Victoria & You

My name is Victoria. I'm a counsellor based in Southend-on-Sea, and I spend most of my working life sitting alongside young people while they make sense of things. I came to this work slowly, and I take it seriously.

I hold a Level 2 qualification in counselling, and I'm always learning — but honestly, the qualification matters less than what happens in the room. What I care about is that the people I work with feel listened to properly, without being rushed or tidied up.

[Victoria is currently working toward / is a member of] [BACP / NCPS — please confirm before site goes live], and I work within their ethical framework.

I see people in person in Southend, and online for anyone who finds that easier.

Sessions are just conversations. There's no right thing to say, and nothing you can get wrong. You don't need to come with a plan, or know what the matter is, or be able to put any of it into neat sentences.

I'm not going to judge you. I'm not going to be shocked. People bring all sorts of things into the room — anger, embarrassment, blank silence, jokes that aren't really jokes — and all of it is fine.

If you've never done this before, that's completely normal. Most people haven't.

I work with young people roughly between the ages of twelve and twenty-five. If you're reading this on your own, wondering whether any of it applies to you — it probably does.

A lot of the people I sit with would say they feel low, or flat, or numb. Some would say they're depressed; others would say they don't really know what's wrong, just that something is. Some feel lost, like everyone else got given a map and they didn't. Some are exhausted in a way that sleep doesn't fix.

You don't need to have a reason that sounds serious enough. Whatever it is, it counts.

[Placeholder — include if accurate:] I'm comfortable working with neurodivergent young people, and you're welcome here whether or not you have a diagnosis, and whether or not you'd use that word about yourself.

If things ever feel too much right now, you don't have to wait — Samaritans (116 123) and Crisis Text Line (text SHOUT to 85258) are available any time, for free.

In person, I work from a quiet room in Southend-on-Sea. Some people find it helpful to have somewhere they go to do this — a physical place that isn't their bedroom, isn't school, isn't home. If that sounds useful, that's the option.

Online doesn't have to mean video. If you want to start with telephone calls, or messaging back and forth, those are real options too. Some people find it easier to talk without being seen, or to write things down rather than say them out loud. The work is the same however we do it.

We can also move between formats if you'd like to — start with messages and shift to video later, or the other way round. Whatever feels most natural to you.

You send me a short message — it doesn't need to be long, and you don't need to explain anything yet. I'll write back within a day or two.

If it feels right, we set up a free, short call so you can hear my voice and ask anything you want. There's no commitment at that stage; it's just a chance to see whether you'd like to go further.

If you'd like to start, we find a time that works and begin. You can stop whenever you want to.

I know that cost can quietly stop people from getting help they'd otherwise reach for, and I don't want that to happen here.

Sessions are [£XX per session — Victoria, please replace], and they last fifty minutes. I keep a small number of reduced-fee spaces for people who genuinely couldn't see me otherwise — if that's you, please just say so when you write. It won't change anything between us.

What you bring into a session is yours. I don't talk about it with your family, your school, your friends, or anyone else. That privacy is part of what makes therapy work — you should feel free to say things out loud that you've never said anywhere.

There's one thing I want to be honest with you about, though, because I think you should hear it from me rather than read it in small print. If I become genuinely worried that you, or someone else, is at serious risk of harm, I have a responsibility to do something about it. That might mean speaking to someone who can help keep you safe.

This doesn't come up often. And when it does, I'd always try to work through it with you — not around you. The aim is always to handle it together, where we can.