Over the next few weeks, I'm going to have a deeper conversation and work on emotions. What they are. Why do they exist?

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.

Are you being a bit of a drama queen? Stay with me. I know that might land with a sting. Your first instinct might be, Absolutely not. How dare you? But if we’re honest with ourselves, most of us have an inner drama queen who loves to come out and play. They’re the part of us that builds situations up in our heads. The one who loves to slip into the role of the victim. The one who secretly enjoys being the saviour. And yes, even the one that becomes the persecutor, convinc

What do we really mean when we say we want to be happy? Is it a feeling? A destination? A reward for getting life “right”? We chase it in our work, our homes, our endless to-do lists, as though it’s something out there, waiting to be found. But maybe what we’re really searching for isn’t happiness at all. Maybe it’s connection.

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.

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.

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

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...