A little bit about me
 

I didn’t always understand trauma.
 

I grew up in India, and like many people, I have had my share of adversity. I experienced traumatic events, witnessed serious accidents, and lost close friends. At the time, I didn’t necessarily understand these experiences as trauma. Difficult things happened; you dealt with them as best you could, and you carried on.
 

My working life began in sales in India. When I moved to Australia, it seemed natural to continue along the same path.

Moving to a new country, however, meant starting again in more ways than one. I had left behind the culture, people, and way of life that were familiar to me. There was a new culture to understand, different ways of communicating, and a different workplace environment.
 

I started my working life in Australia as a store manager for major retailers.

Those years weren’t easy. I experienced significant workplace pressure, conflict, and bullying. At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate how much those experiences were affecting me. I did what I had always done.
 

I kept going.
 

Some experiences stayed with me in unexpected ways. There was a particular deodorant I wore during that period that, even today, I find difficult to wear because the smell can immediately take me back to that time.

Back then, I didn’t understand why.
 

Eventually, I knew something needed to change.
 

Someone suggested that I consider working with people with disability. It was completely outside the world I knew. I had spent my working life in sales, and even my family wondered whether I could do it.
 

I wondered the same thing.
 

But I took the chance.
 

That decision changed the direction of my life.
 

What began as a move away from one career became almost 18 years of working alongside people with disabilities, including people with autism, intellectual disability, complex support needs, and behaviours of concern.

Over those years, the work changed the way I understood people.
 

I learnt patience and empathy. I learnt to listen differently, particularly when someone couldn’t easily communicate what they were experiencing. I saw how trauma and adversity could affect people, and how distress could sometimes be expressed through behaviour.
 

I gradually learnt to look beyond “What is wrong with this person?” and instead ask, “What might have happened to this person?”
 

Most importantly, I learnt to see the person before the behaviour.
 

The turning point
 

Then those lessons became personal.
 

I became a father of three, and one of my children has ADHD.
 

Suddenly, I wasn’t the professional supporting somebody else. I was the father trying to understand and support my own child.
 

There were struggles at school, in meetings, and on phone calls, as well as difficulties with organisation, impulsivity, and emotional outbursts. At times, family life could feel like walking on eggshells. There were also times when it seemed that people saw the behaviour without really understanding the young person behind it.
 

As a parent, I experienced the worry, frustration, and uncertainty that come with trying to help someone you love.
 

That was my turning point.
 

I began thinking about other people going through their own struggles—parents trying to support their children, adolescents who felt misunderstood, and individuals experiencing trauma, adversity, and other difficult periods in their lives.

I also began looking at my own career differently.
 

After almost two decades working directly with people with complex needs, I had learnt that understanding a condition or behaviour was only part of the picture.
 

There was also the person—their history, experiences, relationships, environment, and everything that had happened in their life before that moment.
 

My experience with my son brought that understanding home.
 

I began wondering whether the patience, empathy, and understanding I had developed through my work, together with my own life experiences, could be used in another way.
 

Could I use what I had learnt to help others through difficult periods in their lives?
 

That question eventually led me to counselling.
 

Where I am today
 

Today, I’m a qualified counsellor, an Australian Counselling Association Level 2 Registered Counsellor, and the founder of Lyra Counselling.
 

My counselling approach is person-centred, trauma-informed and strengths-based. I believe there is no one-size-fits-all approach to counselling, and I aim to provide a safe, respectful and non-judgemental space where people can explore their experiences at their own pace.
 

At Lyra Counselling, I support adults, adolescents and families experiencing concerns such as anxiety, stress, grief and loss, relationship difficulties, emotional overwhelm, life transitions, neurodivergence, workplace difficulties and the lasting effects of difficult or traumatic experiences.
 

Looking back, I can see how experiences that once seemed unrelated—adversity, loss, moving countries, workplace difficulties, almost 18 years supporting people with disability, and the challenges within my own family—eventually brought me here.
 

I don’t believe having lived through difficult experiences means I know exactly what someone else is going through. Every person’s story is different.
 

What I have learnt is that sometimes we spend so much time coping and carrying on that we don’t stop to understand what those experiences have done to us.
 

For me, that understanding came much later.
 

And sometimes, understanding is where change begins.
 

If something in my story connects with yours, perhaps we can start there.
 

You don’t have to have everything figured out to take the first step.

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Clarity. Care. Connection.

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