17/12/2025
I got into coaching for two main reasons.
The first is simple: it’s familiar territory. I’ve been coaching, supporting, guiding, and holding space for others in different contexts for as long as I can remember. It comes naturally to me.
But the deeper reason is this:
coaching builds awareness.
Awareness of ourselves.
Awareness of our needs.
Awareness of what we can influence—and how to respond more skillfully to what we can’t.
Through awareness, we learn to explore more workable perspectives, grow in the direction we actually want to grow, and move through life with less resistance. Over time, even challenging experiences begin to feel easier to navigate, because we’re no longer fighting ourselves.
The past few days have given me a powerful opportunity to reflect on just how far I’ve come.
In my 40s, I learned that I’m neurodivergent.
I’ve always known I was different—my nervous system, my physiology, the way my body responds to stress and change have never been “typical.” For years, that confusion lived not only in me, but also in every health professional who tried to help me.
Now, with awareness, something has shifted.
I understand my nervous system better.
I know my needs.
And instead of panicking or assuming the worst, I can meet myself with acceptance and compassion.
People often ask me, “Why do you need labels?”
And my answer is always the same:
It’s not the label I need—it’s understanding.
Understanding gives me clarity instead of confusion.
It allows me to care for myself without constantly questioning or defending my experience.
And it has dramatically reduced the invalidation and gaslighting I once faced in healthcare settings.
That doesn’t mean those challenges are completely gone—but now, I can see a clearer road ahead.
Last week, my doctor suggested ruling out a condition we were both fairly sure I don’t have. Still, it was important to do it—for peace of mind and to avoid the spiral of doubt that can come from unanswered questions.
To prepare for the test, I had to temporarily remove a few things from my diet that I rely on for nervous system regulation—something I didn’t realise I depended on quite as much as I do.
And that’s often how it goes, isn’t it?
We don’t always realise how supportive something is until it’s taken away.
For me, the impact was significant.
My nervous system struggled to adapt to the abrupt change. I experienced vertigo, intense pain, crushing fatigue, and a level of shutdown that meant I was sleeping through much of the day. My body felt as though I had a severe flu—everything hurt, and I simply didn’t have the energy to function normally.
Years ago, I would have panicked. I would have ended up in hospital, where my experience would likely have been misunderstood, invalidated, or dismissed—leaving me feeling worse rather than supported.
This time was different.
Because I understand my nervous system now, I trusted it.
I cleared my schedule.
I rested.
I adjusted responsibilities.
I met myself with kindness instead of fear.
With the support of my incredibly attentive husband, I moved through those days quietly and safely. Now that I’m back to my usual routine, I’m recovering steadily—and continuing to offer myself compassion, knowing my system needs time to recalibrate.
This experience reminded me of something important:
Awareness changes everything.
It’s the difference between panic and trust.
Between chaos and calm.
Between feeling broken and knowing how to care for yourself.
As a holistic life and health coach, this is exactly what I help people develop—especially neurodivergent individuals.
If you’re neurodivergent, you may experience what are often called “co-morbidities.” I prefer to think of them as unique features of a different operating system. When you understand them—and work with someone who validates your experience—life becomes far less dramatic and far more manageable.
My role is to help you understand yourself deeply, back yourself confidently, and move through life in a way that actually works for you—without shame, without gaslighting, and without constantly questioning your reality.
This is how I envision making a meaningful difference in the world:
by walking alongside fellow neurodivergent people and helping them build lives grounded in self-trust, self-compassion, and true understanding.