Last week it was reported that almost half of NHS psychologists should be on the couch themselves - an astonishing 46 per cent suffer from symptoms of depression, according to a survey by the British Psychological Society. Here, a psychologist with substantial experience offers a candid account of their own ordeal some years.

I am sitting opposite my sixth patient of the day. She is describing a terrible incident in her childhood when she was abused, sexually and physically, by both of her parents. I am nodding, listening and hoping I appear as if I appear normal. Inside, however, I feel anything but.

My head is thick - as if I'm thinking through porridge. I find myself tuning out and switching to autopilot. I put it down to tiredness - I haven’t slept well recently; last night I managed just two hours - but after the session I’m disappointed in myself. I'm worried that I might have let down my patient and I feel a bit of a failure, but I tell no one.

One week later, I am in my car, driving across a bridge. Everything should be wonderful - my partner has a new job, my career as a psychologist in the NHS is going well, plus it’s almost Christmas, the second with our young child, and we’re readying ourselves for a move to London.