sanjoni
That's me — Sanjoni.
I didn't set out to build a private practice. I set out to find a way of working that felt honest to me, and to the people I sit with.That path involved stepping away from structured employment, choosing supervision carefully, and slowly unlearning some of what I'd been trained to perform. What grew in its place is a practice that is, above everything else, relational. I don't mean that as a buzzword.
I mean that I am present in the room, not just my training. The relationship between us is not the backdrop to the work. It is the work.
I work with adolescents, adults, women, men, and children. What draws me to each of them is less about diagnosis and more about the particular way a person has learned to survive. I'm interested in what childhood left behind, what the body still carries, and what keeps showing up in relationships no matter how much someone tries to outthink it. I'm curious about building spaces that are warm, boundaried, and quietly radical, especially for women and children. And working with men has taught me how often they, too, are struggling to name things they were never given language for.
The room I imagine and increasingly, the room I inhabit has a few too many books, the kind of silence that doesn't rush to fill itself, and very possibly, one of my dogs.
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Milo, Shadow, Basanti or Hope may be present in the session. They are not incidental. Animals bring something into a room that words sometimes can't permit to soften, to be less defended, to just exist for a moment. They are, in the truest sense, part of the practice.
This is where I find myself today committed to a practice that's alive, reflective, and imperfectly honest.
Thanks for arriving here and reading.
In the therapy room: Practice
I offer virtual and in-person sessions for adolescents and adults. Our first meeting is a space of mutual introduction where we begin to sense how we might work together. I'll take some notes, share a few reflections, and walk you through the policies that hold the practice.
Each session is 50 minutes long, something I arrived at after trying different formats and tuning in to what sustains my attention, presence, and care.
I'm deeply curious about the emotional tones my clients evoke in me and often, that connection starts forming well before we meet in the room. Much of my interest lies in how childhood experiences continue to speak through us, the ways you thought about your parents, what you tried to show them, and what still lingers unspoken. Often, our work turns gently toward the body, learning how to be with it, and how to use it as an anchor when words feel far.
Therapy, for me, is not a fixed method. It's a shared inquiry into becoming more alive to ourselves.
On the paper: Inquiry & Writings
I write to understand, not just the world, but also myself. I'm drawn to books that soothe without simplifying, especially the works of Irvin Yalom, Adam Phillips, and Donald Winnicott. Their reflections help me hold complexity with softness.
My writing explores support, rupture, and the slow reworking of beliefs, personal and systemic, that shape how we understand healing. My academic research orbits emotional dysregulation and the intricacies of personality structures. That work continues to evolve alongside the relationships I hold in the therapy room, where theory meets breath, pause, and story.
Across the table: Collaborate
I love to collaborate and co-create. I've facilitated support groups for early-career therapists, attended peer supervision circles, and worked with artists, educators, and mental health professionals to design workshops across schools, universities, and organisations (the intersection of mental health, learning, and creativity).
I'm curious, open, and always learning. If you have something in mind, feel free to reach out.