I spent three decades in primary classrooms, and if that time taught me anything, it's that real change happens when people feel truly seen and understood. Connection is everything.

Teaching eventually led me to start my own business, Mind Body Soul Bottega, where I was able to nurture the whole person. Mind, body and soul. These days I'm trying my hand as a behaviour practitioner, working with participants, families and stakeholders who need support the most, and I've carried that same philosophy with me.

But honestly, most of what I know about resilience I didn't learn in a classroom or a course. I lived it.

I had my first baby at 19. I lost my dad when I was 21. By 25 I was a single mum with two little ones. I later spent more than five years in an abusive relationship before I found the courage to leave. Then I met the man of my dreams, and life did it’s worst. He died in my arms of a heart attack at 45. I was in my early forties. I lost everything and started again.

And that wasn't the last time either. I've built two businesses from scratch and had to close them both through circumstances outside my control. I was bullied out of my public teaching career and ill health retired. Every single time, I picked myself up and rebuilt, financially and emotionally, until I was stable again. I went back to teaching in the private sector, but I never let go of the belief that there was more waiting for me.

I want to be clear about something, though. I didn't magically move on from any of it. There was no waking up one morning suddenly healed. I had to sit in the darkness and the grief and feel every bit of it. At my lowest, the pain was so heavy that I didn't want to be here anymore. I'm not ashamed to say that now, because I know I'm far from the only one who has been in that place, and I know how much it matters to hear that someone made it through.

I didn't make it through alone. It took my friends. It took my family. It took a whole community of people who sat with me in the mess, who checked in, who held me up on the days I couldn't do it myself. Nobody rebuilds alone, and I certainly didn't. That's a truth I carry into everything I do now, because I know firsthand that healing happens in connection with others, not in isolation.

And it took time. Years, in fact, and the work isn't finished. I don't believe anyone is ever truly "healed." What we do is learn to love ourselves a little more each day, and react a little less. We learn to see that life happens for us, not to us. I've even come to accept my darkest days as strange gifts, because they hold up a mirror and show me exactly what I'm not honouring and not loving about myself yet. That reflection is where the real work begins, and I'll be doing that work for the rest of my life. Gladly.

I don't tell you all this for sympathy. I tell you because it's the reason I do this work. I know what it's like to lose your footing, to start over with nothing, to carry grief while still showing up every day for the people who depend on you. And I know it's possible to come out the other side stronger and more sure of who you are, because I've done it. More than once. Never on my own. There will always be wobbles. Waves of doubt, and days when imposter syndrome comes knocking. But remember the sunflower. Before it becomes anything, the seed is buried deep in the ground, sitting in complete darkness, covered in manure (yes, literally covered in shit) and drowned in water. Only then does it push up towards the warm hug of the sun and blossom into something gorgeous and bright. The darkness, the muck, the flood... none of it was punishment. It was preparation.

I love helping people discover their strengths, find balance and embrace who they really are. It might be a Teacher suffering from burnout, a child struggling in the classroom, a family navigating challenging behaviours, or someone who just needs a person to really listen. Everyone deserves a space where they feel valued, supported and understood. Everyone deserves the kind of support I was lucky enough to have.

I'm a parent and a grandparent, so I know how much we want the best for the people we love, and how burnt out we'll let ourselves get making sure they're happy and cared for. I've been that person. It's why I walk alongside families with empathy and a genuine commitment to making a difference, not just professional expertise.

I talk a lot about lighthouses. The way I see it, our purpose isn't to steer anyone else's boat. It's to stand tall and shine, so others feel safe to shine too. A lighthouse doesn't chase ships around the harbour. It stands steady, sure of its ground, and guides from there. That's why being authentic and comfortable in your own skin matters so much, and it's what I help others find.

I've weathered a lot of storms, and I had good people beside me through every one of them. Now I get to be for others what they were for me. The light, and the steady hand. I'd love to help you find yours.