When life is good, the team is performing, the business is growing, and things feel stable, the mere suggestion of change can trigger genuine anxiety. Yet when things are difficult, performance is declining, culture is suffering, and the team feels stuck, change is the very thing everyone is quietly craving.

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.

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.

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

What perception is projection asks us to consider is whether the meaning we are attaching to that behaviour belongs entirely to the other person, or whether some of it belongs to us. One of the reasons I find this topic so fascinating is that the human brain can only recognise behaviour it already understands.

If you feel like the state of the world is living inside your head, it is not a personal failing, it is a pattern called the Drama Cycle. Emotionally charged information is designed to pull you into one of three roles: victim, persecutor, or saviour.

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.

There is something deeply personal about the emotion of hurt. It lingers a little longer. It feels heavier, and often, we don't know what to do with it. We tell ourselves to move on. To let it go. To not be so sensitive, yet hurt exists for a reason. Its higher purpose is self-respect.

The most fascinating thing I notice when I guide clients through emotional clearing is that, once anger is softened and understood, something quieter almost always emerges beneath it. Sadness. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just present.

Anger is often the most reactive, volatile, and misunderstood emotion. It is the emotion most likely to push us into defensive behaviour, protective reactions, emotional outbursts, withdrawal, guilt, and regret. It is often the emotion that leaves us afterwards thinking, “Why did I react like that?” or “That wasn’t how I wanted to handle that.”

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.

There is a moment, somewhere around day three or four of every NLP Certification, when the room begins to change. If you were standing beside me, you would see it long before anyone says a word. This is the power of NLP.

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.

There’s something tender about this week between Christmas and New Year. It’s a strange, floaty space. Not quite the year that was, not yet the year that’s coming. It’s a quiet pause in the middle and a moment where the noise softens just enough for us to hear ourselves think.

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.