There seems to be a feeling in the air at the moment. I hear it in conversations with friends and family. I see it on LinkedIn and across social media. I hear it from business owners and people in workplaces. Life feels hard.

I have always been described as an extrovert. I get involved in conversations, laugh, and tell stories, but what the outside world doesn't see is my internal narrative. This battle goes on when I am going to meet people I don't fully know, join a networking group, or go into a place I haven't been before.

There has been an interesting feeling around. I hear many describe it as "let's just get through this", while others feel a sense of the unknown, the question of "what will ever happen next?" tends to be the tone.

Someone can gain enough influence to rewire your brain and make you consider giving up your dreams, changing roles, shifting identities, or shrinking yourself. So, why do we let this hap I've been listening to incredible women who are strong, fiery, and just bloody amazing, and they're feeling caught up in knots and twists. They're unsure, worried, panicked, and they feel like their only option is maybe to leave something they've worked so hard for. Their confidence is low. T

Let's create space for people to tell us what they are feeling rather than telling them what they should be feeling. Let's just, for a moment, see the possibility of things going well.

Most of us say we want healthy boundaries. But often, what we're actually building is a defence, a line in the sand drawn in frustration, not clarity. We say things like I'm not working late anymore, or I'm done with people taking advantage of me, but those lines rarely hold. Not because we're weak, but because the boundary was built to block, not to serve.

Change. Oh wow, it’s happened again. I’ve hit the wall of my little box called life and now I’m standing at that familiar crossroads asking myself the same question we all eventually ask: Do I keep doing what I’ve always done? Or do I peek over the edge and see what else might be possible for me?

If you're feeling flat, directionless, or quietly anxious despite nothing being obviously wrong, you're experiencing a common response to collective uncertainty, and it has a name. Here's what's happening and how to find your footing again.

When did "no" become a dirty word Somewhere along the way, we started to believe that being kind meant being constantly available.

Powerless - is the feeling that you are stuck, that there is no way forward, that what is happening around you has more control than what is happening within you. At its most intense, it can feel like despair, helplessness, even a quiet sense of giving up.

Dear you, I've been sitting with this letter for a few days now. There is so much I want to say. So many thoughts swirling around in my head and so many feelings that have been rising and falling over the past couple of weeks, and yet… every time I've tried to write, the words haven't quite landed. Not because nothing has been happening, but because everything has been happening. I think, if I'm honest, I've been in survival mode. Just doing what needed to be done: packing, d

There are so many conversations we're not having. The quiet ones. The ones that swirl around at night when the house is finally still. It's not just the silent drift that can grow between two people in a relationship. It's the way we slowly stop seeing ourselves, and how that quiet erosion changes how we see them, too.

The person you speak to the most, every single day, is yourself. And that voice influences you more than anyone else ever will. Internal narrative runs the show.

Am I doing enough? Why does this still feel hard? Why can't I just move on? How can I change what I've struggled to change for so many years? Will this New Year's resolution even stick? Who am I kidding, it'll just be the same as last year… Those questions can sound like defeat, but they're not. They are information. They're the echoes of the parts of you still trying to protect you, the versions of you who learned that striving, pleasing or performing kept you safe.

NLP taught me that meaning is never fixed; it’s created. That every state, every story, every reaction can be reframed. That awareness isn’t just noticing what’s happening, but it’s choosing how to meet it.

The appeal of hustle is real. For many, it represents drive, resilience, and the willingness to do what others will not. It is how careers are built, businesses are saved, and opportunities are created when there is little certainty. In that sense, hustle deserves respect. But it is worth asking whether the version of hustle we glorify today still serves us, or whether it has morphed into something unsustainable.

Somewhere in the middle of all this movement, I caught myself feeling something that didn't feel quite right. It was that creeping sense that the world was rushing past me, that I was hanging onto the edge of it, that I had somehow lost my say in how things were unfolding. Everything felt urgent. Everything felt like too much.

Spend any time in a leadership program, personal development workshop, or even a local book club on self-growth, and one pattern quickly emerges: the room is often filled with women. Curious, engaged, and eager to learn, they are embracing growth with remarkable energy. Men, by contrast, are frequently underrepresented or arrive through encouragement from their partners, friends, or colleagues.

I was staying in a small serviced apartment, and over a few days, I noticed a quiet pattern forming. A coffee cup left from the morning, a breakfast bowl, then a dinner plate, each waiting to be washed later. It didn’t seem like much at first, just a few dishes for one person. But by day three, the little sink was full, and suddenly it felt like too much.

Who’s having endless discussions about AI and the future of our tasks, our jobs, our workforce, heck, our humanity?!?! Will AI replace me? Is AI a faster, smarter, better-looking, and more articulate version of me?