I followed every rule. It nearly broke me.

This is the story of my moment.

It wasn’t an explosion.

It was a slow, aching awareness that the life I had so carefully built—a successful career as a high school teacher, a packed calendar, and a resume full of gold stars—was no longer one I could feel.

From the outside, I was the woman who had it all together: driven, reliable, capable. But underneath? I was exhausted. Aching. Disconnected. I kept pushing, performing, and proving—hoping that if I just held it together a little longer, the ease and freedom I longed for would finally arrive.

But it never did.

Because I wasn’t present in my life...

I was too busy worrying about or working towards the future.

I was trapped between the woman I thought I had to be and the one I hadn’t yet given myself permission to become. I didn’t know how to rest without guilt. I’d been surviving by holding my breath—and I forgot what it felt like to truly exhale.

This carried on until my little brother passed away—and then, everything stopped.

The scaffolding of my life collapsed. The timelines, the rules, the shoulds... all of it turned to dust. And in the stillness that followed, something stirred.

A quiet question: What if this is it? What if this is all my life becomes?

Even though I’d checked all the boxes, it felt like I was performing a life—not living one. I was waiting for someone to validate my existence. And in the grief, I finally heard the truth that had always been there:

I didn’t need to try harder or be stronger—I needed to come home to myself.

So I did. I packed up my house, bought a van, and drove 40,000 kms around Australia—chasing something I couldn’t yet name. Peace? Clarity? Belonging? Maybe. But really, I was hoping the open road would deliver me back to me.

And in many ways, it did.

For the first time, I allowed myself to feel—the grief, the shame, the rage, the tenderness. I stopped outrunning the ache. I listened to my body. I softened into everything I had been taught to suppress.

Because here’s the truth:

Women are taught that our emotions make us weak. That softness is a flaw. That to succeed, we must push harder, do more, be better.

But I remembered that I am not here to perform, perfect, or prove.I am here to feel. To soften. To live.

So I did.

I slowed my workouts. Ate with intention. Meditated. Created calm in the chaos. I studied feminine energy and finally saw my sensitivity, my intuition, and my cyclical nature as strengths—not shortcomings.

And I started building a life from this place. Not through another rigid plan, but by honoring my body, my rest, my rhythm, and my desires.

This return to the body—this remembering of the feminine way—felt ancient. Sacred. Like an inheritance I had finally claimed.

Because I wasn’t the only woman holding her breath.

We live in a culture that glorifies burnout and praises self-abandonment as ambition.

But what if your softness was never the problem?

What if your emotions were never too much, but a portal to your power?

That’s the truth I now live by.

Today, I guide other women home to themselves. Not through quick fixes, but through embodied tools that honor the seasons of the soul. Together, we listen. We feel. We remember that we were never broken—just disconnected.

This is the work of feminine embodiment. And I’d love for you to be a part of it.

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I've been working quietly behind the scenes for the last few months, updating my website, my 1:1 coaching offer, and gathering all of the testimonials from my lovely clients.

I'd love for you to check it out: I obviously think it's drool-worthy and it belongs on a Pinterest board it's so pretty, but I'd love to hear your opinion too!

It's my greatest hope that what I have to say makes you realise that you're not alone, you've just never been given the time, the tools, or the safe space to become who you were always meant to be.

Check out my testimonials here 🤍