We often focus so much on either the future or the past. The past of what was and the future of what if… When we focus too much on the future, we can become overwhelmed and anxious. Now, I love the big picture. I love being able to see what we want to achieve and where we are heading, but what I was forgetting was all the amazing steps we are already taking towards that big goal.

I was thinking about the sentence I'd just created and the fact that I'd put two ideas together that couldn't actually exist at the same time. I had created an impossible equation, and yet I'd been asking my brain to solve it every single day.

I have been having an absolute field day lately with language and its impact on our thinking. I do, after all, educate and certify people in Neuro-Linguistic Programming. And my clients and graduates will tell you with certainty that it's far from the "let's all just think positive words and thoughts, and manifest the world" kind of narrative.

Certainty. It's an interesting concept. It's been sitting heavily on my mind because of a conversation I had with a client going through a huge career transition. Naturally, the career change has brought up a massive wave of uncertainty for them.

This week, I’m exploring identity in a way that moves beyond roles, labels, and what we do each day. In this piece, I share why identity isn’t something fixed, but something we practise daily, often without even realising it. I unpack how living on autopilot can quietly disconnect us from ourselves, and how shifting our focus to how we want to feel allows us to take back ownership of who we are becoming.

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

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.

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.

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.

A couple of weeks ago, something happened to me. I sat at my desk staring at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard but not typing, not really doing anything. I felt physically stuck, my body wouldn’t move, my head was spinning, thoughts racing like they were chasing each other in circles: “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough. I’m so tired. I should know better. I don’t look great. I don’t feel great. I am failing at everything”

We live in a world that has blurred the lines between presence and performance. A world that rewards the appearance of things over the felt experience of them. And nowhere does that show up more than in the lives we quietly compare ourselves to through the social scroll.

I know what it’s like to hold everything so tightly that you start to lose your shape. To smile and say, “I’ve got it,” when really bits of you are leaking out quietly in the form of snappy words, heavy sighs, evil glances at your partner, or that ever-growing feeling of resentment of life you don’t want to admit.

Fifty weeks of showing up to the page and myself. Fifty weeks (fifty lessons) of sharing the tangled thoughts, hidden fears, messy contradictions, and quiet revelations that come with being a woman, a mother, a partner, a coach, and most of all… a human.

I wonder if we’re part of the problem and if we are the ones creating the drama and the mental "comparison chaos" in our heads?

So, when did the innocence of our internal language shift? When did it go from cuddles, milk, fairies, and pretend lands to: Am I good enough? Why don’t they like me? How could I have been so stupid? They know I didn’t know the answer, now I feel terrible… Come on, don’t be so lazy

When I first saw my mum put on her lipstick, I noticed something change. Her shoulders lifted, just slightly, but it was enough. A sparkle

Our bodies don't lie. They're not trying to sabotage us; they're trying to speak to us. And it may be time to listen to your body.

How do we shift our mindset to cope with high-volume work and thrive? People are collapsing under the weight of it all, unable to handle