how I can support you through supervision, please complete the form below, and I will contact you to discuss your needs. Please describe your supervisory requirements* First name* Last name* Email* Phone I consent to you processing the information I provide (which may include health information) for the purpose of responding to my enquiry * Please subscribe me to future communications and offers. Your personal details will remain confidential and will never be shared with any party outside me therapy practice Submit your Request New Book In her first book, psychotherapist Lynn Somerfield explores the subtle processes through which change begins to take root in our lives. Through reflection and insight, she considers how moments of awareness, courage, and compassion can gradually shape meaningful personal transformation Explore the Book

Recognising mental health issues and then finding a counsellor sometimes isn’t an easy process. With this in mind, my website is designed to provide an understandable overview of the world of psychotherapy and counselling to help you take the first step towards a life of positive mental health. Contact Me Contact Me There are a number of ways to contact me so please choose your preferred method from the options below and I will respond to you at my very earliest opportunity! Email You can email me directly using my email address lynn@lynnsomerfield.com . Alternatively, contact me via one of the contact forms I have provided below. Phone You are welcome to telephone me. My mobile phone number is 07762 738 238 . Location I tend to work at different locations throughout each week. I have a Central London clinic as well as a clinic in Lidlington, Bedfordshire . Contact Forms I have made two Contact Forms available on this page. Please select the one you require from the list below. Ask a Question Book an Initial Consultation Ask a Question Ask me anything, but please keep in mind that my expertise will be best utilised if your questions are related to Psychotherapy and Counselling! Your Question* First name* Last name* Email* Phone I consent to you processing the information I provide (which may include health information) for the purpose of responding to my enquiry * Please subscribe me to future communications and offers. Your personal details will remain confidential and will never be shared with any party outside me therapy practice Submit your Question Ask a Question Book an Initial Consultation The first step in any therapy journey is for us to meet for an initial consultation and get to know each other a little. At this first meeting, I will be asking you questions about the issues you’re struggling with right now and what you’re hoping to address in therapy. If you would like to book an initial consultation with me, please complete the form below. Please describe what you would like help with...* First name* Last name* Email* Phone I consent to you processing the information I provide (which may include health information) for the purpose of responding to my enquiry * Please subscribe me to future communications and offers. Your personal details will remain confidential and will never be shared with any party outside me therapy practice Submit your Request Book an Initial Consulation

Schopenhauer’s Porcupines Schopenhauer tells a lovely little story about a group of porcupines on a freezing winter’s day. They huddle together for warmth, but as they move closer, their quills begin to prick one another. So they move apart. Before long, the cold becomes too much, and they creep back towards each other again, only to be hurt once more. Eventually, they find a distance that works: close enough to share some warmth, but not so close that they injure one another. Schopenhauer used the story as a way of thinking about human relationships. We need closeness, warmth and companionship, but of course we also come with our sensitivities, defences and sharp edges. Too much distance can leave us lonely. Too much closeness can feel painful or overwhelming. A Dream of a Prickly Creature A client once brought me a dream that immediately made me think of this story. She dreamt of a porcupine, or perhaps a hedgehog, in trouble at the side of the road. She tried to pick it up and help it, but the more she tried, the more it struggled, and the more its spines pricked her skin. Eventually, she stopped trying to grasp it and began talking to it very gently. The animal calmed down and looked into her eyes as though it understood her. She was then able to lead it away from the road and into a hedgerow, where she left it happily eating slugs. Symbolism Hedgehogs and porcupines make wonderful symbols of vulnerability and self-protection. They are soft creatures covered in something sharp. Their prickles are not there because they are aggressive; they are there to protect them when they feel threatened. A hedgehog adds another dimension. When frightened, it curls in on itself, hiding its softer body and presenting only its spines to the outside world. We can do something very similar. When we feel frightened or exposed, we may withdraw, become prickly, or make ourselves difficult to reach. What interested me most about this dream was the change in the way she related to the animal. At first, helping meant trying to pick it up and carry it somewhere safer. But the harder she tried, the more it resisted. Its prickles were doing exactly what prickles are there to do: protecting something vulnerable. A Different Way of Approaching the Prickles Only when she stopped trying to hold on to it did something else become possible. She was no longer doing something to the animal. She was in relationship with it. We had already been working in therapy with a frightened, defensive part of her that she was trying very hard to change, control, overcome, or somehow “sort out”. The dream seemed to suggest another way of approaching it: not “What am I going to do about you?” but “Can I get to know you?” The old idea of “as within, so without” came to my mind. What we meet in the outside world so often seems to echo something taking place within us. And there was certainly an echo here. In some of her relationships, she could work very hard to help, rescue, persuade, or reach someone, only to find that the harder she tried, the more they withdrew or became defensive — and the more hurt she became. The dream seemed to be showing her something different. Less carrying, perhaps. More accompanying. This is where her dream departs slightly from Schopenhauer’s porcupines. His animals solve the problem by finding the right distance between them. In her dream, it is not only the distance that changes. It is the manner of approach. The animal does not settle because she gives up on it, but because she stops trying to seize it. The roadside feels important too. The animal is exposed, somewhere it does not really belong, on the edge of a place concerned with movement and getting somewhere. She leads it away from the road and back into the hedgerow, somewhere it can fend for itself. And she does not take it home. I like that part of the dream very much. She does not rescue it by making it dependent upon her. She helps it back to a place where it can manage on its own and leaves it there, happily eating slugs. At the beginning, she seems to imagine that helping means picking the creature up and carrying it. By the end, she has discovered another kind of help: making contact, gaining its trust and allowing it to find its own way. The Prickles Are Not the Creature Frightened and defended parts of us are not always terribly grateful for our efforts to improve them. Sometimes the harder we try, the sharper the prickles become. They may need something gentler. What I particularly like about the dream is that the animal does not have to lose its prickles. Nothing about it needs to be taken away or fixed. What changes is the way it is approached. Perhaps that is the message of the prickles: not go away, but please come closer differently. The prickles are not the creature. They are what the creature has developed to protect itself.

The Secret Language of Symbols: Stars, Space and Earth Dreaming Amongst the Stars I recently dreamt that I was in space. I was surrounded by stars of every size and shape. There were shooting stars too, and the whole experience was surreal and breathtaking. At one point, I was explaining to someone what a supernova was. Then I was back on Earth, trying to describe how extraordinary it had been. I had been able to see the Earth from space and was pointing out the places I had seen on a map. As I did so, I accidentally tore off a piece of the planet. I think it was part of Italy. The dream came after I had attended a gathering where several people asked me about my work as a psychotherapist. I don't mind being asked. It's a source of fascination for many people - what goes on behind that closed door? But I always find these conversations difficult. Not because I do not know what I do, but because I rarely feel able to explain it in a way that does it justice. Trying to Explain the Inexplicable How do you describe psychotherapy at a social gathering? I can say that I listen. I can talk about helping people to understand themselves, work through difficult experiences, recognise old patterns and find different ways of living. All of that is true, but it still feels rather flat. It does not convey the experience of entering another person’s inner world. It says little about the dreams, images, wounds, defences and possibilities that emerge in the consulting room. Nor does it capture those moments when something that has remained hidden for years suddenly comes into view, or when a person begins to see that something which once seemed senseless may have had meaning after all. There can be long periods in therapy when very little seems to be happening. Then something shifts. An old identity begins to loosen. A forgotten feeling returns. A dream opens a door. Someone who has lived for years with shame begins, perhaps for the first time, to look upon herself with compassion. How can that be reduced to an answer shouted over laughter and music? The Symbolism of Stars In the dream, I had not merely read about space or studied a map of it. I had been there. I had stood among the stars and witnessed something vast, strange and beautiful. This felt rather like the experience of working closely with the psyche. Each person has an inner world of their own, with its particular atmosphere, history, mysteries and hidden life. Stars have long been associated with hope, guidance and destiny. As points of light in the darkness, they may suggest finding one’s way when the path ahead is unclear. They can also represent aspiration, the numinous, or the guiding light of the Self. Each star appears separate and yet belongs to something immeasurably larger. In dreams, they may be glimpses of consciousness shining out from the darkness of the unconscious. The stars in my dream were all different sizes and shapes. Perhaps they reflected the extraordinary variety of human beings, or the many forms that consciousness can take. There were shooting stars, and I was explaining to someone what a supernova is. A supernova is the explosion of a star. It is an ending, but not simply an ending. The star breaks apart and releases its material into space, where it may eventually contribute to the formation of something new. There is something in this that resembles the therapeutic process. At times, an old way of being has to break down before another can emerge. While it is happening, the experience may feel catastrophic. We lose our bearings and may no longer know who we are. Yet what feels like destruction may also be the beginning of transformation. In the dream, I understood this and could explain it. But explaining a supernova is not the same as witnessing one. The Map Is Not the World When I returned to Earth, I tried to communicate the wonder of what I had seen. I used a map. A map can point us in the right direction. It can name places, mark boundaries and help us to find our way. But it is not the living Earth. It cannot convey the smell of rain, the warmth of the sun or the feeling of standing on a hillside and looking out across the landscape. Psychological theories may be rather like maps. They can be enormously helpful. They give us a language and help us recognise familiar patterns. Jung, Freud, Gestalt, Transactional Analysis, attachment theory and the many other schools of psychotherapy offer different ways of understanding the terrain. But the theory is not the person. No description of therapy can fully communicate what happens between two people in a room, over time, when one is prepared to bring what is most painful, shameful or precious and the other is willing to stay with them. A map may help us to speak about the journey, but it cannot give us the experience of making it. Tearing Off Italy As I pointed out the places I had seen from space, I accidentally tore off a piece of the planet. This was the part of the dream that stayed with me most. It seemed to say something about the danger of trying too hard to explain. In trying to make the experience manageable, I damaged the very thing I was describing. Perhaps that is what I sometimes fear when talking about my work. The more I try to define it, the more I risk diminishing it. Something living becomes a neat explanation. Something mysterious becomes a method. The vastness of a person’s inner world is reduced to a few sentences. The fact that the piece torn away may have been Italy adds another layer. For me, Italy brings to mind art, beauty, passion, history, food, sensuality and the pleasures of being alive. It also suggests soulfulness and a way of living that is not entirely governed by efficiency or reason. Perhaps I was being reminded not to tear the beauty, imagination and soul out of psychotherapy in my efforts to make it sound sensible. Bringing Something Back I do not think the dream was telling me to stop talking about my work. It may simply have been reminding me that some experiences cannot be adequately explained. Those of us who work as psychotherapists spend much of our lives in territories that are difficult to describe. We sit with our clients’ grief, longing, rage, shame, love, terror and hope. We witness the collapse of old worlds and, sometimes, the slow beginnings of new ones. We try to speak about what we have seen, but words will always fall short. Perhaps the best we can do is offer a glimpse: point towards the stars, show someone the map and describe the light of the supernova. We cannot give them the experience of having been there.

Photo by Anita Jankovic on Unsplash Some symbols appear once in a dream and are never seen again. Others seem to hang around. A client I’ll call Jessica had been in therapy for about twelve months when we noticed that handbags and purses began appearing repeatedly in her dreams. Jessica originally came to therapy after the end of a long-term relationship. The breakup had cost her more than the relationship itself. Much of her social life had revolved around her partner, John, and when they separated, many of those friendships disappeared as well. John had also been coercively controlling. As the therapy progressed, Jessica began to see how much she had adapted herself to him: what she did, who she saw, what she felt able to say, and, in less obvious ways, who she had become. She was slowly regaining her footing. Meanwhile, her dreams seemed to have become rather interested in handbags. What Do We Carry in a Handbag or Purse? Handbags are very personal things. Think about what is in yours. Money, bank cards, keys, a phone, perhaps photographs, makeup, medication, receipts, scraps of paper, and assorted things you have forgotten were even there. A purse is smaller but, in some ways, even more personal. It usually contains our money and the cards that identify us and give us access to it. So when a handbag or purse appears in a dream, I might wonder about identity, independence, privacy, personal resources, and value. Not because a handbag always means these things — dream symbols don't work that way — but because these are some of the associations the object naturally carries. And there is the question of privacy. If someone picked up your handbag and began looking through it without asking, you probably wouldn't like it. It is yours. Someone Looking Inside Jessica's first dream was exactly that. Someone was looking inside her handbag without her permission. Given what had been happening in her life, it was difficult not to be struck by the image. Here was a woman coming out of a relationship in which her boundaries had been repeatedly crossed, dreaming of someone going through something private that was hers. It seemed to say something Jessica herself was only just beginning to articulate: You don't have the right to do that. Then the Handbag Disappeared Later, Jessica began dreaming that she had lost her handbag or purse. She would suddenly realise it was missing and become anxious. This also seemed to align with what was happening outside the dream. Leaving John had meant much more than leaving John. A whole structure had gone with him. Their social life had largely been his. Jessica had spent years orienting herself around the relationship and now had to work out what belonged to her. Who were her friends? What did she actually enjoy? What did she want? And could she trust herself to make those decisions? Leaving a controlling relationship does not necessarily mean we immediately get ourselves back. Sometimes we have to discover who that self is. Stolen Then the dreams changed again. This time the handbag wasn't lost. It was stolen. And Jessica was desperately trying to find it. That felt different. Losing something suggests that we have mislaid it. Having something stolen introduces somebody else into the picture. Something that was ours has been taken. Jessica had spent a long time accommodating herself to another person. Her confidence in her own perceptions had been gradually eroded, and her world had become smaller. So I began to wonder with her whether the dreams might be saying something about what she felt she had lost in the relationship — and perhaps what she now needed to reclaim. Not just, Where is my handbag? But, Where am I? A New Purse Then this week Jessica brought another dream. She had a new purse, and it was full of money. I loved this dream. Not because I think it means she is about to become rich. Money in dreams can be about money, of course, but it can also make us think about worth and resources. We use financial language psychologically all the time. We spend energy. We invest in people. We feel depleted. We say we have nothing left to give. But what caught my attention most was not the money. It was the fact that the purse was new. She hadn't found the old one. Nobody had returned the stolen purse. She had a new one, and that seems important. Jessica's therapy has not really been about restoring her to the person she was before John. That earlier Jessica had her own history, vulnerabilities, and ways of adapting to other people. Some of those adaptations had probably helped her stay in the relationship for as long as she did. Over the past year, something else has been emerging. She is making more of her own decisions. She is developing friendships of her own. She is clearer about what she likes and doesn't like, and what she will and won't put up with. Increasingly, although tentatively, she trusts her own judgement. And then comes the dream of a new purse. Not an empty one either. A purse full of money. When the Dream Changes This is one of the things I love about recurring dreams. If we look at each dream separately, we can get caught up in trying to decide what a particular symbol “means”. But when the same image keeps returning, it can be much more interesting to watch what happens to it. First, someone looks inside Jessica's handbag without permission. Then she loses it. Then it is stolen, and she searches frantically for it. And now she has a new purse, and there is something valuable inside it. Of course, I can't know for certain what these dreams mean. Neither can Jessica. Dreams aren't equations to be solved. But sometimes a sequence of dreams seems to chart a movement occurring elsewhere in the person. Jessica came into therapy having lost a relationship, much of her social world and, to some degree, her confidence in who she was without John. A year later, she dreams of carrying something new, something that belongs to her and something of value. I think that's rather lovely. And I'm particularly glad she didn't find the old purse. A note on confidentiality: As always, identifying details have been changed to protect confidentiality. “Jessica” and “John” are not their real names, and some personal details have been altered or omitted. The dreams themselves are shared with permission.