For the female founder, the creative entrepreneur, and the local business owner who is pouring her heart into her work but feeling overwhelmed, overstretched, and under-rewarded.
Running a business can be a lonely journey. You're the visionary, the maker, the marketer, and the bookkeeper, all rolled into one. But when the weight of it all leads to burnout, it's time for a new approach.
When I heard that our WhatsApp group was “too busy,” my first reaction was panic. Had I ruined something that mattered?
Instead of reacting, I used the Double Diamond design thinking process to pause, reflect, and redesign my communication. What I discovered changed the way I make decisions in my business — especially when feedback feels uncomfortable.
This is a story about clarity, courage, and refusing to make decisions from stress.
From a young age, I trusted an inner compass—a felt sense of integrity and direction. Following it gave my life meaning, but it also led me through loneliness, grief, and a painful reckoning with the belief that meaning guarantees safety.
This is a reflection on will, integrity, and what changes when we stop outsourcing our safety and learn to sail with the forces within us.
I grew up believing that rest had to be earned. For me, there was a magic number: 38.4 — sick enough to be allowed to stop, but not too sick to enjoy being cared for. Years later, I can see this pattern clearly in myself and in my coaching work:
so many of us learned to rest only when our bodies, minds, or lives force us to.
What if we operated in this world within our capacity? What if we didn’t have to navigate the constant experience of lack?
With the new year starting, I felt the pull to design and clarify 2026. But I didn’t feel ready. 2025 went so fast, and I was tired. The holidays did not charge me up. I came into January with a deep need to rest, to stop.
I didn’t feel clear, and the idea of deciding on yearly goals and setting up projects made me want to crawl under the duvet.
Chaos has been my lifelong companion. Growing up undiagnosed neurodivergent, I learned to survive by organising the mess — inside and out. But what happens when sorting is no longer the answer?
In this reflective piece, I explore chaos, creativity, coaching, and what it means to end a year without rushing to fix or define what comes next.
Last week, during a mentoring session with a new client, I was reminded of a moment from my own early business days — that strange, bittersweet stage when the dream starts to work.
I went from having three clients to fifteen. I was getting calls from people who’d heard about my work. It should have felt amazing — right?
Nope. I was completely overwhelmed.
My kitchen wall became a giant blackboard covered in to-dos and arrows. I forgot to look at it. My head was a swirl of things to remember, people to email, and a low hum of panic that I was already behind.
Then a friend asked me, “Have you heard of Getting Things Done?”
I hadn’t. But learning about David Allen’s GTD approach — or any structured task management system, really — changed my life.
If you had to imagine your organisation in a metaphoric way, what would you pick? An oiled machine, clicking and clocking? or a bee hive, ever changing, ever buzzing? What if the future of work looked more like a living system — one designed by women, for people — where growth isn’t forced, but allowed to unfold in its natural rhythm?
