The power of lived experience-Rea's journey to becoming a Counselling Psychologist

 Hi everyone and welcome to the next instalment of the Pathways to Psychology blog. We meet very many talented and dedicated colleagues for the blog, and today is no exception. Rea Powell, Counselling Psychologist (pending registration) shares a journey full of twists and turns, and ultimately she found a pathway that resonated with her values and skills. Happy reading!

Rea Powell

Counselling Psychologist (pending registration)

https://www.linkedin.com/in/rea-powell-31227a134

I never set out to become a psychologist. It wasn’t a childhood dream or something I’d carefully planned. The truth is, it happened by accident.

When I left school, I didn’t have two GCSEs (general certificate of secondary education) to rub together. University felt like another world entirely. Psychology wasn’t even on my radar. I fell into selling double glazing, windows, doors, conservatories. I wasn’t particularly good at it. Half the time, I’d find myself on the phone talking people through breakups, grief, or family stress, rather than persuading them to upgrade their patio doors.

I trained as a beautician and later in theatrical makeup artistry. Selling windows paid for my studies, and the makeup work eventually led me into prosthetics for film and stage. One opportunity led to another, and I found myself volunteering on a prosthetics ward. It was there that something shifted. I met people adjusting to life after limb loss, veterans with trauma, athletes recovering from devastating injuries. They would share their stories with me, and I found myself fascinated by how they were trying to rebuild a sense of self after such life-altering events. That was the first time I really thought about identity and how it changes in the face of illness or trauma.

I decided to take an Access to Higher Education course in Psychology and Counselling. I wanted to get the qualifications I’d missed out on and see where it might lead. I went on to study counselling at university and, through that, took a job in a cancer hospital in Wales. That job changed everything. Working with people facing the end of life, or going through intense cancer treatment, had a deep impact on me. Their strength, their ability to find meaning in the most difficult of circumstances, and the raw honesty they brought taught me more than any textbook ever could. I found their stories profoundly moving and knew that I wanted to work in this space long-term.

After my time at the cancer hospital, I took a job in a prison while completing my Master’s degree. It was a stark contrast in many ways, moving from an environment of vulnerability and raw emotion to one shaped by containment, surveillance, and hierarchy. But both settings taught me invaluable lessons about human behaviour, systems, and the often invisible forces that shape people’s lives.

In the prison, I began to notice how much organisational culture influences everything, from how staff relate to one another to how service users engage with support. I learnt to observe staff dynamics with a more critical lens, and it became clear that the way staff communicated, regulated their emotions, or expressed power directly, impacted the emotional climate of the men. Unsurprisingly, the prison I worked in was not trauma-informed. There was little understanding of how trauma shaped the behaviour of the men we supported, and even less space for reflection on the impact of repeated exposure to violence, loss, and abandonment.

What I did learn, however, was how to advocate, both for myself and for the people I worked with. I had to find my voice in a setting where speaking up wasn’t always welcomed. Challenging decisions, questioning practices, or pushing for more psychologically-informed ways of working didn’t always make me popular, but it was necessary. Looking back, I realise that I’ve always had a strong moral compass. Even when it cost me in terms of reputation or relationships with colleagues, I’ve consistently chosen to do what I believe is right. That role taught me not only how to navigate difficult systems, but also how to stay grounded in my values.

What you’ll learn from these stories, if there’s a thread running through all the chaos and detours, is that I took every opportunity I could possibly get my hands on. I threw myself into every experience with curiosity and a willingness to learn. None of it was linear, but all of it was valuable when it came to gaining a place on the Doctorate. Each role offered me something, a new skill, a shift in perspective, a chance to better understand people and systems. I didn’t always feel ready or confident, but I showed up anyway. And over time, those moments built something solid.

After completing Master’s, I was accepted onto the Professional Doctorate in Counselling Psychology at the University of South Wales. That first year of training was one of the most intense periods of my life. As Counselling Psychology trainees, we are responsible for sourcing our own placements, many of which are unpaid. I was working full time  as a Low Intensity Psychological Therapy Practitioner while attending a placement during evenings and weekends. At times, I was working up to 70 hours a week, all while keeping on top of the academic demands. It was brutal, but it taught me how to manage a chaotic schedule, how to stay grounded in the work, and how to hold a complex caseload without burning out.

My role as a Low Intensity Psychological Therapy Practitioner in primary care, involved delivering guided self-help and CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy)-based interventions. While this was an invaluable experience and a key part of my professional development, it created a bit of conflict, as I was in my psychodynamic year of training, it meant that during the evenings I was immersed in in-depth work and longer-term relational approaches, while spending the day time delivering brief interventions under a cognitive behavioural model.  That year stretched me, but it also exposed me to the realities of primary care. I think primary care is almost like a rite of passage for many of us in psychology. The high volume of patients, the rapid turnover, the fast-paced nature of the work, it teaches you a lot. You learn to be efficient, to make the most of the limited time you have, and to offer something meaningful even in brief contact.

Fortunately, I was later offered a scholarship by the health board I worked in, which funded my studies and provided me with paid placements. This brought my path more in line with the clinical psychology training model. I rotated through different specialisms, primary care, learning disabilities, long term health conditions and persistent pain, each one expanding my clinical understanding. But I always knew my heart was in physical health. My placement in persistent pain services and long term health conditions really brought everything together for me. I saw the psychological impact of long-term pain, the way it could reshape a person’s identity and relationships, and how easy it was for people to feel dismissed or misunderstood within healthcare settings. This experience reaffirmed my commitment to working in physical health psychology and eventually led to a full-time job in this area.

I’ve learned that having an unconventional route into psychology isn’t a disadvantage. It has given me a real-world grounding that helps me connect with people from all walks of life. My advice for trainees from working-class backgrounds or non-traditional paths is this: don’t underestimate the value of your life experience. You already know how to work hard, how to navigate uncertainty, and how to adapt. Those skills will carry you through the most challenging parts of the training.

For my doctoral research, I wanted to explore some of these themes in more depth. My thesis is an Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis study of working-class women navigating the world of Counselling Psychology training. It explores how class, identity, and belonging intersect, and how these women make sense of their place in settings that still carry a lot of middle-class assumptions. Their stories reflect many of the tensions I’ve faced myself, of feeling both inside and outside of the profession at the same time, of trying to ‘fit in’ while also holding onto where you came from.

Right now, I’ve finished teaching and I’m in the trenches of preparing to sit my viva exam and submit the final version of my dissertation. I’m hoping to viva before the end of the year. It’s intense, but also exciting. Looking back at how far I’ve come, I never imagined I’d be here. Becoming a psychologist wasn’t a straight line for me. It was a winding, often chaotic path, full of detours and unexpected moments of clarity. One minute I was cold-calling someone from the Yellow Pages to see if they fancied a new window, the next I was talking them through a divorce and recommending they block their ex. Not exactly textbook career progression, but every detour taught me something. Whether it was sitting with someone after a life-altering diagnosis or unexpectedly becoming a makeshift agony aunt in my call centre role, each moment helped shape the psychologist I’ve become. And honestly, I wouldn’t change any of it.

Being at the end of training is a strange place to be. In many ways, it feels like the closer you get to the finish line, the further the goalposts move. There’s always one more deadline, one more form, one more layer of reflection. But this moment also brings with it a sense of deeper reflection, not just personally, but professionally. It feels especially poignant given the recent closure of the Professional Doctorate in Counselling Psychology at the University of South Wales. Many of us across cohorts received scholarships from our local health boards, which was a monumental shift in how Counselling Psychology training became more accessible. The course team worked incredibly hard to build those connections and create pathways that reflected the needs of the communities we served, working-class communities, Welsh-speaking communities, and those often hard to reach. The closure feels like a real loss. And yet, I also carry a deep sense of pride to have trained there. What the course represented, inclusion, collaboration, community-rooted practice, continues in the work we do as graduates.  The values that shaped us we will carry forward in every room we enter, in every client we sit with, and in every system we try to make better.

Thank you so much Rea for sharing your experiences. It is so true that we are formed by our journey and each twist and turn shapes us into the clinician we become. We wish you well for the viva exam and look forward to seeing your career blossom. 

Perhaps reading Rea's blog post has reminded you of your own path, your own experiences on a journey to qualify as a Practitioner Psychologist, PWP (psychological wellbeing practitioner), CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) practitioner, counsellor, or psychotherapist. We welcome trainees and qualified colleagues to share their stories, to inspire the next generation of clinicians.

Kind regards,

The Pathways team.