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.

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

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

Over the last few months, I've been preparing for an exam to further my accreditation in the coaching industry, the ACC Exam, which...

If we hold onto our past, how can we ever learn to live in our future? This is a question I ask myself constantly.

So, after feeling completely burnt out, I picked myself back up and started working through the pattern. How did I get myself into this.

The Three Tools For Mental Clutter I Use Daily. Here's what I've learned: mental clutter doesn't just disappear.

Now, anyone who knows me well would describe my house as tidy, neat, clean, and, let's be honest, stage-ready. It's friendly and...

I was frazzled. I felt this huge weight settle on me—the weight of expectation. The "good mum" glow I'd been basking in? Gone.