About
Lucinda

I came into the world deeply drawn to all things metaphysical and spiritual. As a  child I’d spend hours in the library learning all I could about lucid dreaming, divination, astrology and hypnosis, among other esoteric subjects. Altered states of consciousness, in particular, fascinated me from a very young age.

I read about meditation in a magazine and, much to my family’s amusement, as a teenager would sit cross-legged facing my bedroom wall chanting nam-myoho-renge-kyo as I focused on manifesting being kissed by my latest crush.

I seemed to feel everything more intensely than other people, and to think and care about things that didn’t cross most of their minds. At the time I just thought everyone else was better at dealing with their thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t until much later that I realised that my thoughts and feelings were way more complex and intense than theirs, and that consequently I was having a very different experience of life from them.

The values I was brought up with led me to focus on academic success and, without ever properly tuning into my own heart’s desires, I found myself studying law at Oxford University.

My time at Oxford reinforced my fears that everyone else was better at adulting than I was.  Although I knew I was bright, I was sure that my idiosyncrasies detracted from my intelligence. I’d have been incredulous if you’d told eighteen-year-old me what I later discovered – that my unusual mind patterns are actually an intrinsic part of my creative, neurodiverse, highly intelligent brain.

Although I felt called to use my law degree to help people, an internship at a family law practice convinced me I was too sensitive to follow that path. I found myself instead in the commercial department of a huge City of London law firm. Not a healthy environment for a sensitive, tree-hugging 20-something girl with imposter syndrome, it turned out.

I survived by spending my weekends in a new age bookshop, meditating on weekday mornings and numbing myself in wine bars by night. Although I was desperately unhappy, for several years I continued to listen to the people who told me I’d be crazy to give up the lucrative legal career I’d worked so hard to achieve.

I tried all kinds of law and for a while had fun working as a music lawyer (for the Spice Girls, Queen and the Rolling Stones among others!) before I finally accepted that law wasn’t for me.

The arrival of my first child was a welcome excuse to escape the corporate world, and the beautiful home water birth of my second child – painless thanks to self-hypnosis – brought me back to my childhood passion for altered states of consciousness.

I trained in neuro-linguistic programming, coaching, and cognitive hypnotherapy and – in contrast with my experience in family law – discovered that as a therapist I was naturally able to hold space and help clients experiencing intense challenging emotions, and to help them release all kinds of trauma.

The next curve ball life threw at me was when it became apparent that school was not a good match for my intense, sensitive children. After a lot of research, for the first time in my life I followed my inner guidance and took my kids out of school, balancing part-time hypnotherapy work alongside unschooling them

My intention in home-educating my kids was to give them the space and freedom to discover and learn what they loved to do. However, even outside the confines of conventional school, my youngest child still seemed to struggle with life in a way that sent me looking for answers about what was going on with him and how I could support him.

By the time he was nine years old, we’d seen multiple professionals and received a diagnosis of Sensory Processing Disorder with hints at other labels, but none seemed to offer a complete picture of what was going on.

Then one day I came across a pamphlet whose cover asked, “Is your child intense? Sensitive? Easily-overwhelmed? Do they react out of proportion?” I eagerly signed up for the workshop, where I learned about overexcitabilities (also known as intensities) and the work of twentieth century psychologist Kazimierz Dabrowski.

Listening to the facilitator describe overexcitability was the most validating experience I’d ever had. I sat with tears in my eyes as I recognised not just my youngest son but also my other child, myself, and many family members.

The model I discovered at that workshop changed my world so much that I couldn’t believe it wasn’t more widely discussed. I began writing a blog to share what I was learning, and to my surprise discovered, through the connections I made, that intensity and high intelligence very often go hand-in-hand.

The more I learned about my family’s neurodivergence, the more I realised that the suburban town we were living in was a terrible match for our sensitive, intense temperaments. In 2017 I followed my soul’s calling and moved to Brighton, a vibrant city nestled between beautiful hills and sparkling sea, and filled with kindred spirits.

Brighton has been the perfect place to reconnect with what brought me to life as a child. Here I’ve found my tribe and the confidence to speak my truth – that we are all nature’s children, deeply connected to the Earth and capable of tuning into wisdom from deep within our unconscious minds, as well as the non-physical realms that surround us. I no longer feel shame about my spirituality, but instead let it guide me and others towards living an ever more authentic way of life.

Along the way I’ve realised I’m gifted, autistic and have ADHD, labels I’ve found useful for connecting with my neurodivergent tribe, though I still prefer Dabrowski’s intensities model as a way of making sense of the challenges and strengths neurodivergence brings.