A quiet welcome to Questioning Echoes
You don’t need to know what you’re feeling to be here.
Maybe you opened this page without knowing why.
Maybe something in you is stirring, softly, slowly.
Maybe you’re tired of trying to find the “right” words.
That’s where my poems begin too.
This space holds poems written in those quiet, in-between moments.
I don’t follow the rules. I follow the feeling.
Sometimes the poems are messy. Sometimes they land like truth.
But always, they’re honest.
I hope these pieces help you hear something in yourself.
Even if it’s just a whisper.
There’s no plan. No pressure. No inbox clutter.
Just one poem at a time, whenever it’s ready.
You’re welcome here.
Truly.
Emma
A Little More About Me
Hi, I’m Emma. A single mother. AuADHD human. Poetry-writing, mountain-loving cycle-breaker.
I wear a few hats. I’m a part-time Positive Psychologist and Qualified Coach, but mostly, I explore what it means to come home to yourself as an invisible woman. Gently, honestly, in your own time.
By day, I work in a steady (and honestly, quite boring) job at the University of Oxford – a choice I made for financial stability after years of uncertainty.
But my soul work? That lives elsewhere and has risen. from my own healing and academic work.
My soul work is in my writing, my background in psychology, and the quiet moments when I try to make sense of things through reflection, self-awareness, and telling the truth, even when it’s hard.
I came to this path the long way round.
I survived marriage, divorce, abuse and the family I was born into.
A few years ago, I finally bought my own house, independently of anyone else. In doing so, I moved countries.
I got my BSc in Psychology at 38 (which I’m ridiculously proud of), and followed it up with an MSc in Applied Positive Psychology, then trained as an integrative coach.
But really, my qualifications are lived, from my experience with everything I write about.
I’ve been the woman with no voice. The woman who carried too much. The woman who stayed small so others could stay comfortable.
And now, I’m learning not to be.
I believe in making the invisible visible. In breaking cycles. In naming what we’re no longer willing to carry.
While I now only offer limited coaching time, the heart of that work lives on in what I write.
My focus now is on writing, reflecting, and making sense of what it means to be human, through a poem, a quiet truth, or a gentle moment of clarity - and so often I do this by being in nature.
And when I’m not working, I write. Mostly poetry, most often in the quiet moments between things when my brain shouts, “Here’s a poem now, Emma!”.
Poetry is how I process what I can’t yet explain. It’s how I begin to understand what I’m feeling, even before I have the words. It’s the quiet place where I begin to heal.
What matters most to me?
Honesty. Integrity. And my daughters.
(Also: dark chocolate, my golden retriever Bear, reading in the sunshine, and drinking coffee while staring at a mountain.)
I’m a mass of contradictions – sometimes I talk for hours, other times I have no words and can’t write or speak more than a few words. I crave peace and quiet, but can’t stop binge-watching a good story on TV. I love people, but dream of living deep in the woods with waterfalls, a fairy garden, and nowhere to be.
If you ask what I’d do with a life of no material needs, I’d wander. I’d write. I’d build a creative, peaceful, love-filled life soaked in wonderment.
(That’s still the dream. I’m getting closer, bit by bit.)
I write from a place of healing, mostly from trauma, often through being in nature. I believe in telling the truth, even when it’s scary. I believe the way we treat each other matters. I believe you were never meant to be anyone but yourself, and women, particularly, are conditioned to become who we are not.
And if someone reads my words a thousand years from now, I’d want them to say:
She lived, and enjoyed it.
