I was quite feral as a child and had a lot of freedom to roam. But that meant I found adventure and freedom in the outdoors. Nature was my “safe space” - away from the complicated world of minds, quick tempers, angry mothers and absent fathers. My favourite "sit spot" was at the top of a large horse chestnut tree in the waste-ground at the end of my street. If people had known where I was, they would have thought it dangerous for such a young kid to hang out at the top of a tall tree, but I felt at home and at peace, held by a wise old being that was silent and accepted me unconditionally. They say smooth seas never make skilled sailors, and for me it was here - in Nature, that I learned to weather the storms.

In some traditions, the teenage years are known as "The Thundering Years" and the storms certainly raged for me. As a teenager, I toughened-up and became increasingly lost, disconnected from my positive emotions, from others, from myself and even from Nature. It wasn't an easy time, but as an adult, I have learnt to look at my own teenage wounds as the gold that has helped me to connect with teenagers in the community today as a mentor and to understand the importance of Rites of Passage and time in nature during this difficult transition to adulthood.

As a young adult I began to long for simplicity and space and found direction in rediscovering my childhood connection with Nature through Wildlife Photography.  I studied at university, receiving a first class Ba(hons), and after many years of hard work and determination, began to live what was then my dream as a successful Wildlife Photographer. I received much acclaim for my work, including awards in Wildlife Photographer of the Year, features and front covers in National Geographic and BBC Wildlife magazines, speaking gigs at the Royal Geographic Society and Natural History Museum, television features on Countryfile, Springwatch and the One Show and a fun radio interview with Jonathan Ross. Outwardly, it seemed like I had made it, but on the inside, I was becoming stressed and saddened by the life I was living. Although there were many moments of receiving incredible nourishment and healing from my direct, uncomplicated connection with nature and many lessons I learnt about myself through spending time with wild animals, the competitive nature of the industry and the amount of time spent at a desk to make a success of my pictures was taking its toll. I felt like I had lost my way. The demands for harrowing pictures of suffering animals had taken over from the innocent celebration of doorstep wildlife. I felt like my pictures were doing more to shame and guilt people into handing over their money to charities and actively disconnecting them from nature, in the name of conservation. Who I was and what I had to say was being compromised and I found that at perhaps what was the peak of my success, was also my most unhappy time.