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It began with one image I couldn’t shake.

In my early work with trauma clients, I often found myself haunted by the vision of a city in ruins—like the aftermath of World War II. I imagined buildings collapsed, streets empty, and lives forever altered.

 

This wasn’t just metaphor. It was the emotional landscape I witnessed in my clients: everything familiar shattered, time suspended, and nothing left untouched by loss. In these moments, I realized that people weren’t just “struggling”—they were surviving their own private apocalypses. And so, the seed of Post Apocalypse Counselling Centre (PACC) was planted.

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To me, “post-apocalypse” doesn’t mean the end.

 

It means the fragile, brave beginning.

It’s the moment after devastation when someone gathers what’s left and asks, “Now what?” It’s the raw and painful space where survival begins to stretch toward something more.

 

For many people, trauma strips life of structure, meaning, and safety

 

— and they’re left to rebuild without blueprints. “Post-apocalypse” is about honoring that truth. It’s about naming the reality of what’s been lost, while also holding space for what might still be found.

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PACC exists because care should never be a luxury.

Too often, our world reserves compassion and support for when things are already going well. But what if we built a world where care was most available when everything falls apart?

 

My vision for PACC is a place where people can come exactly as they are— in grief, in fear, in burnout— and be met with gentleness, skill, and hope. Because even in ruin, healing is possible. Even when nothing feels okay, connection can begin.

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🤲 You're Not Alone

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If this speaks to something in you— if you’ve lived through your own apocalypse, quietly or loudly—I invite you to reach out. We can begin where you are.

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