27/01/2026
For a long time, I believed ā like so many of us ā that a good life had to be earned.
Earned through effort. Through achievement. Through doing more, being more, holding it all together.
I had the career, the structure, the life that made sense on paper. I was capable, responsible, high-functioning. And yet, beneath the momentum, something in me was quietly fading. I was moving through my days efficiently, but not always inhabiting them. Presence was rare. Rest felt undeserved. Joy came in brief flashes, quickly replaced by the next task.
It wasnāt one big breaking point that changed everything ā and yet, there was one moment that quietly opened the door to change. The passing of my mother. Her death stirred questions I could no longer ignore. It brought me face to face with the fragility of life, with time, with what truly matters.
From there, the transformation unfolded not in one dramatic shift, but through a series of small, honest moments ā moments when my body spoke louder than my mind. The exhaustion that wouldnāt lift. The longing for stillness. The ache to feel connected again ā to myself, to the land, to something slower and more true.
What helped me find my way back were practices that spoke to the whole of me ā body, mind, and soul. Yoga taught me how to listen again. NLP helped me untangle the inner narratives I had absorbed without question.
And alongside these tools, there was a drive that had lived in me since childhood ā a deep desire to make the world a safer, kinder, more truthful place for women. I had witnessed struggle early in life. I had felt the lack of safety in my body as a young woman. I had lived the quiet weight of corporate cultures shaped without women in mind ā unspoken expectations, unconscious bias around our potential, and a rhythm of work that asked us to stretch endlessly while calling it flexibility, a rhythm ignoring our women's inner cycles.
These experiences didnāt harden me ā they clarified me. They showed me how much women are asked to adapt, endure, and perform, often at the cost of their aliveness.
What began to heal me wasnāt doing more.
It was listening.
Listening to my body.
Spending time on the earth.
Moving with intention instead of pressure.
Remembering that life moves in cycles ā seasons of action, seasons of rest ā and that I am part of those cycles too.
Fulfilment, Iāve learned, isnāt something we chase or achieve.
Itās something we remember.
It lives in the body that knows when to slow down.
In the breath that brings us back to now.
In the simple act of feeling the ground beneath our feet and allowing ourselves to be here.
This remembering changed the way I live, the way I move, and the way I guide others. And it is the foundation of everything I now share.
In the coming days, Iāll be sharing more about this journey ā and about the simple, powerful ways we can return to a life that feels grounded, alive, and deeply resourced from within.
