I'm Laura del Mar and, like you, I had emotionally neglectful parents
I know this sounds awful, and if my parents read this, they might never invite me for Sunday lunch again. But even though it might seem like it at first, this isn't about blaming anyone. My parents did the best they could and knew how (and I know yours did too).
At the time, they believed they were doing the best for me and giving me everything I needed.
In fact, from the outside, they seemed like exemplary parents. I had an ideal upbringing and never lacked anything: I had a home, there was always a hot meal on the table, I had love, holidays, new clothes when I needed them, financial resources, and so on.
If your parents gave you 'everything', why do you feel this emptiness?
If your parents tried to give you the best and, on the surface, you lacked nothing, what went wrong then? Why do you feel this huge emptiness? Why do you feel so disconnected from yourself? What has hurt you so much?
That's what we'll find out in therapy: what is the invisible force that weighs you down. Because emotional neglect is often invisible, but it affects you—a lot! Because what didn't happen (and you needed to happen, to be seen or validated) has as much or even more impact than what did happen (or what you did have, like food, financial support or holidays).
You and I know our parents meant well, but they simply didn't have the instruction manual. Now, the responsibility for healing that emotional neglect isn't theirs, it's yours and mine.
That's the focus of my therapy.
The 'good girl' fails the PIR
My only choice for university entrance was psychology, so you can already guess what has always fascinated me. I was born in Barcelona in a family surrounded by books from a young age, and the interest in understanding how people behave and deal with what they feel has always moved something in me. I was a 'good girl', with excellent grades and countless extracurricular activities.
After studying psychology at Blanquerna (with a very integrative approach that I now really appreciate) and spending a year on Erasmus in Italy, I went with some university friends to prepare for the PIR in Madrid. We met loads of people, had hilarious anecdotes, and I allowed myself to be who I was at that moment, without the old weight of my labels.
None of us passed the PIR, but the experience opened the doors to life for us.
When I moved to London, the language barrier reconnected me with my inner child
As the urge to live abroad wasn't satisfied there, after returning to Barcelona and specialising in child and adolescent clinical psychology, I moved to London. The initial idea was to improve my English, so I worked as a nanny. What a humbling experience for my ego! In Barcelona, I was already working as a psychologist, so I had to learn that my identity wasn't just defined by my profession. Goodbye to 'Hi, I'm Laura and I'm a psychologist!'
London heightened my curiosity and drowned my complacency, taught me to adapt quickly to change, to face my shadows like never before, and to speed up my pace more than ever.
I decided to keep studying (of course!) and started a four-year master's in psychotherapy.
I'd always hidden behind language, able to explain what was happening to me emotionally with words and concepts. Even though my English was very good, I couldn't express myself like my native colleagues, so inevitably this barrier led me to reconnect with that feeling of being a child surrounded by 'bigger', 'more knowledgeable' adults. This was a direct journey to connect with my inner child—with her vulnerability and her limitations.
Then came the most transformative journey of all: motherhood
After seven years, I felt my cycle in London was coming to an end. I returned to Barcelona with my partner, we got married with a party to remember, and I reconnected with my roots. On returning, I knew I was a completely different person from the one who had left, but many people around me expected to meet the old Laura again. So, the reverse culture shock also took its toll.
I continued training in groups, from person-centred psychotherapy to trauma (thanks to sensorimotor psychotherapy), so I could truly support people through whatever they had experienced. We went through the pandemic in Barcelona, and it was a time of reflection that helped us feel ready to embark on the most powerful transformative journey I've ever made: motherhood. We decided to move to a small seaside village, to connect with a slower pace and give our little one (and ourselves) a safe space to play in the street and feel supported by the community.
Motherhood has been a before and after for me. As if all the previous work I'd done suddenly accelerated. As if what I used to doubt suddenly became clear. I let go of layers of myself that no longer served me, relationships that didn't fit with who I am now, wild demands that needed more review, beliefs that told me I had to be productive at all costs—until I realised I live for myself, not to prove anything to the world.
And with all this story, I'm the psychotherapist you see here. With my vulnerabilities and my strengths. Reaching out my hand to support you in whatever you need.