I don't think I arrived at this work in a single moment.

Looking back, it feels more like a thread that has quietly run through my life for as long as I can remember.

Today, I support people and families through serious illness, caregiving, the end of life and grief. But long before I knew there was a name for this work, I was already being shaped by it.

I started working in a residential care home when I was thirteen and stayed there throughout school and college.

Many of the residents became like family to me.

I listened to stories about childhoods, marriages, adventures, heartbreaks and ordinary lives that turned out to be anything but ordinary. One woman kept a photograph of me beside her chair, and her face would light up whenever I walked into the room.

Those years quietly taught me lessons that have stayed with me ever since.

People never stop needing connection.

They never stop needing dignity.

They never stop needing somebody who is genuinely interested in who they are.

Later, I became a teacher before training as a birth and postnatal doula and massage therapist after the birth of my daughter.

Although the work looked different, the thread was always the same.

I was drawn to the moments in life that ask the most of us. The times when everything feels uncertain, when families are finding their way through change, and when simply having someone calm beside you can make all the difference.

As I moved into my forties, more conversations with friends seemed to centre around illness, caregiving and loss. I found myself wanting to understand more—not only to support the people I loved, but to become someone who could confidently walk alongside others facing these experiences too.

Then, a few years ago, I was asked to support someone at the end of their life.

Something shifted.

Not because the work felt unfamiliar.

Because it felt like a full circle moment.

That experience led me to retrain as an end-of-life doula and guide, volunteer within hospice settings and work in palliative care.

Looking back, it feels as though I had been following the same thread all along.

Not birth.

Not death.

Presence

Over the years, I've learned that people rarely need someone to fix everything.

They need someone who will listen without judgement, who isn't frightened of difficult conversations, and who can stay alongside uncertainty without trying to rush it away.

I've learned that practical guidance matters. Good information matters. Feeling heard matters.

But perhaps most of all, I've learned that being truly present is a form of care in itself.

That understanding sits at the heart of everything I do.

Whether you're living with serious illness yourself, supporting someone you love, or finding your way through grief, my hope is that you feel a little less alone here.

Rebecca x

I offer Online support throughout the UK. In-person support in Frome, Somerset and the surrounding area.