I've always been fascinated by how we think and why we do what we do, enough to get a degree and a master's in psychology and qualify as a psychotherapist. But university isn't cheap, so I spent five of those postgraduate years working in digital marketing to pay my way. It was useful, but it wasn't what I loved, and I lived with that incongruence every day. Then my mum was diagnosed with leukaemia, and everything came into focus. Life could change in a moment, and I was sitting in an office 9 to 5, counting down to my 25 days of holiday, and quite frankly miserable. So in the midst of my existential crisis, I quit.

Not long after, I went to brunch with some therapist friends who'd qualified ahead of me while I'd taken time out to process mums' illness. One by one, they talked about the overwhelm, confusion and loneliness of the business side of private practice. Marketing they hadn't been trained for, and didn't know how to do without it feeling wrong. Sitting there, it dawned on me: I understood both worlds. Therapists needed help with this, and I was in a good position to give it.