I’m Leaving

I promised myself I’d get at least one Lord of the Rings quote into a blog this year, and this feels like the moment:

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door.
You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet,
there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

This feels like one of those moments.

Some of you already know this. Some of you don’t. And many of you have been part of this journey in ways you may not even realise.

Next week, Tania and I, along with our two beautiful children, are moving to New Zealand.

And at this moment of transition, I wanted to pause and reflect. 

Endings and beginnings deserve that.

Gratitude 

If I slow myself down and really notice what’s here, the strongest feeling is gratitude.

Gratitude for family - for their love, patience, and steadiness, especially in a season that asks a lot. For parents, siblings, and extended family who make this transition feel both harder and possible at the same time. They say the price of love is loss, and that truth feels very close right now.

Gratitude for friends - the people I think of as my tribe. Those who’ve been my community through thick and thin. The ones who’ve known me not just in my best moments, but in the hardest ones too, and who’ve walked this wonderful journey of life together.

Gratitude for colleagues and collaborators - those I’ve worked alongside, learned from, and been stretched by. Many of you have shaped how I think, how I practise, and how I show up in the work more than you’ll ever know. That includes the new ‘professional friends’ who’ve only come into my life in recent months, and already feel like part of the fabric.

And gratitude for clients - past and present - every single one who has trusted me enough to let me into their inner world. To be invited into someone’s life at moments of vulnerability, hardship, and uncertainty, is an honour I never take lightly. Each person I’ve worked with has mattered to me, deeply. This work is not something I do at a distance; it shapes me, humbles me, and continually teaches me about the depth of human strength and courage. I am profoundly grateful for the trust placed in me, and for the privilege of walking alongside people at moments that truly matter.

I’m also aware that this isn’t the first time I’ve left somewhere that mattered.

Years ago, when I left Edinburgh to move to Essex to complete my doctorate, I underestimated how deeply I would feel that loss. I mourned Edinburgh, not just the city, but the life we’d built there, the people, the rhythms, the version of myself that belonged to that chapter.

It took time. More time than I expected. I think it was a good three years before something in me properly settled again.

At the time, I worried that meant I’d made the wrong choice. Looking back now, I see it differently. It wasn’t regret, it was attachment. It was love for a place and a life that had shaped me, and grief at having to loosen my hold on it.

What that experience taught me - and what I’m carrying into this move - is that grief over place doesn’t mean you’re lost. It means you’ve lived somewhere fully. And it also taught me that new belonging doesn’t arrive all at once. It grows slowly, over time, alongside the memories you keep.

I didn’t stop loving Edinburgh when Essex became home. I didn’t lose who I was there. That chapter came with me.

And that gives me faith now - not that this next chapter will be easy, but that it will be lived, in time, with the same depth.

This move to New Zealand carries that same mix of emotions - sadness at what we’re leaving, and hope for what we’re moving toward. It’s a choice rooted in family, in health, in time outdoors, and in a desire for a life that feels sustainable over the long term.

I’m aware, too, that leaving doesn’t happen in a single moment. It unfolds slowly. In conversations. In goodbyes. In ordinary days that suddenly feel numbered.

So much of what we struggle with during transitions isn’t the change itself, but the fear that we won’t cope with what it brings.

I’ve learned that coping doesn’t mean staying comfortable. It means staying connected - to yourself, to the people who matter, and to the values you’re choosing to live by.

And for now, that feels like enough to carry forward.

Leaving Safe Harbour (Again)

There’s an image I’ve returned to at other points of change in my life, and it’s one that feels close again now.

When I first stepped away from salaried work and into private practice, I found myself thinking about leaving harbour. 

At the time, I knew there would be uncertainty ahead. Financial pressure. Professional risk. A sense of being exposed to the elements in a way I hadn’t been before. But I also knew that some destinations can’t be reached while you’re still tied to the dock, however safe it feels there.

This move to New Zealand carries a similar quality.

Trusting yourself, I’ve learned, doesn’t mean you feel fearless at the point of departure. It means you’re willing to keep your hand on the helm even when the water isn’t calm, and to trust that what you’ve built inside yourself will carry you forward.

Going But Not Gone

One thing I want to say clearly, is this:

I’m not disappearing.

My work continues.
This weekly blog will continue.
I’ll continue working with UK-based clients via Zoom, just as I do now.

Distance changes some things, but it doesn’t undo connection. The relationships, conversations, and shared work that matter don’t stop at borders, and this move isn’t a step away from the people and communities I care about.

I’ll also be returning to the UK twice in 2026 for in-person work, and I’m already beginning to shape those trips. At the moment, I’m planning to be back in:

• March 2026

• October 2026

If you’re thinking about workshops, training, or events during those windows, please do let me know. I’m currently mapping the March trip and would be very happy to book people in as plans take shape..

If it helps, I’ve also brought everything together on my new website - the different ways I work, the services I offer, and how to get in touch.

If you’re curious, or wondering what might fit for you now or in the future, you can take a look and see what resonates. Tour Here

An Invitation

If this season of my life offers you even a small permission - to listen more closely to a pull you’ve been feeling, to take your own timing seriously, or to trust a next step that doesn’t yet have all the answers - then I’m glad to share that permission with you here.

Do keep in touch. I’ll still be writing, listening, and working - just from further along the road.

And wherever you’re reading this from, I wish you a gentle end to the year - a Happy Chanukah, a Merry Christmas, and a good start to the New Year when it arrives.

Warmly,

Matt