About Thought Climber

Grief is a tangle of emotions — raw, disorienting, and often wordless. In the wake of losing my mum to suicide, I found myself adrift in a sea of questions, sadness, and silence. It was writing that helped me find a foothold. With a pen in hand, I could slow down the whirlwind of thoughts. I could begin, gently, to untangle the sorrow, the rage, the guilt, and the memories. On paper, I found a space where everything was allowed to exist — nothing too messy or too much.

That is how Thought Climber CIC began: as a quiet, private act of survival. A journal became my lifeline — not to "fix" anything, but to witness it. To map the interior landscape of my grief. Over time, I realised that writing wasn’t just helping me express pain — it was helping me move through it. Each entry was a step upward, a small ascent toward clarity. I was, in my own way, climbing — thought by thought, word by word — toward something more hopeful, more whole.

I chose the name Thought Climber because I believe we all have the capacity to uplift ourselves. When we work through what’s weighing us down — especially in moments of loss — we create the possibility for growth. Not despite the pain, but through it.

In parallel, I found healing through movement. Long-distance swimming reconnected me with a deeper sense of self — something primal, enduring, and free. Immersed in open water, hour after hour, I discovered a rhythm that matched the emotional endurance grief demanded. Stroke by stroke, I was reclaiming my body, my spirit, and my purpose.

It’s been ten years since my mum died. Ten years of rebuilding, of reckoning, of remembering. Thought Climber is my way of sharing what I’ve learned — not as a roadmap, but as a possibility. Your path may look different, and it should. But if this space, these journals, or my story can help someone feel less alone in their grief, or more empowered to climb their own mountain — then it’s doing what I hoped it would.