Posts in 2019M
Why I DON'T ask for help... #worldmentalhealthday

Today is world mental health day.

I shared two vulnerable posts on my personal Facebook page in the last couple of days and felt they were worth sharing here as a combined blog post since the space they created for comments to open up off the back of them were beautiful.

We so often read posts about reaching out and asking for help, so this morning I took a moment to reflect on how this shows up for me... why I reach out and why I don't.

I have so many wonderful people around me who I know I can call on for support and often I do. I have no trouble with the principle of asking for help, I'm willing to be vulnerable and don't see it as a sign of weakness BUT often I DON'T ask for help and here's why...

  1. I can't articulate what it is I need. A feeling is often hard to put into words and when I can't do this, sharing jumbled thoughts has often led to jumbled feedback/advice reflected back at me. Or I ask for help for something and later realise that isn't what I needed. It ends up feeling more confusing and messy than if I didn't ask at all.

  2. I don't realise I needed the help until i'm out the other side. Often when in the grip of loneliness, overwhelm or feeling low, I don't recognise it until I am on the upswing to feeling good again, by that point the moment when I needed help the most has passed. It isn't that I wouldn't have reached out, but simply that I didn't recognise I needed to.

  3. I need to work through it on my own. Sometimes I simply have a sense this is something I need to sit with. Not judge, question, work out, fix or analyse or share... just sit with and allow to pass through and catch the lessons learned along the way.

As I reflect further, I notice that in my mind 'helping' is associated with an act of 'doing' something. Yet so often asking for 'help' could simply be asking for space to 'share' or space to 'be' in the company of another.

There is often no 'doing' on the part of the helper. I think this is the part I most need to remember, both as the helper and the one asking for it.

How about you, what stops you from asking for help when you might need it?

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This is the post that preceded the one above. This one is super vulnerable and sharing here is throwing up all sorts of fear of judgment that as a coach I should ‘have it all sorted’ (which I do know is ridiculous and totally not true!) I think it also touches a little on why many times I haven’t asked for help… fear of feeling even more confused than I started maybe?

Ok I’m gonna get super honest.

I’ve been in a weird space for much of this year.

Whilst on a technical level my abilities in my work and the passion and clarity behind my message have grown significantly, my self-confidence has taken a major dip seemingly out of nowhere.

It makes no sense, a total contradiction and putting it bluntly it’s screwed with my head! As someone already prone to overthinking, it’s really not helped the situation, ha ha.

I’ve found myself holding back, creating ‘more things’ as a distraction from myself, spending more time on my own and feeling the grip of loneliness on more than a handful of occasions.

I say this not for any kind of sympathy vote, but simply to share openly so that you can see this can affect anyone in any season of life.

From the outside I know I might like I’ve got it ‘all sorted’. On paper my life looks incredible, and I know it totally is... I do work I love, I have great health and I have the total freedom to live and travel whenever and wherever I want...

So why the low confidence? To be honest I have no idea.

So many times I’ve beaten myself up with “how dare I feel this way when I have so much going for me”. But I’m no longer judging it, I’ve stopped questioning it, I’m allowing the feelings and I’m trusting this is all part of the bigger picture of my journey. Acknowledging that out loud feels good.

I went for a walk with my mum along the beach earlier this week. There was a beautifully smooth area of sand calling at me to write on it. This was the word that came to my mind.

I think each and every one of us could do with a little extra courage in some aspect of our lives, to live that bit bigger and bolder, and we all know it only comes from digging deeper within.

I often talk about finding ‘the magic in the messy’ and this year has been a test for sure!

So I’m calling on my courage over these next few weeks as we rapidly head towards the end of the year, to live that little bit bigger and that little bit brighter.

How about you, where could you do with a little extra courage in your own life?


There are less than three months before the end of the year, we are now rolling well into the last quarter of the year, and of the decade- whaaaat!

Take a moment not to reflect on all the things you haven’t done but to ground yourself in the reality that there is still time to take those tiny steps on the way to becoming who you want to be. It takes commitment and courage, and you have both of those things right now. Trust me.

I hadn’t planned to add a link here, but it feels right. If it calls to you, I am hosting a co-working retreat for women working on a personal passion project or business venture and could benefit from the support, technical expertise and safe space of an intimate co-working environment in beautiful sunny Andalusia. Two spaces remain to join me. Full details HERE.



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Celebrating the 'lasts' and the 'firsts'...

It's funny how quickly we fall into routines and habits. So often subconsciously, that you only realise you built them when it's time to move on.

I spent the last eight months house sitting for my friend’s parents as they travelled Australia and Canada and I hadn't realised how much their place had become like home. I've now moved on to another housesit and this morning as I woke up, I lie in bed waiting for the first grandfather clock chimes of the day.

They would always chime at 7:15.

But this morning, they didn't come because I'm no longer in the house with the grandfather clock.

So often when I was working from home in the silence of my own company, the quarterly chimes of the clock would be my solid companion. It was so comforting to know it was there, the backbone to my day.

I'd even say good morning to the clock every time I came down the stairs into the hallway. Other small rituals too, walking into the conservatory throughout the summer months, sitting and gazing out into the garden as I sipped my lemon water.

Those little things you don't realise you'll miss until they're gone.

But the beauty of leaving somewhere is that you get to appreciate all that you had.

It heightens your awareness of these moments in life.

When I woke up this morning and flicked through Facebook. I was reminded of a memory from this day last year. It was the day I left my childhood home that I'd lived in, other than when I went to uni and short stints with partners, for most of my life. I’d spent 28 years in the house and I’d spent all my life in that town.

I'd written a post that turned into a poem on my last morning of waking up in that bed.

All the 'lasts' I would have the final chance to do.

The last walk to my gym.

The last awkward flush of the dodgy toilet and the upstairs bathroom.

The last glance through my bedroom window to the houses opposite

The last click of the gate where the postman hadn't shut it properly and it jiggles on the latch.

The last time I crouched down at floor level to look in the fridge whilst making my lunch.

I remember that feeling of melancholy, of losing, of missing of almost clutching to these memories. But in that same moment, I realised that with all these lasts, comes the appreciation of those memories but also it's the 'lasts' that make the room for new 'firsts' to take their place.

I love that reframe. Because without all those lasts, without that awareness, appreciation and forward momentum of moving into a new chapter. There is no room for whole host of new firsts and that's such an exciting and beautiful anticipation.

What 'lasts' can you honour and what new 'firsts' can you create in your world today?


Silly selfie taken on the lawn at my old house a few weeks before I loved last year…

Silly selfie taken on the lawn at my old house a few weeks before I loved last year…

As an additional note, I thought I’d share with you the poem I wrote on leaving day from the childhood. home. I remember the moment I wrote this poem. I’d just woken up, I hadn’t yet got out of bed, I was lying on my back and my notebook was by my bedside so I reached over and grabbed it.

Reflecting on all the memories that had come before in those 28 years, this poem evolved.

THE LAST TIME

Moving day dawns
I find myself noticing the ‘lasts’
The last nights sleep in this bed
The last gaze at sunlight hitting my curtains as I open my eyes
The last awkward flush of the dodgy upstairs toilet
The last turn of the stiff shower handle
The last morning mug of lemon water stood in that kitchen looking out at the birdbath
The last time I walk barefoot across that garden
The last time I handstand against that garage wall
The last clink of the garden gate that the postman didn’t shut
The last time I hear that landline ring
The last time I take those stairs two at a time and hold the banister to jump down the bottom three
The last time I cycle to the gym just around the corner and cut through the woods
The last time I crouch to stare into that fridge whilst making lunch
The last time I hear the cats scamper down the stairs as my mum prepares their food
The last time I hear bikes rattle down the bridle path running alongside the house
The last time I smell the scent of my childhood
The last time I maneuver my car out of the driveway on autopilot
The last time I pause to check for traffic at the top of that road as I pull away

The last time...

I notice a subtle melancholy
An inward celebration
But then the dawn of realisation...
That these ‘lasts’ create the space
For new ‘firsts’ to take their place

A smile creeps across my face



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Feeling totally exposed even in my own private company

As I sat up in bed, immediately upon waking this morning, I had a sudden urge to grab my phone and take a photo of myself looking in huge mirrored doors of the built in wardrobe that flanks one side of the room.

This isn't a photo for likes or comments, but a representation of how it has shaped me over the last few months, the difference that having a huge mirrored surface opposite the doorway of the bedroom has made in my life.

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For context, I moved into this house in January. It's an eight month house sit for the parents of one of my best friends. It's coming to and end quite soon.

I remember the very first evening I was here. Getting undressed and ready for bed and suddenly seeing my naked body lit up in front of the mirror in the yellowy light of the ceiling lamp.

I remember at the time, I froze momentarily then slightly recoiled. Feeling totally exposed even in my own private company.

I wasn't used to seeing my own body in its 'wholeness' and it caught me by surprise.

That in itself fascinated me. The fact that I'm so used to seeing parts of myself. Fragments at a time. Abstract. In small mirrors in the bedroom or in the bathroom, or when looking down as myself, a distorted world view.

Yet I’d so rarely had the chance to appreciate my full form.

Looking at photos of our whole selves is different, we're posed and poised. Viewed rom a distance on a small on a screen. Clothed.

But here I was. Full on, full out. Unprepared and unposed in all my naked glory, standing opposite myself. Looking myself in the eye. There was no hiding even though that urge rose within me.

The next evening when it happened again. I noticed my resistance. I noticed the surprise. I noticed the feelings of uncertainty and unfamiliarity with my own body. Unfamiliar with the body I'm so used to, the body that I have lived in for 36 years, yet I just never really 'see'.

In all its completeness.

So I got curious. I started turning around in front of the mirror. Looking at myself from as many angles as possible. The light changing and creating pattern and shape rippling over me. Twisting, tensing, flexing, looking at the curves, the folds and muscle tone and observing the wonder of the musculoskeletal system that makes the human form.

What magic!

It became quite a fun game. Creating a sense of familiarity and connection with myself, and in doing so a sense of compassion. And slowly but surely a deeper sense of self love.

Self love.

Not that I'd ever really hated my body, not at all. I simply hadn't ever really appreciated it because I'd never seen it, not really, not like this. I’d been so disconnected from my wholeness. I had no idea what I was missing.

But every single night and every single morning as I got undressed, I had the chance to observe my body in it's naked glory. Those moments became such a celebration. A private moment of connection and respect.

As the days and the weeks and months passed during my time in this house, I learned to celebrate the glory, the fullness and the completeness of my body in a way I'd never previously had an opportunity to, in a way that I'd never even seen as necessary.

I can honesty say it has been a beautiful journey.

So, this morning, when I woke up and sat on the edge of my bed, I suddenly had the spontaneous urge to grab my phone and take a photo. Not for likes, but to record this moment. Record how I feel to be in acceptance and celebration, in fascination and curiosity and at one with my body.

This beautiful, powerful body.

As I shot this photo, I had literally just woken up seconds before. My hair isn't brushed. I have an old T shirt and knickers on. Nothing else. I have bruises on my knees where I fell over. The bed isn't made. The room isn't particularly tidy.

But none of that matters.

Because this isn't for likes. This isn't an ego trip.

This is showing up as me in the moment. The spontaneous, raw, vulnerable, unfiltered beauty of me.

A celebration and a call to love in seeing ourselves. Fully.

Because I want you to see yourself. Fully.

I want you to find a huge mirrored wardrobe of your own and stand naked, to look yourself in the eye and truly see and celebrate the depth and fullness of who you are, because it's glorious. Truly and utterly glorious.

And it might take a while to get comfortable with that. That's ok. Stay with it. Lean into those feelings. Because with repeated exposure and a sense of curiosity, it will come. I promise.

I didn't realise before that I didn't love my body but it's simply because I never truly gave myself a chance to.

I'm giving myself that chance today.


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A choice to change or stay the same...

This tiny piece of wood hanging around my neck has a story to tell.

Over the days that lead up to the Osho Leela Mystic Heart Festival that I attended last weekend I was feeling a bubbling sense of anxiety and apprehension.

It's such an incredibly intensive and powerful spiritual gathering. One that I know has the power to shift me on so many levels.

Yet this time there was another undercurrent that was playing out in my mind.

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Last year I attended this same festival to co-host the very same firewalk gathering, and I'd brought my boyfriend with me. It was the first spiritual event he'd ever been to and I was nervous yet excited to share the experience with him. I needn't have worried as he absolutely loved it and it was it was an incredibly powerful moment in our relationship.

I was so wrapped up in love without any clue as to what would unfold between us over the following months...

So in the lead up to the festival this year, I so many feelings bubbling under the surface.

Since we split last November, I have found it incredibly tough at times. I thought he had been 'the one' and then it all came crashing down around me.

Over the last few months as I've made peace and dropped any anger and judgments I may have been holding on to, at times I still can't help but still feel so love for him. So much love, love for who we had been together.

I worried how it might feel being back in those familiar surroundings this time on my own.

On the first day I walked into one of the workshops, in particular, one that we had shared together last year and had found so powerful. During that workshop, we had discovered that the workshop leader also carved beautiful 'oghams' from various trees and that each one had a particular symbolism and intention.

We spent hours deliberating which ones we would buy, and we gifted them to each other, both wearing them all the time in the weeks that followed. I had even spent some hours scouring Hatfield park a couple of weeks later when his had fallen off during a run and he’d been upset as loosing it. I found it.

When we split, I could not longer look at it and had to put it away in a box, along with everything else.

When I arrived at this workshop, and saw all the various carve pendants laid out across a display table. I took a deep breath and knew instinctively that this was my opportunity to rewrite that story.

Start anew with a blank slate...

A shiny new chapter...

Shake off the residual fears and anxieties...

Let go of the 'what could have beens'...

At the end of the session, I shared with the workshop leader what was going on for me as something as a declaration and internal acknowledgement of my intention that this was significant moment of choice.

A choice to change or stay the same...

A choice to hold on or let go...

A choice to look back or focus ahead...

My eye caught this particular ogham carved into heather which symbolises community, friendships, family connections and strengthening of bonds with partners. All things I'm committing to draw upon and manifest more deeply in my life.

It felt the perfect way to read write the script and reclaim my story.

The shift was immediate. As the festival unfolded over the following three days, I felt myself feeling so much more connected, having conversations with ease whereas previously I struggled to initiate, forming close relationships with the girls in my dorm room, meeting people that I've met over the last couple of years and allowing myself to relaxing into their company, and even feeling the exciting spark of potential once again.

The energy of the entire experience became so much more than I could ever have anticipated.

All from that tiny moment of choice.

That threshold moment in which I claimed the opportunity to reframe my experiences and step into my power once again.

So this is a story of choice and a reminder that we all have choices in every moment. Threshold moments that have the potential to change the entire direction of out lives if we let them.

Yet our choices they often appears to us in the tiny moments, the moments that we can so easily overlook when life gets busy, moments where we hesitate and miss the calling as it passes by.

This is your moment.

What will you choose?


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Facing fear.... on the wrong side of the road

Last week I was in Spain on holiday.

But it wasn’t just an ordinary holiday.

This was created as an opportunity for me to face one of my biggest fears - driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road!

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It feels somewhat silly to even admit, as for many people it’s simply no big deal. Yet it’s been something that has been increasingly bothering me for a number of years and more recently scenarios have come up where it would’ve been useful for me to have driven. As I plan to travel more in coming months I sensed these opportunities may show up more and more.

So I had a choice to make.

Change or stay the same.

I realised that I didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity simply because I wasn’t prepared to drive on the other side of the road! 

I shared these fears with a friend. I shared with her my research on looking for a days European intensive driving course (which wasn’t cheap!) Then she proposed that we head off to Spain and stay in her parents apartment, and that she be the second driver as back up for me on the hire car.

So that’s what we did!

As it happens the entire holiday cost half the price that the days course would’ve done and I got a much richer ‘real life’ experience because of it, and I got to spend some quality time with two best friends (and her little baby) in the sunshine by the sea. As it also happens I actually forgot to add my friend as second driver when I booked the car so I had no choice but to do all the driving! ha ha

Upon heading back to the airport on the final day, we came to the main road out of the town to find it shut off due to an annual triathlon race.

It felt pretty intense, no-one around us spoke good English, we were pushed for time in getting to the airport and to be honest it started feeling felt pretty intense. There seemed no way to go and in the end a police motorbike had to escort us on a make-shift route the wrong way down one-way streets to find an alternative route so we could be in our way. 

I feel really proud of finally facing my fears... of driving on the other side of the road, in the dark, re-routing round roadworks, on motorways, on small country roads, through towns, parking in a tight space in a multi-storey car park, following behind a police escort, and often with a crying baby in the back seat! (he didn’t cry much only on long boring stretches when stick in his car seat!) I even did a little trip to the supermarket on my own to try out a solo trip.

So I went to Spain on holiday.

A holiday to face my fears!

But now I have a question for you…

This is a story about me, but it’s not really about me.

It’s a story about fear. A story about the choice to change or stay the same. About creating space to say ‘yes’ to opportunity.

Where in your life is fear holding you back, and what could you choose to do about it?


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Red lipstick...

When I quit my corporate career in architecture back in 2012, I immediately disowned the ‘power dressing’ culture where female sexuality was often used as a tool to win clients in a male-dominated industry.

In launching myself into the world of health and wellness I flung myself fully to the other end of the spectrum and embraced my inner hippie- barefeet and barefaced. Spending most of my time in gym kit and sports bras (or no bra at all!)

Truth be told I saw my willingness to disown make-up and accessories as a form of personal empowerment, and if I am super honest (this part is really hard to admit) I judged the women around me who I perceived still felt the need to ‘wear a mask’.

Yet, there was something that was still simmering hot beneath the surface as I felt triggered when in the company of beautifully put together women. I didn’t know how to address those feelings so for years I pushed them away and for the most part avoided getting to know those women, so that I didn’t have to address the awkward conflicting growing resistance in myself.

In recent weeks the inner conflict reached tipping point...

A growing awareness that how I am evolving and growing internally is no longer in alignment with how I look externally. In fact, there is now such a significant disparity, it can no longer be ignored.

I realised, that if I am indeed passionate about how we show up in life as the most honest, authentic, bold and empowered versions of ourselves then I needed to walk my talk and stop minimising myself, stop blending in, stop playing small on ALL levels- this includes my appearance! The unspoken void and the missing piece of the puzzle that was holding me back.

I realised I judged and resented the beautiful women around me because I didn’t know how to look beautiful myself (I know we all have a natural beauty but that's not a what I mean here). I didn’t know how to embrace my feminine essence as I’ve always been more naturally comfortable with my more masculine traits, I don’t know how to style my hair, what colours and types of clothes best suit me, what jewellery and make-up could accentuate my appearance... and I wanted the choice!

Choice switches us from playing the victim to taking ownership. It's a powerful reframe.

So I took a deep breath and booked a colour consultation for my birthday next month, I also booked a session with a hairdresser to teach me how to braid my hair, and with the encouragement of a friend in that moment earlier this week I took one more small but significant step in this direction… I bought a bright red lipstick.

Red is my favourite colour. It boldly embodies fun, passion and purpose.

I’ve never felt confident with make-up. Even when at university I felt like I looked like a drag queen when I attempted to apply it. I was envious of my housemates who knew what they were doing and so many times I would put it on and then wipe it all off again before even leaving the house. Feeling frustrated and defeated. Relying instead on my slim gym-fit physique to carry me along and convincing myself that was enough

This time in the privacy of my room I applied the red lipstick. Immediately I could feel the discomfort surge within me. I was pushing the very limits of my comfort zone and it took all my effort not to grab a tissue and wipe it off.

I looked at my reflection, sitting alone in front of the mirror, for a good few minutes until the discomfort softened and my curiousity grew. I smiled and noticed how white my teeth looked against the red of my lips, I noticed how the red of my hair was accentuated, I noticed how I didn’t need any other makeup with such a bold statement feature, though I did also try a little mascara.

I posed for a quick selfie and tentatively sent it to my friend. I kept the lipstick on for the rest of the evening, doing a double take every time I caught a glance of my reflection.

Today I found myself wondering if I’d have the confidence to wear it in public, if it could actually become my new normal.

I decided the very first step was to share the selfie with you...

red lipstick.JPG

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Finding the balance in letting go

Over the last few months (maybe even few years) I have felt increasingly pushed and pulled between wanting to get rid of 'everything' and live a very minimalist life, but at the same time wanting to hold on to all the 'creations' and memories of my childhood and my school years, holding onto all my art and craft materials, all the bags and boxes of recipe ingredients and food photography equipment lining my kitchen shelves, and of course all my books!

I find huge comfort and creativity in these things, but in equal measure, I find it all overwhelming and suffocating...

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Knowing there are stacks and boxes in the loft and under my bed needing sorting through 'at some point' creates a low level of anxiety that never quite leaves me, a subtle heaviness that holds me back. I have observed this for some time.

I want to travel and live a more transient nomadic life, not for ever but for a while, and all these 'things' are stopping me. I am letting them stop me. Why is that?

I feel incredibly emotional at the thought of just letting it all go, but at the same time a huge sense of liberation. Tears prick my eyes as I write this (unexpectedly)

Maybe that's called starting over?

Do I need to start over?

I recall almost ten years ago now, one weekend totally out of the blue my ex-boyfriend at the time stripped his life almost completely bare to prove to himself he could do it. To prove to himself what was essential. To get curious about what made him truly happy.

He packed everything he owned into boxes in the garage and challenged himself to live from the contents of a single holdall for a week, which became two weeks then one month. He slept on a roll up camping mat on the floor net to the bed for that time period also.

Once the month was done, he slowly added things carefully and consciously back into his life and got rid of the rest, the majority.

I remember thinking he was absolutely crazy at the time. But now I look back and smile with a shift in perspective, a new level of understanding. Extreme maybe, but only now do I begin to understand.

I wonder how to find the balance in letting go. How do I begin to negotiate this task?

Marie Kondo would ask "does it bring me joy?" Yet, so often I find it is not that clear cut. Many of these things do indeed bring me great joy, I'm just not sure that is the question I need to ask…

I have always formed strong attachments to things and struggle to let go often long after they have served me... relationships, clothes, habits... it drains my energy and holds me in the past. On the flip side, memories can be so beautiful, but even in their beauty can hold you back and stop you looking forwards.

I am a creator and my whole life revolves around creativity and using my mind, my hands and all of my senses to interact with and reinterpret the world around me.

The thought of not having access to the diverse physical expression of my art and creativity, not having all my crafting resources to hand to dip into at any given moment quite frankly terrifies me, it pushes me to the very edge of my comfort zone. I'm scared that I will be lost in my head forever with no way to physically create. Even as I write that I know that this is not true.

But maybe this is what I most need to embrace and explore.

Reinterpreting my creative expression through the eyes of a living a minimalist life.

I am curious as to where that might lead...


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The moment I realised I am a 'heptathlete'

I had something of a game-changing realisation today.

I have always been one of those people that has multiple passions and multiple strands to my bow. I was cool with that and fully embraced my creativity (or so I thought)

But today I realised that very same understanding has been holding me back in my business- massively!

I realised I held the story (ingrained from school days, books and societies conditioning) that in order to be a 'master' at your craft you had to focus all in on one discipline.

You have a choice in life - either be good at lots of things, or be a master at the 'one' thing.

By default I firmly held onto the subliminal belief I was a 'good' coach, a 'good' designer, a 'good' writer, a 'good recipe developer...

So when it came to opportunities to put myself in font of potential clients, to chime in on threads in facebook groups, to network and engage with people... I so often held back, incredibly frustrated at myself for doing so, without seeing what was playing out beneath the surface.

I inadvertently told myself that these clients would be better served by someone who was a 'great' designer, or a 'great' coach - aka someone who I perceived focussed fully on that 'one' skill and therefore must better than me.

Now I am calling BULLSHIT on that story!

For the first time truly seeing it for what it is.

I am also reminded of how all these strands and multiple disciplines play out to offer a richness and depth that otherwise would not be. My coaching work infuses my design work, my mindset and creativity is a powerful driving force behind my approach to a plant-based diet. My love of food and recipe creation offers a an incredible dimension to my retreats and workshops.

It’s not always about homing in on and being a master of the ‘one thing’…

It’s also about recognising and bringing to life the interplay between the various strands and the strengths they offer each other… as well as acknowledging that just because I have multiple passions and I spread my focus across them all, it DOES NOT mean that I dilute my talents or my skills. If anything, I have now come to realise that the opposite can indeed be true.

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I was speaking with my coach at the time, and just before this realisation hit me and in order to try and prove my point I gave this analogy;

"It's like the example of an olympic athlete, they are world champions in their specific discipline, channeling their skills and practice solely on that narrow focus to be the best in the world".

There was a short pause and then she said to me;

"So, what about the heptathletes?"

So today, for the first time I call bullshit on my lifelong story of never being more than 'good'.

I am embracing my inner heptathlete. 

Now… it’s your turn. Do you have multiple passions and strands to your business or even your hobbies and if so are you holding yourself back? Is it time for you to embrace you inner heptathlete and allow yourself to shift from ‘good’ to ‘great’?


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