 Listening to Terri Cole recently, she describes the high-functioning codependent (HFC) as someone who takes on more than their share of responsibility for others, often to their own detriment. It’s someone who appears successful and in control on the outside, yet struggles with deep-rooted patterns of people-pleasing, neglecting their own needs, and seeking validation from others, often sacrificing their well-being to maintain relationships or avoid conflict.
She said “the bandwidth that you’re bleeding for this level of over-functioning leaves you feeling exhausted, resentful, maybe a little bit bitter, underappreciated for all that you do, for all the people that you do it for in your life. You end up not fully self-expressed because you’re too busy managing everything”. It’s a familiar role for me, one I’ve worked to unravel, yet hearing her describe it this way brought an ‘aha’ moment. It gave me a framework to revisit some old patterns I’ve been noticing – patterns that seem to show up even in unexpected places, like my car. My not-so-old Mazda had been struggling, these modern diesel engines are designed to recirculate their exhaust emissions back through the engine and, due to a poor design, the exhaust system was overloaded with soot and may also to have been overpressurising the cooling system. I couldn’t help but wonder if my mechanical issues were nudging me at look my own inner state as well, as I could see the parallels. Author Anette Noontil would tell me that it could indeed represent an internal pressure building up due to unresolved emotions, unaddressed issues, or stress that I've been carrying without fully acknowledging. The car’s system, under strain but without immediate warning lights, suggests that while I've been functioning well so far, there may be underlying tensions that, if left unresolved, could lead to a more significant mental, emotional or physical breakdown. So I started to thinking about what might be "clogging my inner world' so to speak and started looking at my inner voices. Despite all the work I’ve done—on boundaries, attachment and other healing, and personal growth—I still hear so many voices in my head: self-criticism, judgment, fear, longing. One night, when I was particularly tuned in, I caught a torrent of snippets, each carrying its own weight:”I’ve failed”, “I’m not a good enough parent”, “Why am I being so harsh?”, “You’re being unkind”, and the list went on and on. Terri’s words helped me see how these voices, while shaped by care and responsibility, also reflect a draining of my emotional bandwidth. The more I try to keep everything together, the more I feel the strain—and the less room I have for kindness, love, and connection, especially with myself. I’ve felt this strain physically too. Terri mentioned that as we get older, we have less tolerance for the lack of satisfaction that comes from this over functioning in relationships. Burnout is common, especially for women who are perimenopausal and hitting the wall because of all the physical changes. Chronic stress has left its marks—weight gain, fatigue, and mood swings—but it’s also shaped how I show up in my relationships. When I look back on the romantic, more innocent and vulnerable person I once was in my younger days, I mourn the loss of her. Years of defensiveness, perfectionism, and survival mechanisms have distanced me from that part of myself. Now, in my relationships, I see how my guard goes up, even – or maybe particularly – when someone is being kind. Taking a moment to acknowledge the enormity of what we're unpacking and giving ourselves permission to pause is invaluable. I’ve learned overwhelm is a natural part of growth, it doesn’t mean we’re starting over or failing; it means our system is processing and integrating new levels of awareness. Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line—it’s cyclical, with deeper layers revealing themselves over time. It’s okay to feel like this is a lot—because it is – and we’re allowed to take it one step at a time. So I asked myself (or more accurately ChatGPT), when I notice the pattern, what can I do differently. Here are some questions we can ask ourselves:
Perhaps what my car—and Terri’s concept of the HFC—are reminding me is that it’s okay to slow down, to clear the buildup, to stop running on fumes. It’s okay to make space for the softer, more vulnerable parts of myself. And maybe, just maybe, it’s through reconnecting with those parts that I can not only restore balance within but also show up more fully for the people I love. Another key for me, as someone who relies so much on myself for everything, is to remember I’m not alone in this. Sure, I’ve built a foundation of resilience through personal growth, but I also now know I’m part of a larger community of people navigating similar patterns. When I heard these words, it was the permission I needed to give myself: “This isn’t the beginning of your journey—it’s a continuation, and you’re on a more advanced level now. Be gentle with yourself. Healing isn’t about eradicating every pattern at once; it’s about noticing them, choosing differently when you can, and accepting that transformation is a process, not a destination. You’re exactly where you need to be”. What I needed to remember most is that overwhelm isn’t a sign of failure; it’s a natural part of the growth process. Awareness can make all the difference—it can turn a potential breakdown into an opportunity for a breakthrough. Transformation comes when we fully engage with the struggle, embracing it rather than resisting. As Glennon Doyle wisely says, we need to "be in it" long enough to extract the lessons our challenges have to offer. Terri emphasises a key aspect of recovering from codependency is learning to hold space for discomfort—our own at others’ discomfort—without jumping into problem solving mode, and allowing it to guide us toward healing. As I reflect on my journey and the process of unraveling these patterns, I invite you to pause and consider where you might be holding onto the weight of others' emotions or responsibilities. Healing and growth aren’t linear, and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed as you confront these deeper layers of yourself. Ask yourself:
Transformation happens in the moments where we sit with our discomfort and allow ourselves the grace to grow at our own pace. Your journey, just like mine, doesn’t have to be about perfection. It’s about noticing the patterns, taking action when we can, and giving ourselves permission to rest when we need it. Imagine what we could do with all that freed-up bandwidth—what we could create, how we could show up for ourselves, and the deeper connections we could cultivate with others. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Beyond the Silver Bullet - Embrace the Upward Spiral of Transformation, How to Fulfil Your Long Desired Yearning for Belonging, The People Who Hurt Us Are Vehicles for Our Growth and How Do I Honour What I Believe and Care Less What You Think? To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.
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 Does the thought of another holiday party leave you feeling anxious? As a bit of an introvert, I’ve often found social events draining—even more so when life is busy. I cherish casual, incidental interactions at work or school but struggle with purely social gatherings unless it’s close friends or family.
This time of year, invitations make my body anxious and my mind race with all the other commitments and issues in my life. It’s like a cartoon engine blowing its gasket—I feel completely overwhelmed. I feel completely overwhelmed and wonder how I’m going to steer the ship that is Shona around this particular iceberg. Because I tend to be fairly outgoing and friendly in social settings, which is apparently quite common for a lot of introverts (and threw me off of recognising my introversion for a long time), people often don’t realise the energy cost behind the scenes. I’m one of those people who seems chatty and confident but ends up feeling like I’ve got a hangover the next day (and I don’t even drink). It’s just how I’m wired—my energy comes from quiet time, so I tend to pick and choose my peopling carefully. It’s fascinating to see how introversion and extraversion show up differently in my kids. One thrives on social interaction like a magnet to energy, while the other is like me—appearing confident but needing quiet to recharge. Balancing these dynamics taught me the importance of understanding and honoring everyone’s energy levels, including my own. Attempting to balance out the energy levels across a collective is more of an art than a science and it looks fabulous when I get it right, and ugly when I don’t. That said, when my mum was dying several ago now, it served as a turning point in my – what had been up to then - superwoman approach. For a time I simply just couldn’t participate in anything other than essential tasks. My physical health took a turn for the worse, and I was definitely in the burnout zone. This of course necessitated a rethink and reprioritisation of the way I handled things, it kicked off a whole new approach to honouring my own needs and values that has led to a very different life today. Learning how to hold my boundaries with grace has been a journey, and sometimes it’s still a bit clunky, but I’m getting better at it. Of course I don’t want people I know and communities I’m a part of to feel like I’m not interested, there’s a balance between honoring my introverted nature and exploring ways to engage meaningfully without overextending myself or feeling out of place. Claire Zammit and Katherine Woodward Thomas's perspective on belonging offered me a helpful lens here—it’s about finding the right ways to contribute and connect that feel authentic to us, rather than forcing ourselves into spaces that don’t resonate. Over the years, I’ve learned to protect my energy while still fostering connection. Here’s how I navigate the tricky dance of saying no gracefully while staying engaged in meaningful ways:
To explain this perspective to someone in a group setting, I’ll use an A.I. generated guess at how one of my favourite introverts, author Glennon Doyle, would likely explain it with heartfelt honesty, vulnerability, and a touch of humor, leaning into the idea of embracing one’s truth unapologetically while still being kind to others. She might say something like this to her child’s school community: "Thank you for putting this event together—it’s such a gift to the community! I’m a classic introvert and love connecting in smaller, quieter ways, like at pickup or playdates. Big events leave me drained and needing a day to recover, so I’m learning to honor that while cheering you on. Have a wonderful time!" I like it because this approach acknowledges the effort of others, speaks to her truth with self-awareness, and gently explains why she might not attend without diminishing her care for the community. Obviously we’d each come up with our own version of that which feels just right for us and relevant to the situation, but it helps steer me in the right direction. If you feel guilty for saying no to social events, remember that honouring our energy isn’t selfish—it’s essential. By understanding and embracing our needs, we can find authentic ways to connect that leave us feeling fulfilled rather than depleted. Whether it’s redefining belonging, seeking smaller opportunities to engage, or simply being honest about our boundaries, there’s power in showing up as our true self. So next time you’re tempted to push past your limits, pause. Ask yourself what feels right, and give yourself permission to prioritise your well-being. Your energy—and your community—will thank you for it. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Reclaim Your Power - How to Break Free from a World That Runs You, Do You Need to Heal Your Boundaries?, Win-Win-Win Giving and How Do I Honour What I Believe and Care Less What You Think? To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  When my doctor commented on how unusual my approach to healthcare was, it caught my attention. He mentioned how patients often expect quick fixes like antibiotics and feel frustrated when they're not prescribed. But instead of seeking a temporary solution, I’ve always been more curious about finding the root cause of health issues—a mindset that has shaped my journey since my twenties.
This conversation stayed with me, as it reflects a broader trend I’ve noticed—not just here in New Zealand, but globally—of individuals relying more and more on quick fixes, such as medications or over-the-counter solutions, instead of seeking deeper answers to their health concerns. There’s nothing inherently wrong with medication when it’s needed, but it can sometimes feel as though the convenience of a pill overshadows the importance of understanding what’s really going on beneath the surface. My journey toward holistic health began in my twenties when I was suddenly and inexplicably exhausted and rendered debilitated every time I left home, with constant and significant chest pains. Misdiagnoses, unnecessary antibiotics, and confusing tests left me with more questions than answers—until a doctor brushed it off as "all in my head." While his words stung, they pointed to a deeper truth: the significant role of stress in physical health. After a referral to a psychiatrist, I was diagnosed with generalised anxiety and panic disorder, likely triggered by a string of highly stressful events in the year prior – including a stressful court case in which I was a witness and the victim of a head on collision when a driver fell asleep at the wheel, and a difficult relationship breakup. This was a pivotal moment in my life. It taught me that stress is more than a fleeting emotion—it’s a powerful force that can reshape the body and mind over time in ways we often don’t recognise. Understanding this connection sparked a lifelong curiosity about how to address health issues at their root, rather than just masking symptoms. It became clear to me that true healing requires patience, curiosity, and a willingness to look beyond surface-level solutions. Now, in my fifties, I find myself navigating the physical and emotional shifts of perimenopause. While it’s tempting to attribute all my symptoms to hormonal changes, my earlier experiences remind me how deeply stress can influence the body—even years after the fact. The chronic stress and trauma of recent decades—losing my mum to cancer, enduring a gnarly and lengthy separation, adapting to co-parenting, and navigating the collective stress of the COVID pandemic—have likely left an imprint I’m still working to heal. Many of the health issues from those years, like kidney stones and migraines, have resolved through deliberate life changes, inner work, and direct nervous system support. Yet the symptoms I experience today aren’t easily pinned on perimenopause alone. I suspect they reflect a mix of hormonal changes and lingering recovery from chronic stress. Parenting two neurodiverse adolescents adds another layer of complexity, requiring ongoing emotional resilience and adaptability. This perspective encourages me to see my health as a dynamic, evolving process. It’s not just about aging or hormones but about understanding how past stressors continue to echo in my body. Addressing my current symptoms means digging deeper into both their immediate triggers and underlying causes, with a focus on healing at all levels. Looking back, my journey toward holistic health has taught me it’s more empowering to let go of the search for quick fixes or Band-Aid solutions. Instead, I’ve embraced the idea of listening to my body, understanding its signals, and trusting the slow, transformative process of recovery—both physical and emotional. When a menopause specialist suggested I consult an integrative doctor because she wasn’t interested in reviewing my hormonal profile, I didn’t feel dismissed. Instead, I confidently explained that I’m firmly in the driving seat of my own healthcare. For me, it’s about integrating the expertise of trusted practitioners, each contributing their own specialisms and strengths—including hers. I simply don’t hand my health and well-being over to someone else. This commitment to holistic health also led me to explore alternative approaches like thermography, a non-invasive, radiation-free tool that provides deeper insights into my body. After three clear mammograms and no family history of concern, I chose to switch to thermography as a proactive measure, reserving mammograms or other invasive tests for follow-ups if needed. What I appreciate about thermography is that it looks for functional changes in the body, such as increased blood flow or metabolic activity, rather than focusing solely on structural changes that traditional imaging methods like mammography detect. Unlike mammography, thermography is non-invasive and radiation-free, which is crucial to me. The use of radiation in mammography is known to change cells in the body, potentially contributing to long-term risks, including an increased risk of cancer. Given that, I prefer to take a more cautious approach when it comes to radiation exposure, particularly since my medical history shows no major concerns like family history of breast cancer or abnormal mammogram results. Thermography offers a proactive, preventative way of monitoring breast health without this concern. By identifying functional changes in the body before structural damage occurs, it gives me a chance to take action early, long before more invasive measures may be required. This aligns with my belief in looking beyond just treating symptoms—it's about understanding what's happening in the body on a deeper, more holistic level. Despite the lack of mainstream support for thermography, I’ve found that it fits into my broader approach to health: prioritizing long-term wellness and choosing options that resonate with me. Mainstream medicine often places a heavy emphasis on treatment over prevention, and approaches like thermography are sometimes dismissed or overlooked. However, by integrating a range of trusted methods—ones that go beyond the conventional—I’m able to take a more empowered approach to my health, one that doesn’t rely on radiation or quick fixes. The systemic bias against alternative approaches isn’t unique to thermography. Herbal medicine, homeopathy, and other holistic therapies face similar barriers due to a lack of funding, institutional support, and large-scale research. Overcoming these challenges requires more rigorous studies and a shift in how both the medical community and the public perceive alternative care. Navigating these barriers as a patient has taught me the importance of persistence and self-advocacy. Choosing alternatives like thermography means stepping outside the mainstream narrative, but I’ve found that proactive, holistic care is worth the effort. By integrating insights from various tests, lifestyle adjustments, and the expertise of trusted practitioners, along with listening to my body, I’ve created a more complete picture of my health. A chiropractor once shared a comparison that has stuck with me: “Relying solely on your doctor for your wellbeing is like taking your car to the mechanic only when it breaks down.” It resonated deeply, highlighting how reactive care often neglects the preventative maintenance that keeps systems running smoothly. Just as a car requires regular care from multiple specialists to keep it running smoothly, our bodies thrive when we integrate help from various experts who support different aspects of our health For example, while general practitioners are traditionally seen as the “mechanics” of overall care, they often focus narrowly on medical solutions. Instead, I rely on my Heilkunst practitioner as a holistic advisor, helping me navigate physical, mental, and emotional health in an integrated way. My chiropractor works directly with my nervous system, ensuring it runs smoothly, and I schedule massages to release muscle tension and support overall wellbeing. My dentist provides annual checkups, my GP facilitates access to medical tests, and routine smear tests and thermograms help monitor breast health. Over the years, I’ve consulted with a variety of practitioners, both inside and outside the medical model, tailoring their expertise to fit my broader vision for proactive, holistic care. This journey has taught me that true well-being isn’t about finding a single solution or following a one-size-fits-all approach. By trusting in my body’s capacity to heal and looking beyond quick fixes, I’ve discovered that true well-being lies in curiosity, persistence, and openness to alternative pathways. Whether we’re navigating a chronic condition, dealing with stress, or simply looking to feel more vibrant, stepping into the driver’s seat of our own healthcare can be a transformative act. Mainstream medicine has its strengths, but it’s not the only road to health. By exploring alternative pathways, integrating diverse insights, and listening closely to our body’s signals, we can create a more comprehensive and empowered approach to our well-being. So, I encourage you to reflect on how you’re currently approaching your health—are you waiting for your body to ‘break down,’ or are you actively choosing a preventative approach that nurtures your long-term well-being? Your body is your vehicle for this life, and only you can drive it. By all means, listen to the insights of others, but remember that even the most trusted experts, whether generalists or specialists, bring their own biases and limitations. True empowerment comes from understanding that no single perspective holds all the answers. Take what resonates, trust your instincts, and do what you know is right for you. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy You Have Amazing Options When it comes to Healthcare, Crafting a New Vision for Healthcare: How Our Personal Journeys Shape the Future, How Do I Know When a Relationship Is Healthy? and Womanhood: A Story of Our Time. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  There are times when everything feels like “a lot,” and it’s hard to gauge what a healthy balance of effort and rest looks like. Being highly capable and accustomed to pushing ourselves, many of us often take on more than we realise. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s reasonable for someone with our age, stage, and responsibilities. I’m certainly learning that just because I can do something—and even enjoy it—it doesn’t mean it isn’t wearing me down.
Take this week, for example. Amid the usual school runs, work, and chores, I spent a couple of days up in Auckland. After the morning drop-offs, I picked up my eldest part way through the day, and we drove three hours to the city, navigating our way to a hotel near the concert venue. It was her first concert—her first time in a crowd of thousands of people—and the excitement of a road trip with her was indisputable. At the same time, all the driving, navigation, and even figuring out how to access the underground car park added layers of stress. Then there was the two-hour wait to enter the venue for our allocated seating on a glorious sunny evening. Once seated, we had another hour before Miss McRae graced us with her presence on stage. But our seats were excellent, and the opener, Charlie on a Friday, was a pleasant surprise with his great voice and solid tunes. It was fantastic to experience the magic when thousands of uplifted people sing in unison. But I won’t deny that my joints and muscles were aching from all the standing and sensory overload. When Tate finally arrived on stage amid a flurry of flashing lights and loud noise, everyone leapt to their feet. I groaned, “What’s the point of a seat if I’m not going to sit in it?” and felt about a thousand years old. Still, it was a great night, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, even amid this busy time of year. When I feel this kind of fatigue creeping in, it helps to check in with myself on a deeper level and ask: “What do I truly need right now?” rather than what I think I should be able to handle. The answer isn’t always straightforward, but it often includes more rest, a slower pace, or letting go of a few small things that are taking up mental or emotional space. Even small adjustments in my routine or taking brief breaks can help create a buffer, allowing me to recharge bit by bit. I’m slowly learning that it’s perfectly okay to rest without feeling the need to “earn” it. Living in the Southern Hemisphere, I’ve noticed how spring, coming right before the holiday season, feels at odds with my childhood rhythms. Back then, the long, restorative summer holidays of the Northern Hemisphere balanced out the hustle and excitement of the year-end season. Here, it’s all go, and there is no natural pause midway. Amid everything feeling like "a lot," it’s easy to focus solely on the endless “to-do” list, on the aspirations and responsibilities that pull at our attention. There’s a constant juxtaposition between wanting to achieve more—manifesting aspects of my purpose in the world—and feeling the weight of it all. Recently, I stumbled across a set of questions about success that reminded me of a promise I’d made to myself: to stop and smell the roses—both figuratively and literally. As it happens, our roses are in full bloom right now, and they look and smell divine. In that moment of reflection, I turned to journaling. Taking stock of my year so far felt like a release—the tension in my body eased, and my shoulders dropped a good few inches. Reflecting on all the personal growth and healing I’ve worked through, alongside navigating unexpected formal disputes and negotiations, I was struck by just how much I’ve managed. Supporting my eldest through the transition to a much larger school—meeting new faces, forming relationships, and figuring out the best ways to support her—has been a journey in itself. Looking back, it was clear: pausing to review the year has been a game-changer. I know in my heart what truly matters—time with the people I love. That’s why I prioritise my kids when they’re with me, and carve out time for myself and my partner when they’re not. On those fronts, I’m doing better than I often give myself credit for. Then there’s my writing, which has quietly become just as important. After decades of searching for “the thing I want to do,” my book projects revealed themselves without any fanfare. They simply showed up—so much so that I even forgot to journal it among my achievements! And yet, the sheer time and energy I spent searching for that elusive sense of purpose in years gone past were immense. I do, admittedly, expect a lot from myself. My mind and imagination seem to run on a much faster track than I can physically keep up with. This makes for a frustrating juxtaposition: on one hand, I know I need more rest and a slower pace; on the other, I feel such a strong urge to do more, to make progress, to manifest these visions. And then there’s the ever-present reality of daily life. It’s one thing to give myself permission to rest, reflect, or reconnect with my intentions, but there’s still the vacuum filters that hadn’t been cleaned in 18 months, the cars that needed a thorough vacuum, the garden that’s been calling for my attention, and the windows, bathroom, and spiderwebs that need cleaning. There’s the cushion that needs resewing, the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, the tidying, the toys to sort, the furniture to sell. The list feels endless. Spring is naturally a busy time of year, and this flurry of activity has reminded me how disconnected I’ve been from some of these aspects of life. For so long, my focus has been on healing, reflecting, and writing, while juggling the usual weekly cycles of chores like groceries, tidying, and cleaning. Now, reconnecting with these other parts of life feels both overwhelming and grounding—a reminder of how intertwined the practical and purposeful can be. Grappling with the balance between our aspirations, our physical and emotional needs, and the realities of daily life is so layered. Acknowledging the desire to "do more", while also recognising the wisdom in slowing down and tuning in, certainly gave me food for thought. As I reflected on this busy season, I started to see something shift in how I relate to all the tasks I’ve been juggling. Chores and routines—the ones that often sit in the background or feel like distractions—aren’t just a necessary part of life. They’re a form of support, the scaffolding that holds up the things I truly care about. When I vacuum the car, clear the spiderwebs, or even tidy up the kitchen, I’m not just crossing items off a never-ending list. I’m creating a space that allows me to breathe, to think more clearly, and to focus on the people and projects that matter most to me. By connecting these seemingly mundane actions to my bigger intentions, they feel less like burdens and more like a quiet affirmation of what I value. Reflecting on all of this, I’m reminded that balance isn’t something we achieve once and for all—it’s something we adjust constantly. The push and pull between what we aspire to do and what we truly need is part of the dance of life. As I slow down to take stock, I realise that even the simplest actions—resting when I need to, tending to the chores, or journaling to clear my mind—are powerful ways to honor what matters most. What about you? As the end of the year approaches, how do you balance the drive to "do more" with the wisdom of slowing down? What might you need to let go of to create space for the things that truly nourish you? Whether it’s pausing to smell the roses—literally or figuratively—or reconnecting with the scaffolding that supports your life, I hope you’ll take a moment to ask yourself: “What do I truly need right now?” The answer might surprise you. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Is Your Peace of Mind in Flux? 7 Ways to Ground Yourself With Grace, Overwhelm? Worry? Lack of Confidence? Parts Work and Its Importance to Your Growth, and I Really Want to Go From Overwhelm to Clarity and Confidence. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  Image from Pixabay Change is constant, but there are moments when it feels particularly unsettling. It’s in these times of uncertainty that the desire for stability—both externally and within ourselves—becomes most apparent. Psychologists call these the “big stressors”—like changes in relationships, moving house, or having children.
A good friend of mine recently bought her first home, and I couldn’t be happier for her—it’s been a long-held dream. She’s feeling a mix of excitement, relief, and renewal. After moving multiple times over the past few years to find stable rentals in New Zealand’s challenging market, she now has a place she can call her own. I can relate to the relief she feels. I entered the rental market a couple of years ago after owning my own home for most of my adult life. Moving to this town almost a decade ago felt like a welcome change from the high cost of living in Auckland, and it allowed me to focus more on parenting. Our family settled into the community, and my children began school here. But when they needed to transition to two homes, the housing market had surged to near-Auckland prices. As a sole parent, buying became out of reach, and I found myself needing to rent. The rental market can feel like a constant state of impermanence. Limited availability, rising rents, and the unpredictability of landlord decisions mean that housing stability is hard to find. After less than two years in my first rental, for example, the owners moved back in with only two months’ notice—just six weeks before Christmas. It was an exhausting scramble to find a new home. Now, I’m in a place owned by a couple who plan to retire here, which could mean staying for a while or facing another unexpected move. The costs and physical energy required to pack and move repeatedly can make it hard to feel settled, like the place you’re in is truly a home. When my friend tells me she’s finding joy in simple things—like daydreaming about cosy evenings or planning a festive Christmas—it’s a stark contrast to last year when she barely had the energy to put up a tree. The physical exhaustion from constantly moving has been overwhelming, but now she’s experiencing a sense of calm as she settles into a space that represents security—a place from where she doesn’t have to move again. She mentioned that the kids are still processing the change, but they’ll soon begin to understand the depth of this new sense of safety and stability. Why do we crave stability so strongly when change is inevitable? Psychologists say it’s because stability offers emotional comfort, a sense of predictability, and control. As humans, we naturally thrive on routines and familiar surroundings; these provide a sense of safety and grounding. Change, on the other hand, can bring uncertainty and trigger stress. From an evolutionary perspective, stability was key to survival, and our brains still respond to instability as a threat. In moments of change, this natural craving for stability can feel even more intense—offering a refuge, a safe space amid the unpredictability. Adding to the sense of instability, this year has brought a series of unforeseen changes to the latest rental property I now live in. The owners have undertaken extensive work on the outside of the property, which has been more protracted than I expected. What initially seemed like a short-term project has unfolded in stages, often with minimal notice, leaving me uncertain about what to expect next. I’ve been clear in expressing my need for more communication and respect for my space, yet the work has continued with occasional surprises. As a tenant, I view myself as a custodian of the home—caring for it and respecting it as our living space. As the eyes and ears on the ground, by discussing plans ahead of time, asking for feedback on the works, and showing understanding for any inconveniences, this could be a partnership that really benefits everyone involved to minimise disruption. This external instability has prompted me to reflect on how I can maintain internal calm amid external change. In times like these, it’s so easy to slip into frustration and judgment, assuming that others should be more considerate, more communicative, or at least see things from my perspective. But the truth is, we can’t always change other people’s behaviour or values, only our response to them. And sometimes, what we react to most strongly isn’t the situation itself but the old voices and narratives within us that get triggered. I recently came across two quotes from novels that capture this beautifully. In Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, Eleanor begins to notice the difference between her own voice, which is calm and understanding, and her mother’s critical voice, which had often pushed her toward judgment. She says, “The voice in my own head—my own voice—was actually quite sensible and rational. It was Mummy’s voice that had done all the judging… I was getting to quite like my own voice, my own thoughts.” This quote resonates because it’s a reminder of how easily we slip into reactions shaped by others’ judgments or unexamined beliefs. In another story, The Cassandra Complex, Cassandra speaks about the importance of listening to our own intuition, describing it as a “solidness” within—a safe place we each have that knows the truth. The idea that we each have a unique sensation or physical feeling where our truth lives struck me, particularly when she so eloquently said, “I get caught up with trying to read all the music around me instead of one note inside myself”. When I listen closely to my body’s signals, I can feel when something’s not right, or when I’m reacting from habit rather than from my authentic self. These reflections have helped me see that the inner calm I’m looking for is already within me; it’s just about tuning into my own voice rather than getting caught up in frustration. When I tune in, I’m reminded of how I really want to show up in situations like this one with my landlord—with patience, constructive feedback, and respect for my own peace of mind. It’s a powerful shift that’s allowed me to feel more grounded and intentional. With this approach in mind, I’ve been exploring ways to handle the situation with patience and positivity. Here are some reflections I’ve found helpful for setting boundaries and maintaining peace, which are just as applicable in other challenging situations like workplace conflicts, family disagreements, or even navigating difficult conversations with friends or colleagues:
In short, these practices build resilience, respect, and collaboration. By applying them broadly, we can transform how we handle conflicts, disruptions, and boundaries in all areas of life—whether at work, in our relationships, or with ourselves. By tuning into my inner voice and practising these reflections, I’m learning to approach challenges with greater peace and grace. It’s a process of breaking old patterns and creating more calm, not only for myself but as a foundation for others to follow. Take a moment to reflect on your own sources of inner calm, what practices or mindsets help you navigate times of uncertainty? Whether it's focusing on what you can control, practicing patience, or simply giving yourself permission to step back and reset, let’s embrace the change around us with intentionality, cultivating peace even when external circumstances feel unstable. Because, after all, it’s not about controlling the chaos—it’s about finding our way through it, with grace. In embracing the inevitable changes around us, may we all find the inner calm that allows us to navigate the chaos with grace, creating stability not just for ourselves, but for those we share our journey with. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy What Makes You So Afraid of Conflict?, When Detours Define Your Destiny and Struggles Forge Your Strengths, When Life Throws Curveballs... Embrace the Twists and Turns of Parenthood with Confidence and Reclaim Your Personal Freedoms: The Path to Empowerment Amid Alluring Promises. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  It may surprise some Americans to know that, while their national election was on my radar, I hadn’t realised the outcome was due this week. I can’t help but feel for the people living there right now. Even those who voted for the outcome were, in many ways I think, manipulated by the media and political systems. It’s a sad reflection of what happens when a society is consumed by frustration and a desire for drastic change – and a warning to us all.
We’ve seen it time and time again throughout history—people who feel failed by their own society, electing leaders who promise to fix it, only to bring more harm, driven by their own self-interest rather than genuine care for the people they say they serve. The thing is, this cycle doesn’t just play out on a grand political scale. It's something we all experience in our own lives, feeling pushed by systems beyond our control, often making us forget that we have the power to create real change within ourselves and our communities. In the 1980s, growing up as a teen in the UK, we were in awe of capitalist America. As a nation, it seemed to do everything bigger and better. But even then, people were divided on those “loud-mouthed Yanks”, a mix of admiration and mild irritation at the brashness. Personally, I was thrilled to step off a plane onto American soil for the first time in 1993. I remember feeling a bit overwhelmed as I landed at Newark, trying to navigate my way to Chicago. An impatient security lady pulled me forward with an exasperated “You’re making me hot, lady!” Thankfully, a kind stranger lent me his calling card so I could reach my friend from a phone booth, a moment of kindness in the chaos of figuring out my way in a new country. Despite the rocky start, I loved America. I had a scrapbook full of magazine cutouts of all the places I wanted to visit, a whole bucket list of U.S. destinations. Over the years, I managed to see many of those places. America felt vibrant—its vast landscapes, incredible range of consumer choices, and the colorful mix of people made it a place like no other. But time, progress, and maybe maturity have changed my view. I now look back on that era as perhaps America’s peak moment of how it wanted to present itself to the world: in control, leading the way in every arena. Now, it seems different—less authentic, consumed by capitalism and consumerism, and many other “-isms”, seemingly blind to the impact of these forces on the collective good. The systems and media that once felt innovative now seem like they’re in a cycle of reinforcing individualism over true collective awareness. That said, there are still incredible people in America, many who are deeply aware, even as others remain—if the election results are anything to go by—stuck in older ways of thinking. The extremes can be stark, but maybe that’s the environment where transformation grows strongest. Perhaps the election shows that real change won’t come from within the established systems, but from people who are tuned in to something deeper. In many ways, I suspect that countless people in the ‘Western world’ have experienced echoes of this shift. Certainly, when I moved from the UK to New Zealand a couple of decades ago, I recognised aspects of the same systemic issues in both countries. In fact, it was on that note I was having another philosophical debate with ChatGPT, owned by OpenAI. We started out discussing the influence that big tech and governments have over our lives, especially with companies like OpenAI being backed by massive investors like Microsoft and other venture capital groups. As we talked, we realised that when profit and control become the driving forces, regular people lose privacy and choice—and the systems seem to actively encourage this. The deeper we went, the clearer it became: control isn’t just a byproduct; it’s often the end goal. Power tends to attract people who are more interested in their own gain than in what's best for everyone. This explains why issues like environmental harm and inequality continue to worsen, despite all the talk about progress. By the end of our conversation, we found a kind of answer to the frustration. While it might feel impossible to change these huge systems, our focus can be on supporting leaders and movements that prioritise people and the planet over profit. Even if we can’t overhaul everything, we can choose to stand with values and people who prioritise empathy, sustainability, and true well-being. Small choices add up, and that's where change begins. This, I think, urges us to look beyond the social and cultural expectations of what 'success' should look like in our lives and really ask ourselves what worthiness, ambition, and success mean to us. When I read this during the week, it truly resonated: 'There is so much pressure in society today, and within our families, to perform at a certain level—to live a certain way. We are expected to be so many things at once: fun, friendly, outgoing, hardworking, organized, generous with our time, financially “secure,” and ambitious. Doing it all at once is a high bar to meet for anyone, and yet we are bombarded with messages that suggest if we are not all of those things, we have somehow failed or not “met our potential”. Deep down, we know that is not the case.' For me, I’m at a pivotal moment in my life, blending personal growth with professional expertise to carve a new direction that aligns with my evolving purpose. Over the past decade, the things I’ve accomplished reflect both resilience and a deep commitment to personal transformation, laying a powerful foundation for the work I want to do moving forward. I’ve looked to the 'outside.' I’ve lived on the hamster wheel that our societal expectations and systems perpetuate—and I still do, to a certain extent, with the children’s schooling obligations and the realities of navigating public education, healthcare, judicial, and economic systems, to name just a few. But I’ve also searched inward, for my own definition of success. One that’s not about proving my value to others or being everything all at once, but instead connected to my intrinsic self-worth. My conclusion? To lead our way out of the corrupt illusion around us, we need to do what truly makes us happy. We must bring love and joy to those closest to us, and find value in the small victories we achieve each day. This is a critical part of reclaiming our sense of worth and purpose. For all of this, I do recognise that many people are so deeply identified with the hamster wheel that they can’t even distinguish between their own choices and what true self-empowerment can look like. We’ve been so entrained to chase money—and, I acknowledge, bills are a real thing—that it can feel nearly impossible to claw our way out long enough to ask, 'What am I really doing here? What is this life about?' And even if we do get that rare chance to pause, life has a way of sucking us back in before we can truly contemplate the answer. There’s the phone call or text from a friend, the job to go to, kids to pick up, dinner to make, games to attend, or maybe we find ourselves lost in the passive world of social media or gaming, losing hours of our attention. These bigger societal forces have designed it this way. But then, what? We wake up one day, 85 years old, and wonder what it’s all been for? Or we’re so worn out that we’re just waiting for the end, trying to enjoy the little we have left? Is that really it? The dregs of life? The truth is, the only person who can change this is you. It starts with engaging with life in ways that serve your inner desires and bring you closer to what you truly want out of this existence. As you read this, take a moment to reflect on your own life. Where are you caught in the cycle, and what’s one small step you can take today to move toward a life you run, rather than one that’s run for you? It doesn’t need to be a big change—just something simple, like carving out time for yourself, saying no to something draining, or reconnecting with what truly brings you joy. Small, intentional steps, taken consistently, can slowly shift the balance and lead you toward a life that feels more aligned with who you truly are. So, what’s your next step? If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Crafting Your Path in a Changing World - Embrace Your Uniqueness and Make an Impact, Reclaim Your Personal Freedoms: The Path to Empowerment Amid Alluring Promises, Be the Change You Want to See, AI: Your New Partner in Personal Growth and Creativity? and Change the World One Day at a Time. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  My friend lent me The Cassandra Complex, a really engaging novel by Holly Smale that blends relationship challenges and time travel with a thought-provoking exploration of neurodiversity and our obsession with getting things right rather than what’s right for us.
I love a well-written character who reflects familiar aspects of myself that I may have otherwise struggled to articulate, even if I don’t share their specific experiences. Cassandra’s approaches—her analytical way of seeing the world, her need for structure, and her reactions to sensory or social situations—feel relatable to me. These traits aren’t exclusive to autism but are part of many people’s experiences. Holly Smale’s writing captures these nuances well, making Cassandra feel both unique and universally accessible, inviting a wide range of readers to see parts of themselves in her, which I appreciate as a core aspect of great writing. I related to it so much that I filled out the Autism Spectrum Quotient (AQ) questionnaire developed by Dr. Simon Baron-Cohen and colleagues at the Autism Research Centre, a credible tool for identifying autism traits in adults. Scoring in the 26–32 range suggests I might share some traits commonly associated with autism (I snuck in at 26). However, childhood and generational trauma can deeply shape how we experience and react to the world, sometimes in ways that resemble neurodivergent traits. Trauma, particularly during key developmental stages, can affect sensory sensitivity, social processing, and emotional regulation, overlapping with traits seen in autism. If there were a category for ‘obsession with people’ in diagnosing Asperger's, I’d likely fit on the spectrum more snugly, as my relentless interest in psychology and understanding emotions is profound. This may seem antithetical to traditional views of Asperger's and autism, which often emphasize special interests in technical or solitary subjects. However, many autistic individuals have deep, focused interests in people, emotions, and psychology. This passion for understanding human behavior might appear to contradict the typical portrayal but aligns with a different way of processing the world. Many autistic individuals are driven by an intense desire to make sense of social dynamics and emotions, especially if these areas have felt challenging or confusing. For some, this focus becomes a lifelong study, not only as a means of connecting with others but also for self-understanding. My relentless curiosity about people and emotions exemplifies this beautifully unique expression, whether it’s linked to neurodivergence, trauma, or both. It highlights the complexity and individuality of our experiences, illustrating why there is such a range of traits within any diagnostic category. That said, I suspect my ability to read people’s expressions and feelings is more a result of heightened awareness developed from emotional experiences and navigating challenging social dynamics rather than being linked to neurodivergent traits. While many experts now recognize that trauma can impact the nervous system in ways that mimic neurodivergent patterns, some theories suggest that trauma—whether personal or generational—could shape neurodivergence over time. Much of the emergence of neurodivergence, along with expressions of gender identity, sexual orientation, and other forms of diversity in the Western world, stems from the rigid and suppressed expressions of who we are that predate and arose from the Second World War. Of course, my Heilkunst practitioner would say these traits are typical of the phosphorus constitution. In Heilkunst, there are six healthy constitutional types, akin to personality profiles, and the phosphorus constitution is associated with qualities like emotional depth, creativity, sensitivity, and a strong drive to connect with others—attributes that resonate with my passion for psychology and understanding emotions. She likens this constitution to a balloon bobbing in the air, reflecting how my energy feels—anchored to the earth yet yearning to float and explore my thoughts, psychology, philosophy, and visions for a better future. This metaphor captures my sense of lightness and exploration, suggesting a natural curiosity and a desire to rise above the mundane. However, I often feel that daily living—showering, dressing, preparing food, maintaining a home—interferes with my desire to escape into my imagination and explore life's deeper questions. My practitioner also mentions that a hallmark of the phosphorus constitution is a "quick-burning bright flame," indicating a tendency toward burnout, and she believes that being tethered to everyday responsibilities can serve as a grounding force. This struggle between the compelling nature of my inner world and the practicalities of life is common, especially for those of us who thrive on imaginative thinking. While daily routines can feel burdensome, they also provide a necessary balance, helping to manage the intense highs and lows that can arise from immersing myself in my imagination. Finding ways to integrate exploration into daily life—perhaps through mindful eating or infusing creativity into household tasks—could foster a connection between my practical responsibilities and imaginative pursuits. Ultimately, each framework—neurodiversity, trauma, or Heilkunst—offers valuable insights into our experiences. Exploring these interpretations can deepen self-awareness and aid in our journey toward understanding and healing, highlighting the complexity of human experience. Earlier in the week, I spoke with a friend whose child had received a diagnosis. They mentioned that other parents were experiencing stigma regarding their children’s diagnoses. To me, the idea of “normal” is outdated; yet it continues to be perpetuated through various systems, including our education and healthcare systems, cultural norms and family expectations, historical contexts, media representation, religious or spiritual contexts, social constructs of beauty and body image, digital spaces and online communities, as well as legal and policy frameworks. I find the topic of "getting to know ourselves and growing ourselves" endlessly fascinating. I often tell my children that their biggest challenge is to understand themselves well enough to articulate their struggles. For example, in class, I encourage them to say, "This is what I'm struggling with because this is how I'm wired, and this is what would really help." Defining that "this" is the real challenge. Simply stating, "I'm dyslexic," "I'm autistic," or "I have ADHD" doesn’t capture the nuances of their unique neuro-blends, as the typical symptoms and patterns associated with those labels may not fully resonate with their experiences. The challenge of defining what “this” means—identifying their specific needs and preferences—can be significant, especially when societal expectations and stereotypes around dyslexia, autism, or ADHD do not align with their lived experiences. By promoting deeper self-awareness, we equip our kids with tools to navigate their environments more effectively. This approach fosters resilience and encourages them to seek solutions that truly work for them rather than conforming to generalized expectations. I believe encouraging them to articulate their struggles and needs based on their unique wiring, rather than solely relying on labels, will prove invaluable. For me, in my 50s, this remains a learning journey, and my self-expression continues to evolve. Recognizing that every individual’s experience of neurodivergence is different emphasizes the importance of personal understanding and self-advocacy. This focus on understanding their unique neuro-blends not only helps them advocate for themselves but also empowers them to explore their strengths and challenges in a more nuanced way. By normalizing the conversation around self-knowledge, we create an environment where they feel safe to express their individuality and seek the support they truly need. It’s a beautiful way to nurture their growth and help them build confidence in who they are. In a world that often rigidly defines “normal,” we must challenge these outdated notions and embrace the emotional complexities that make each of us unique. Through the lens of neurodiversity, trauma, and personal experience, let’s explore how our individual journeys shape our understanding of ourselves and others. By examining the interplay between our emotional landscapes and the societal expectations surrounding neurodivergence, we can uncover the beauty of our unique neuro-blends. As you reflect on your own journey, consider how your emotional complexities influence your self-perception. In what ways have societal norms shaped your identity? I encourage you to take time to journal your thoughts or share your insights with someone you trust. Remember, you are not alone in this exploration—every story adds depth to our collective understanding, and each reflection brings us closer to embracing the beauty of our differences. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Normal Is Dysfunctional That Is the Growth Opportunity, How to Appreciate Our Differences Enough to Admire and Want to Embrace Them, Beyond the Whiteboard: Rethinking Education for Diverse Learners and Our Collective Future, Do You Struggle with the Daily Grind? Create a Heartfelt Calendar That Empowers You, and Our Sensitive Souls. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  Have you ever found yourself spinning on a hamster wheel, trying to juggle the demands of life? I had my week pretty planned out, with my regular commitments, self-care routine, and key appointments. I wanted to truncate everything to make way for a clear long weekend to spend quality time with my family and a close family friend we’ve been looking forward to visiting. Like most weeks, unanticipated things have come up, and I’ve dealt with them as best as I can, probably just like most people. I’ll admit I’m tired, though, and hearing Kate Northrup remind me of a few key things has really helped.
Kate is the daughter of Christiane Northrup, a pioneer in women’s health who combines her experience as a medical doctor with a focus on offering guidance that goes beyond conventional medicine. Kate is an author, entrepreneur, and speaker in her own right, focusing on financial freedom and wellness. Recently, she led a short workshop in preparation for the launch of her Heal the Way You Work course, aligning with her commitment to helping people create more ease and balance in their professional lives. Both women share a deep commitment to empowering women—something I, as a woman, deeply appreciate. I valued the reminder to think about managing my time and energy in alignment with the body’s natural cycles. This was something a friend mentioned to me about six months ago, and I hadn’t really thought about scheduling my calendar around it before, but it makes absolute sense. When I reflect on my life, I remember the habits of getting up for school and, as I grew, hitting the pool for an hour’s training before classes. As an adult, there have been decades of getting up for work, and now it’s about getting the kids up and doing school runs. None of this is cyclical, and in being diligent, a team player, and honoring commitments, I learned to “push through.” Pushing through isn’t always a bad thing. In navigating various schooling systems, I’ve come to appreciate Rudolf Steiner’s philosophy, which intertwines the development of will with the ability to take action and engage with the world, emphasizing discipline, intention, and commitment. He argued that developing willpower is essential for living purposefully, aligning with the idea of honoring commitments even when it’s challenging. This principle remains central in Waldorf education today, where fostering emotional, psychological, and physical resilience is highly valued. Just as we build physical muscles through effort, we cultivate resilience by facing challenges and embracing growth opportunities. That said, just thinking about decades of applying that kind of discipline makes me exhausted. It feels like a starter gun going off every day, propelling me onto the hamster wheel of life again. There has to be a better balance. Kate often discusses how men's hormonal cycles, which affect energy, mood, and focus, generally follow a 24-hour pattern, while women's cycles are connected to their menstrual cycles, typically lasting 25 to 35 days. As someone who often finds myself “pushing through,” the principle of honoring natural rhythms and cycles to promote productivity and well-being without burnout is particularly appealing. This is especially true as I get older and find that “pushing through” becomes harder and takes a more noticeable toll on my body. Another key point Kate Northrup emphasizes is the importance of working from a regulated nervous system. Our body's stress response is influenced by hormones like cortisol and melatonin, which are also produced by the body. These hormones follow a 24-hour cycle in both men and women, and I definitely notice both daily and monthly fluctuations—as well as seasonal changes. As much as I know that focusing on balance can prevent the burnout that arises from constantly operating in a stress-driven, cortisol-fueled state, I often forget and am carried along by the busy flow of life that seems more detached from our natural cycles than ever. Having a reminder that a calm, grounded state optimizes productivity—rather than pushing through stress and exhaustion—was timely. Incorporating this approach into my life will require some thought. As I head into a period of research and writing in the coming months, I believe I can find ways to schedule my time more effectively—allowing for creativity at certain times, structured discussions with research participants at others, and spacious moments for family and rest. But I also realize that balance is not just about managing my calendar; it's about honoring my natural rhythms and allowing space for rest and rejuvenation. How might you approach your own scheduling to align with your body's needs and create a more fulfilling life? Consider taking a moment to reflect on your current commitments: Are there areas where you can create more space for rest or creativity? Can you identify patterns in your energy levels that suggest when you're most productive? By tuning into your own rhythms, you can cultivate a schedule that not only honors your commitments but also nurtures your well-being. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy A Step Too Far: Finding Balance in a Busy Life, Parenting in Pieces: Embracing Balance in Split Living, The Power of Release - Making Space for What Matters and Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  Have you ever found yourself tempted by the latest miracle product, only to realise there's no shortcut to real change? This morning, I was reading some advertising and reviews for teenage acne treatments, and it struck me how often the promise of instant results sells—yet rarely are there silver bullets for life’s challenges. Real, lasting change usually requires a blend of common sense, a holistic approach, and perseverance.
The same holds true for the patterns of unhelpful beliefs and behaviors that shape our actions. This week, I’ve been reflecting on the insights I’ve gained over the past decade of personal growth and the lessons learned through my writing. I want to summarise what it truly takes to create lasting change and live our best lives. Control Strategies and Patterns of Behavior Each of us enters the world entirely dependent on others for survival, and with generations of parenting focused on controlling behavior, it's no surprise we adopt patterns where we think we either have to seize our sovereignty or wait to be given it. Both ideas revolve around power and control, themes explored by James Redfield in The Celestine Prophecy. He describes control strategies we develop to prevent others from draining our energy. These strategies, spanning a spectrum from aggressive to passive, are embodied by four archetypes. It’s often easiest to start by reflecting on the strategies your parents employed:
Personal Growth and Self-Awareness Awareness alone isn’t enough. As I dug deeper into understanding myself, I explored a dizzying range of models designed to categorize human behavior. It started with Florence Littauer’s Personality Plus, which simplifies personalities into four temperaments. From there, I dove into frameworks like William Marston's DISC model, commonly used in corporate team-building, and Robert Kiyosaki’s take on financial attitudes, which helped me rethink my approach to wealth and abundance. I even examined gender differences through the work of John Grey and Allan Pease. More complex models, like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), rooted in Carl Jung’s theories, and Blanchard’s Situational Leadership Model, added further layers of insight into how I lead and respond to different situations. These assessments offered a patchwork of lenses through which I could view myself and others. But with each new test or workshop, I found myself asking: to what end? How useful is it to categorize and analyze endlessly, when the reality is that who we are can shift from one situation to another? We might be assertive at work but submissive at home; we might set healthy boundaries in friendships but struggle in romantic relationships or professional settings. Although my career progressed, certain patterns continued to repeat themselves—in relationships, at work, and even within myself. I started to notice the people I kept attracting, the circumstances that seemed to play out over and over, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lesson buried in those recurring themes. It was only when I began to examine those patterns more closely that I realized they often had their roots in early key relationships—whether it was the parent whose love and acceptance I longed for most, or the sibling whose approval I so desperately desired. But what took me the longest to understand was this: it wasn’t what happened in my childhood that truly mattered, but rather what my mind and body interpreted those events to mean. This realization brought me back to the idea of control strategies. Recognizing these strategies in myself and others—whether it was withdrawing when overwhelmed, intimidating others to feel in control, or playing the victim to solicit care—was a pivotal step in my growth. But simply recognizing them wasn’t enough. I needed to dig deeper to understand how these learned behaviors were limiting me, and how I could break free from them. What I came to understand is that awareness is only the beginning. Knowing why we behave a certain way is important, but it’s only a surface-level step. The real work lies in embodying that awareness and learning how to shift the deep-seated behaviors and beliefs that run through our minds and bodies day in and day out. This is where I had to uncover the beliefs that were guiding me unconsciously. Around 2015, I came across Dr. Joe Dispenza's work, which highlighted that a large portion of our daily thoughts—around 60,000 to 70,000 per day—are repetitive. It was eye-opening to learn that as much as 90% of these thoughts are the same as the day before, reinforcing the same behaviors, emotional responses, and mental habits. When these repeated thoughts are negative or limiting, they become the foundation of our self-beliefs. And, as Dispenza notes, beliefs are nothing more than repeated thoughts ingrained into our psyche. Breaking this cycle of self-limiting thoughts is the key to real transformation. But while there are many ways to approach this internal work, it all starts with a foundation of self-awareness. We can’t change what we aren’t aware of, and mindfulness becomes an essential tool for noticing the thoughts, beliefs, and patterns playing out within us. Of course, mindfulness is a practice in itself—a topic that deserves its own focus—but for me, this was the starting point. Once I began to recognize the recurring self-limiting thoughts, the next challenge was learning what to do with them. Changing these ingrained patterns meant rewiring my brain—literally, creating new neural pathways and shifting muscle memories that had been conditioned over years. Transformational Frameworks This is where the Four Stages of Competence (also known as the Conscious Competence Learning Model), developed by Noel Burch in the 1970s, helped me better understand the process of internal transformation. It outlines the journey from being unaware of a problem to mastering a skill until it becomes automatic:
This model beautifully explains the progression from insight to true mastery. However, when it comes to breaking self-limiting beliefs and shifting long-held patterns, we’re not just dealing with skills—we’re confronting deeply embedded identities. As I started identifying my limiting thoughts and beliefs, I realized that despite my best efforts, certain patterns seemed to persist. The more I tried to fix them, the more they appeared in different forms—whether in relationships, work, or parenting. It felt frustrating, like I was circling the same challenges again and again. But I came to realize that this wasn’t stagnation; I was in what I now think of as an upward spiral of growth. Each time I faced a familiar situation, I wasn’t in the same place. I had gained new tools, insights, and perspectives that helped me approach these patterns differently. One of my favorite frameworks for this work is Claire Zammit and Katherine Woodward Thomas’ Transformation of Identity Matrix, which goes beyond skill acquisition to explore how we evolve our very sense of self. While I’ve engaged deeply with both feminine empowerment expert Claire Zammit’s work through Evolving Wisdom, and with relationship expert Katherine Woodward Thomas’s Conscious Uncoupling process, what really helped me grasp the whole process of transformation was a 73-page document they put together. It outlines the core framework for addressing negative beliefs that continue to create the same patterns in our lives, even when we’re trying to change. Navigating Limiting Beliefs The document identifies 21 core negative beliefs. One example that resonated with me is "I’m not worthy of love or success." This belief can manifest in various ways, such as self-doubt about my parenting or writing, and it tends to show itself in behaviors like:
Each of these actions is a direct reflection of that limiting belief. This is the power of identifying them: once you realize that a belief like "I’m not worthy" is lurking beneath the surface, shaping how you act and feel, you can start to change it. Examples of Limiting Beliefs However, the process isn’t straightforward. Sometimes, it’s not just one core belief you’re dealing with. For instance, alongside “I’m not worthy,” I might also experience beliefs like:
The document offers an organized guide linking each belief to behaviors and thoughts, helping us see how deeply these negative beliefs impact our lives. For example, the belief "I must please others" might tie into deeper feelings of "I’m not enough" or "I’m a burden." Similarly, the belief "I can’t trust myself" might connect to feelings of inferiority or the idea that "I’m wrong." The Transformation of Identity Matrix These insights aren’t just about feeling down or doubting ourselves. They give us a pathway to growth, identifying areas where we can challenge these core beliefs and replace them with empowering ones. We don’t have to be stuck with these negative beliefs! Let’s explore how the Transformation of Identity Matrix works, using the belief "I’m not good enough":
Recognizing how we might reinforce our negative beliefs by acting in ways that confirm them can be revealing. If you believe "I’m not good enough," you might withdraw socially or shy away from opportunities, causing others to see you as less confident. This reinforces the original belief, creating a vicious cycle. But recognizing this loop gives you the power to break it. Breaking the Cycle of Negative Beliefs Stages 3 (acting based on beliefs) and 4 (believing something new) are significant undertakings. Changing deeply ingrained beliefs is a layered process that can take years. Stage 3 involves becoming more self-aware—tracking behaviors, reflecting on how our beliefs shape our actions, perhaps through mindfulness, journaling, or therapy. Stage 4, changing those core beliefs, often requires deeper work, whether through consistent self-practice, therapy, or external support. It’s not just about thinking differently; it’s about rewiring those neural pathways and creating lasting internal change. Finally, there’s Step 5—validation from others. When people begin to respond positively to your new behavior—seeing you as more confident, engaged, or open—it serves as external confirmation of the transformation happening inside. This feedback can be a powerful motivator, reinforcing the new belief and encouraging further growth. The Path to Empowerment and Change For me, one of my deepest patterns revolved around the desire to help and please others. If someone was behaving poorly, I’d often seek to understand what pain might be driving their behavior and end up excusing too much of it. In close relationships, I would see someone’s potential and want to help them realize it, believing I could ‘fix’ their problems. The problem with this approach is twofold. First, it assumes that the other person is aware of their limiting beliefs and behaviors, and that they want to change. Often, they don’t, and who wants uninvited help anyway? It’s like saying, "You’re not good enough as you are." Second, I’ve learned that this journey of change has to be self-motivated. It’s not my job to help someone who hasn’t asked for it. More importantly, I don’t need to tolerate poor behavior just because I understand where it’s coming from. Ultimately, the changes I was trying to make in others were changes I needed to make within myself. Because, in the end, the only behavior I can change is my own. Conclusion For years, I longed for a 'silver bullet'—a quick fix to shed the burden of self-limiting beliefs. But after much work, I now see that true transformation is not something that happens overnight. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution that can erase years of ingrained behaviors or heal the wounds that led to them. Change is more like an upward spiral, where we revisit the same issues from different angles, gradually healing and evolving. Take people-pleasing as an example. It’s not a behavior you can just decide to stop. It's woven into the fabric of your neural wiring, reinforced by years of belief in the need to seek validation. Every time you encounter a situation that triggers that behavior, it’s an opportunity to heal a different aspect of it. Over time, you start to notice the subtle ways it shows up and how it holds you back. The beauty of the upward spiral is that while it may seem like you're facing the same challenges, you're actually moving through layers of growth, becoming more self-aware and capable of responding differently each time. For all the years we’ve spent reinforcing negative core beliefs, there’s no instant fix to undo them. Becoming someone unencumbered by old conditioning takes time. It’s a process that requires dedication and repeated focus. But each cycle in the spiral brings us closer to becoming the person we’re meant to be—someone free of the patterns that once kept us stuck. The upward spiral teaches us that healing is an ongoing journey. Each time we revisit an old belief or behavior, we do so from a place of greater strength and awareness. So, if you find yourself facing familiar challenges, don’t see it as circling the drain—recognize it as another opportunity to grow. The goal isn't to find a silver bullet, but to continue evolving, one layer at a time. Embracing this journey of transformation is not only about breaking free from limiting beliefs, but also about discovering the potential within us to redefine our lives and relationships. As you reflect on your own journey, what experiences have you had with recurring challenges, and how have you embraced growth through them? What insights have you gained from revisiting old beliefs, and how has your understanding of transformation evolved over time? Your experiences can inspire and support others who are navigating similar paths. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Are You Willing to Take Your Sovereignty While Allowing Other People Theirs?, Embrace Your Authentic Self, Shed the Toxic People in Your Life, Why Feeling Good Is the Key to Your Success and Transcending Trauma: How to Heal Past Pain and Empower Future Generations. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  This week of school holidays allowed me to slow down, relax, and reconnect with my children in a more carefree, unstructured way. Compared to the busy, often restrictive feelings of term time, it’s been bliss. By setting aside work and focusing on the present moment, I found that the less I planned, the more things started to flow.
Of course, we still had some plans—dental appointments, haircuts, and other necessary activities. But the simple decision not to work and be fully present for those moments, as well as the downtime in between, was liberating. We had some great talks about life, school, and future plans, along with some nice trips and socializing. Even the more arduous tasks of clearing out clothes and listing old toys for sale deepened my bond with the kids, and I found myself more refreshed than usual. What struck me even more, though, was the unexpected side effect of this presence. While the week was centered around enjoying time with my kids, I noticed something else happening. Without the pressure of work, I found myself reflecting more deeply on the books I’ve been working on. My partner asked why I chose those topics, and, along with a timely request from a publisher for more details, this seemed to unlock new insights in the condensed time I had available. This reminded me of something I’ve always known: when we let go of rigid expectations, inspiration flows naturally. Focusing on being present with my children seemed to open space in my mind, allowing connections between my ideas to surface without force. My partner's question and the publisher's email sparked momentum in my projects, showing me that sometimes, the best progress happens when we’re not actively trying. It brings to mind a powerful lesson I learned during the birth of my second child. I had endured a painful first labour, full of resistance, tension, and an overwhelming urge to control the process. But during the second, with the guidance of a midwife, I learned to release that resistance, to breathe and move in flow with the contractions rather than fighting them. It was in this space of surrender that I discovered the art of allowing—a lesson that extends far beyond childbirth into all aspects of life. Much like I had been advised to "forget about it, and it will happen" when trying to conceive, the same applies to the creative process. It was only when I stopped forcing and started trusting in my body, in the natural flow of events, that the birth unfolded in a more harmonious way. And so it is with our everyday goals and dreams. When we release our need to control the outcome and let life flow, things start to fall into place in ways we couldn't have planned. The absence of pressure allowed creativity and clarity to arise, which speaks to:
This week reminded me of the value of slowing down, savoring the moment, and simply enjoying life. By leaning into the flow, I found clarity, energy, and progress in ways that felt natural rather than forced. Whether it’s labour or creative work, when we stop pushing and start allowing, the results often exceed our expectations. Talking of which, I must get back to helping the kids list their toys for sale. They've spent the previous two holidays sorting through and grouping things for this moment—a kind of rite of passage as they let go of what no longer serves them, making space for the things they enjoy now. Hopefully, they'll earn a little money to fund their new interests. As I reflect on this process, it’s a reminder that letting go is part of life's flow. Where in your life might you benefit from letting go in order to allow more flow? Whether it's loosening the grip on plans, expectations, or even possessions, sometimes surrendering control creates the space for something even better to unfold. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Be Fluid – How to Go with Your Own Flow, Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life, From Exhaustion to Empowerment: Healing the Negative Associations of Giving, and When Life Throws Curveballs... Embrace the Twists and Turns of Parenthood with Confidence. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  “Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.” — Pema Chödrön
I was reading "The Gates: The Great Untold Prerequisite to Getting What You Want," one of Teal Swan's most recent articles, where she introduces the concept of gates as the personal transformation tied to embracing our hardest truths. She emphasises that to achieve our deepest desires, we must confront the challenges we've been avoiding. This resonates with my own journey, as I’ve long understood that the only one who can rescue me is myself. Teal talks about how our personal growth is intrinsically linked to facing these challenges; each gate requires us to confront aspects of ourselves we’ve ignored or fled from. In my own experience, I recognize that the path to healing isn't linear; it’s filled with experiences I’ve often tried to sidestep. A current example of my ongoing conundrum lies in the intersection of parenting and earning income. The desire for financial security has been something I've carried with me since childhood, rooted in my experiences and the lessons I learned growing up. In recent years, I've been living in rental accommodation, and that along with my increasing age has made me acutely aware of the need to increase my income if I want to afford to get back on the property ladder. This financial reality has left me wrestling with my next career steps. On one hand, I feel a strong pull toward my passion for writing—sharing my insights, experiences, and lessons learned. On the other hand, the pressures of financial stability often overshadow that desire, creating a tension between pursuing what fulfills me and meeting practical needs. This internal struggle mirrors the “gates” we’ve discussed; each obstacle becomes a chance to reflect on how I can harmonize my financial aspirations with my passion for writing. I often find myself contemplating how to navigate this path, balancing the need for security with the urge to express my authentic self through my writing. It’s a challenge that requires me to face my fears about financial instability while also embracing the potential that comes from following my heart. As I reflect on this, I can see that each challenge shows up like a “gate” I have to pass through to show up authentically, even when it’s uncomfortable. Viewing these obstacles as opportunities for growth connects deeply with my reflections on personal development, guiding how I interact with my daughters and the people all around me. Moreover, her metaphor aligns beautifully with my writing journey; each blog has documented the lessons learned through personal struggles—be it co-parenting, grief, or emotional resilience. Writing not only helps me stay accountable to this process but also marks each gate I pass through as a pivotal moment in my evolution. This week, as I reflect on the profound milestone of publishing what is my 500th blog, I realize that what began as a quest to find my voice has transformed into a conscious journey toward a more authentic version of myself. Each blog has served as an invitation to evolve, offering insights into everything from navigating challenging emails to processing the deep grief of losing a loved one. From my first blog, Be Who You Are, I explored the theme of authenticity as a process of peeling back layers of external expectations to reveal one’s true self. My ongoing reflections have illuminated how life’s challenges act as mirrors, encouraging me to confront and shed societal conditioning. Through this journey, I’ve delved into relationships as vital mirrors, examining both the dysfunctional dynamics I've encountered and those I’ve sought to transform. In the early years of my writing, I focused on self-awareness and authenticity, diving into how our experiences shape us. These early blogs embraced curiosity and philosophical questions about identity and mindfulness, often conveyed in a lighter tone. However, the passing of my mum introduced deep reflections on mortality and the grieving process, perhaps leading to more depth in my writing as I navigated my grief and developed more emotional resilience. As my journey progressed, I began to confront my shadow self and the impact of unresolved childhood wounds. This exploration of trauma and self-acceptance perhaps added a vulnerability to my writing. I gained a deeper understanding of personal trauma, illuminating dysfunctional relationship patterns, and moving from abstract concepts to intimate, lived experiences. My writing grew more practical, offering strategies for healing and empowerment as I reflected on the importance of boundary-setting and emotional regulation. More recently, I’ve shifted my focus to reflections on personal mission and fulfillment. This stage feels like a blossoming, and tends to be grounded in action and manifesting a purposeful life. Throughout the whole journey so far, parenting has remained a consistent theme, weaving through all my writing. The dynamics of childhood trauma, grief, and personal purpose have shaped my experiences as a mother, as has motherhood itself. In this evolving landscape, my understanding of my children’s needs and the importance of setting boundaries has deepened. I’ve candidly reflected on the emotional complexities of co-parenting and the role of self-compassion in navigating separation. Additionally, I shared my journey with panic disorder, illustrating how personal health has influenced my evolving understanding of healthcare and the broader dialogue around holistic systems. While my writing has consistently reflected themes of mindfulness, personal growth, and emotional awareness - laying the groundwork for deeper explorations of authenticity - I’ve also dived into broader societal concepts. As I look back over the years, from my early blog "Better Brand and Bottom Line" to "CEO’s Note: Profit, Purpose and Personal Fulfillment Can Thrive Together," my work has always sought to inspire, challenge, and connect. And my 2018 article "What to Do if You Feel Trapped By Your Circumstances" resonated so deeply I was inundated with requests for advice on practical steps toward reclaiming one’s power. In exploring my connection to metaphysics and intuition, I found parallels in my broader work on authenticity, trauma, and personal growth. As I write this 500th blog, I am reflecting on childhood conditioning in pieces like "Who Are You Protecting? Why Telling Your Story Is Powerful," and "Womanhood: A Story of Our Time," which were among my most vulnerable so far, revealing the intricate layers of pain, shame, and hope - culminating in a powerful narrative of reclaiming beauty and embracing our full selves for future generations. As I celebrate this milestone, I invite you to reflect on your own journey and the everyday invitations life offers for growth, understanding, and connection. Consider the challenges you've faced and how they have shaped you. What are the "gates" in your life that have urged or are urging you to confront difficult truths? How might viewing these obstacles as opportunities for evolution shift your perspective? By embracing these moments, we not only honor our personal journeys but also connect with the shared experiences that unite us all. Join me in celebrating our growth and resilience, as we continue to navigate the intricate dance of life together. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Your Childhood Is Not Your Fault but It Will Be Your Limitation, Making Room to Reflect – Why Processing Time Matters, The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses and Do We Need to Better Understand the Pivotal Role of Parenting to Evolve? To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  In Sophie Green’s novel The Bellbird River Country Choir, Debbie loses custody of her children while serving time for embezzlement. Upon release, she watches their stepmother, Julia, with them and reflects:
“Debbie had wondered how Julia could be this generous, and so helpful, then she remembered that Julia actually gets to be the kids' mum for real and Debbie is still a visitor in their lives. Granted, Julia gets the drudgery of school lunches and homework and fights over TV shows. But she also gets the funny little highlights that come with each day. A sentence here, a gesture there; the ways your children fill up your life with memories.” Though Debbie's situation is unique, I relate to her longing for time with her children. Whether through split living, children leaving home, or other circumstances, a cycle of grief often accompanies their absence. Personally, I experience this every time my kids leave and return from their other home. It's difficult to reconcile not raising my children full-time, but there is a silver lining in having more time to explore my own path. Still, balancing this freedom with the ever-present responsibilities of parenthood can be tricky. Even when they’re away, I remain in "parent mode." Maintaining strong boundaries—both with my children and in co-parenting—has become increasingly important. Healthy boundaries are essential not just for my emotional well-being but for theirs as well. It’s about recognizing my emotional limits and taking steps to protect my peace. I now see boundaries not as walls, but as acts of self-compassion and clarity in my relationships. When I’m clearer about my needs and communicate those limits, it helps reduce potential emotional turmoil and misunderstandings. A piece of advice that soothed my heart was this: “It's natural to grieve the time you lose with your children, especially when you've been their constant support. The deep connection from raising them is irreplaceable. Reframing these emotions can help, but it doesn't erase the pain of missing moments. Instead, acknowledge the fullness of what you've given them—the unique foundation you've built will always shape who they become, even when they spend time elsewhere.” As I continue navigating a split-living situation, this perspective reminds me that, while time apart can feel like a loss, the bond remains intact, woven through every interaction. Reflecting on these emotions, I often find that books I read offer new ways to process what I’m going through. This week, I finally finished The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight by James Redfield, a year after I first picked it up. Building on The Celestine Prophecy, it offers practical ways to develop emotional well-being, self-compassion, and bodily awareness—particularly through the concept of "prayer extensions." A prayer extension involves focusing our thoughts and feelings to create positive intentions for ourselves and others. By visualising what we want, practicing gratitude and compassion, and grounding ourselves through body awareness, we align our energy with our desires. This not only supports our well-being but also helps us show up more fully for those around us. While prayer extensions bear some resemblance to ideas like the Law of Attraction—both focus on harnessing positive energy to shape reality—James Redfield places more emphasis on collective intention and spiritual evolution, which is right up my alley. In Shambhala, he presents a holistic approach where thought, feeling, heart, and body work together, expanding on the separate insights introduced in The Celestine Prophecy. This integrated approach feels like a deeper, more connected way of living and engaging with the world. Here’s how I can incorporate prayer extensions into daily life:
While the four prayer extensions focus on cultivating peace, clarity, and compassion, I’ve come to realise that maintaining healthy boundaries is essential to truly embodying these states. Boundaries don’t contradict the peace I seek—they are a vital part of it. Setting clear emotional limits protects my well-being, allowing me to show up with more presence and compassion for myself and others. For example, the Thought Extension encourages me to focus on what I truly desire, which includes the emotional space I need to thrive. The Feeling Extension reminds me that gratitude and joy are best nurtured when I feel emotionally safe, which strong boundaries help create. The Heart Extension centers on self-compassion, and part of that compassion is knowing when to protect my energy. Finally, the Body Extension teaches me to ground myself in the present moment, and boundaries help me stay rooted in peace rather than caught up in emotional turbulence. By integrating boundaries with these practices, I create a more balanced and peaceful foundation in my relationships—especially when co-parenting or navigating my time with the children Navigating life’s emotional complexities can feel like a delicate balancing act, especially when grappling with the challenge of finding peace while feeling torn between different areas of life. Whether it’s through split living, changing family dynamics, or other transitions, many of us face moments that challenge our sense of peace and connection. In these times, pausing to reflect on the tools we have at our disposal can be incredibly helpful. For me, exploring concepts like the prayer extensions from James Redfield’s work has provided a pathway to reconnecting with my inner self. By focusing on my desires, cultivating gratitude, and practicing self-compassion, I feel better equipped to navigate emotional turbulence. However, everyone’s journey is unique. As you reflect on your own experiences, consider how you can appreciate the small joys in life, recognising that each moment allows us to be fully present, no matter where we are. How might you reconnect with the present to find balance amid the pull of conflicting responsibilities? If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy A Step Too Far: Finding Balance in a Busy Life, Your Childhood Is Not Your Fault but It Will Be Your Limitation, The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses and Do We Need to Better Understand the Pivotal Role of Parenting to Evolve? To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  When I read Soraya Lane’s visceral description of the ongoing rape of an inmate at Auschwitz by a guard, I was particularly struck by the character’s reactions to the sounds and sensations—the guard’s approach, the smell of his breath, and her struggle to control her own responses, including the mindful and slow eating of the meager rations he’d bring her for “afterwards,” all while facing the overpowering urge to wolf down whatever was put in front of her in the midst of starvation. These sensitivities resonate deeply with my own reactions to certain sounds, like chewing, which trigger intense anxiety and disgust, even though I’ve never experienced abuse of that sort. Misophonia is a condition characterized by strong emotional responses to specific sounds, such as anger, anxiety, or disgust. Everyday noises like chewing, breathing, or tapping can become overwhelming and unbearable for those affected. It’s not merely a dislike; it’s an involuntary, powerful reaction that impacts mood and behavior. Although I try to manage my reactions, these intense feelings sometimes slip out as sarcastic comments or misplaced frustration. The internal voice behind these responses often echoes my mum’s strong disdain and criticisms, highlighting how much I’ve internalised her perspective. There are various theories about the causes of misophonia, and for years, I’ve wondered whether my condition arises from my high sensory sensitivity and empathic nature, or if it’s a form of secondary trauma—or perhaps a combination of both. My mum had a deep aversion to anything she considered uncouth or improper. She was often quick to express her disapproval of burping, swearing, sniffing, or poor hygiene. Public displays like spitting or men scratching themselves filled her with anger, and even casual references to sex would elicit stern looks and sharp comments. I sometimes wonder if her strong reactions stemmed from more direct trauma or if they reflect a pattern that has emerged from our family history. The most obvious source is my grandfather, her father, who died when she was a child. He was an abusive alcoholic and died of lung cancer. Many people don’t feel the need to dig into their past, finding enough explanation in their upbringing, but for me, it feels like there’s more to it—especially when it comes to the intensity of my misophonia. Learning about inherited trauma has helped me make sense of things that don’t seem to be explained by my personal experiences alone. For many generations, trauma has been something to be buried or suppressed, with emotional struggles viewed as signs of weakness. Resilience was seen as stoicism, and confronting trauma was thought to worsen the pain. This mentality is still prevalent today, although through modern psychology and figures like Edith Eger and Bessel van der Kolk, we now understand that processing trauma is essential for healing. Trauma, when unaddressed, lingers in both mind and body, affecting not only the individual but future generations. My grandfather's abusive behavior could have affected me through inherited stress responses, potentially explaining my predisposition to anxiety, hypervigilance, or difficulty regulating emotions. It may also influence how I form relationships, trust others, and cope with challenges – in ways that are advantageous or disadvantageous. On a physical level, trauma passed through generations can lead to chronic stress, which is linked to health problems. In essence, his behavior might have shaped not just our family dynamics but also my emotional and physical health today. This can manifest in ways we now understand scientifically, such as:
The idea that trauma can be passed through generations emerged from a range of scientific fields, with key contributors like Rachel Yehuda, Dr. Bruce McEwen, and Bessel van der Kolk showing how trauma can be inherited and linger in the body and mind. In The Choice, a biographical account of her time in Auschwitz and the life she has led in the years since, Dr. Edith Eger reflects on her long-held belief that avoiding trauma was the path to healing, only to realize that true liberation comes from confronting it. She explains how burying the trauma led to deep emotional pain and anxiety, and it wasn’t until she began processing her experiences that she found freedom. Her words, “To heal is to take a risk—to step into the unknown and embrace change,” resonate deeply. Throughout my life, I’ve sought various ways to confront and heal these deeply rooted patterns. Thought leaders and therapists who understand intergenerational trauma, such as Dr. Gabor Maté, Teal Swan, and Evette Rose, have played a crucial role in helping me uncover the connections between my emotional triggers and past family dynamics. They have also given me tools to manage my reactions and make sense of feelings that once seemed overwhelming or disconnected from my direct experiences. Holistic and somatic approaches like meditation, hypnosis, Heilkunst, chiropractic care, and energy healing have helped me reconnect with my body, reminding me that trauma isn’t just stored in the mind but can reside in the physical body as well. Practices like journaling, meditation, and spending time in nature have been essential in creating space for introspection, while also offering a release from the constant noise in my head. Even though I’ve made real progress, I can feel that there are still deeper layers to explore, and that’s completely okay. Healing these deep-seated patterns takes time and a mix of different approaches, especially when they’re connected to family dynamics and inherited trauma. I’ve learned that this journey isn’t a straight path or something that happens quickly; it unfolds in cycles and stages as I gradually peel back layers of old pain and gently bring them to light. When we confront our trauma and untangle those inherited patterns, we not only improve our own lives but also set a better example for future generations. By breaking the cycle of pain, we build resilience, nurture healthier relationships, and leave behind a more hopeful legacy for our children and their children. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Clear the Fog of Trauma to See the Magnificence of Your Being, Shed the Layers of Pretence - What Does it Truly Mean to Be You?, The Soul’s Yearning – How to Recognise Your Inner Work and Are You Overly Responsible? Actually Seeing Yourself Through Fresh Eyes. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  One of my kids was doing an assignment this week that had really caused them a lot of angst. When there is a neurodivergence at play, it can sometimes be hard to figure out whether that is the core issue or whether it’s just lack of interest, a learning style or personality trait. Honestly though, when it comes down to it, I’m not sure there’s much difference.
A lot of what we call neurodivergence points to the divergence between the outdated curriculums and way things are taught, and the variety of brain wiring that makes up a unique individual. For my kids, and for myself, I’m more interested in exploring our uniqueness than wholly identifying with labels that limit us in some way. Of course labels are sometimes useful to help us understand ourselves and others, and to help them understand us. Tasked with writing a paragraph on the difference between Parliament and Government, my child’s anxiety caused a freeze response and they wrote nothing. After watching the provided videos and reviewing the assignment, my own brain struggled to retain the details of the governmental structure. I understood it in the moment but my brain decided "well we don't need to retain those details" (which is very typical of how my brain functions, remembering principles and patterns over details) so I couldn't have explained it any more than them, even seconds afterwards—particularly when the subject feels detached from practical significance. To help them re-engage with the topic, I guided them through a political spectrum quiz, which brought real-life relevance to abstract concepts like government policy. That was an eye opener, they could see how each question could be more than a full lesson on its own, considering social issues like same sex marriage and economic issues like crypto currency and so forth. So a more engaging question for them would be something like whether the structure of government is designed to navigate these issues most effectively and just what the balance is and should be between government intervention and personal freedom. Something else we discussed this week, which was also about understanding ourselves, was how one of my children’s friends doesn’t like to see them “copying” others. This is another interesting concept, where many believe it’s lame to copy. Quite aside of “imitation being the sincerest form of flattery” isn’t it fair to say that copying is about seeing something in/on others and thinking “oh that is a bit of me”. What if life is like a big smorgasbord where the things we admire and detest in others are actually aspects of our self? Annette Noontil says “we see in others what we have in ourselves”. These days there are so many ways to see and understand ourselves, it can be overwhelming. I stopped trying to label myself when, sitting with a Myres Briggs coach in my thirties, we deliberated over my responses to the questionnaire and saw multiple options. There are so many parts of me, like Taylor Swift’s Mirrorball my young teen likes to sing, that I just appreciate seeing different parts reflected back to me more clearly in the process of life. Recently I gained a new insight when someone close to me, who frequently uses a tool from Blanchard that aligns closely with the Four Elements personality model, commented that when they first met me they thought I was more of a Water personality, but now they know me a bit better they think I’m more of an Air type. I think models like this are useful in identifying the ways we can relate to people and their different motivations. I hadn’t looked at this model for a while, so as a reminder here’s a breakdown of all four elements:
Each element represents a different set of traits and tendencies, and people often have a dominant element that influences their personality, though they may also exhibit traits from the other elements to varying degrees. I see myself in Air, Water and Earth, less-so Fire, but I do understand where my friend was coming from as Air types tend to be thinkers and communicators, concerned with big-picture ideas and innovative thinking. In career terms I’ve always been more drawn to this, perhaps in relationships I approach with more of a Water element, and in every area of life I’m generally very organized and down to Earth. But when I heard Frederic Laloux describe his natural inclination to address problems on a systemic level, I could immediately see myself and my own career reflected in his words. He’s drawn to understanding and solving large-scale issues rather than focusing solely on individual cases. This approach is fundamental to systemic thinking, which involves analyzing and addressing the underlying structures and interconnections that contribute to complex problems. All the time I’ve spent pondering my purpose in terms of career path, and really the answer is so obvious, so Air, so me. This is why Fredric’s work resonated so deeply with my ten years ago, because I had gone into organisations and worked in change and transformation, and had always looked to solve issues on a systemic level. When I started running a complaints’ department in the UK railways nearly quarter a century ago, I met up with others doing the same things in different organisations, and formed a best practice forum that met regularly, which became really useful when we invested in a new system to drill down into root cause issues. Not only did I get a new management system out of that project, but a lifelong friend in one of my collaborators and lifelong interest in transformation. My focus on improvements and collaboration were at the heart of several awards that came my way, and that led to other opportunities on some more strategic projects and committees, as well earning me a mentor who I still look up to today. Then I moved not just countries but continents and started all over again in building networks and collaborations and focusing in transformation in different sectors, though always from a human perspective first and foremost. Then I had kids, and that Mirrorball of life made me take a good hard look at which aspects are really authentically me and which are more aspects of me that were developed in reaction to a need to survive in certain situations where I didn’t feel I could just be authentically me. I wanted to shake out those parts of me that were no longer serving me, the unhelpful thought patterns and behaviours that were holding me back from my full expression and potential. While parenting, I took a deep dive into the study of trauma, while walking my own path back to me. And it left me wondering, what’s next? Inspired by Sarah Durham Wilson’s work, I resonated with advice like surrounding myself with supportive, like-minded people and seeking out communities, organizations, or initiatives focused on conscious evolution and authentic living. And, as I said in The Path to Purpose and Clarity: How Healing Transforms Your Career Goals, more than any other is was four questions that finally unlocked what had been there all along, questions I’ll pose these at the end of this musing. And now I’m on a path of starting research for a series of books on reimagining healthcare, education and ourselves. These systemic changes are closest to my heart, but as I heard Frederic talk about our agricultural system, political systems, finance systems, justice systems and production and consumption systems, I know there is so much opportunity out there for the artists of the world to paint a new vision of our future. And I realise that this is my place, among the artists. If I can’t even retain detail of how the political system in the country I live works, I’m not the detail person; I’m definitely the person thinking about systemic change, the visionary, the Air type. We need all people, all gifts, all talents, all traits. We were each born with a unique cocktail of them, and we came here to use them in a unique way, so as I look at the faces of the teens arriving at school every day when I drop off my eldest, I can’t help feel motivated by the uninspired, disengaged look on their faces. I have to lead by example and do what I came to do, to be me, and to contribute to the world in a way that is uniquely me. And that is what I want for my own kids, and for you, and for your kids. In the end, our journey through understanding ourselves and navigating the challenges life presents is a deeply personal and transformative one. Just as I’ve explored the nuances of neurodivergence, learning styles, and personality traits, and found clarity in my own path, I encourage you to reflect on your unique experiences and strengths. Ask yourself:
These questions can serve as a compass, guiding us towards what resonates most deeply with us. Remember, there is no single path to fulfillment. Our journey is as unique as our fingerprint. Whether we are a detail-oriented Earth type, an empathetic Water type, an innovative Air type, or a passionate Fire type, each of these traits has a place and purpose in our world. As you move forward, keep in mind that every small step towards understanding and expressing your true self is a step towards a more meaningful and impactful life. Your journey is important, and your contribution matters. Let your own Mirrorball of experiences, passions, and insights guide you to create a future that reflects your most authentic self. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Shed the Layers of Pretence - What Does it Truly Mean to Be You?, How to Switch Between Your Life Roles With Grace and Ease, Focus Your Attention and Conquer Mental Spirals - Resolve to Learn from Its Path. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  For the first time in a while I had a couple of days this week where I didn’t have a lot of commitments, and so I had decided to meet up with a friend for a nice lunch and walk.
Of course we hadn’t seen each other in a while so we were busy catching up with each other about the latest things going on in our lives, while enjoying some yummy food and then taking a walk around the base of Mount Manganui, which looks directly out to sea. It’s a beautiful spot, and I was busy simultaneously enjoying it and getting engrossed in conversation. So engrossed that I didn’t notice the gully on my right where the storm water naturally drains away, so my right foot went in there while the left side of my body kept moving forward, coming down on my knee and hand hard. It was one of those moments where time seemed to slow, the fall itself indelibly etched in my mind’s eye. I recall thinking “oh crap, this is going to be bad and I can’t stop it” while watching my body fall forward and the various parts inevitably slamming against the ground. My next thought was not to move too quickly, just to let the shock wave pass through and then assess the damage. Luckily everything was still moving and there were no sharp, searing pains anywhere, just some bad bruising and grazes. Slowly I stood up to walk and realised quite quickly that lying on a nearby bench was probably the best move as the world started swimming around me and nausea rose up. Lying there on the bench, I was reflecting with my friend the irony of our conversation only minutes earlier. She had been reflecting on a conversation with her child, where her child had divulged that she never shows her true feelings to her friends. I could resonate with that, as I tend not to display vulnerability. In fact it’s my growth edge at the moment. At the heart of it is self-protection, over the course of my life I developed mechanisms, such as judgment and perfectionism, to guard myself from feeling vulnerable, being hurt, or losing control. There’s also an internal battle going on between the part of me that is hypervigilant and defensive (protecting me from harm) and the part that is expansive, allowing, and creative. I know that opening up, being more vulnerable and compassionate, and embracing empathy will lead to a more harmonious relationships, but my inner critic and sentry is still in full force, driven by past patterns and fear of those repeating. There’s no doubt that the fall was a wake up call to take the time to calm my nervous system. I had gotten into hyper mode lately, trying to sort out support for my kids’ needs at school and emotionally, while also trying to prepare for and navigate some formal negotiations, alongside the usual running of a household, evening school commitments and holding space for my next career moves. I just need to slow it all down a bit. While the part of me that is on high alert and hypervigilant serves a real purpose— protecting us from perceived threats or harm, it’s a natural defense mechanism designed to keep us safe – in my case it’s on overdrive, causing unnecessary stress, anxiety, and strain in situations where such intense vigilance is not needed. For more harmonious and fulfilling relationships, there’s a need to gradually integrate this protective mechanism with a softer, more compassionate, and accepting part of me. This experience reminded me how easy it is to get swept up in the busyness of life, overextending ourselves and losing sight of the need to care for our well-being. We often fall into patterns of hypervigilance, constantly striving to protect ourselves from harm or control every aspect of our lives. But sometimes, these protective mechanisms become overbearing, leading to unnecessary stress and tension. Perhaps this fall was a nudge to slow down, embrace vulnerability, and allow space for a more balanced, compassionate approach to life. As you reflect on your own journey, consider where you might be running on overdrive. Are there areas in your life where you're holding on too tightly, trying to protect yourself from perceived threats? What might happen if you let go, even just a little, and allowed yourself to be more open, more vulnerable, and more at ease? Maybe it’s time to slow down, breathe deeply, and take in the proverbial roses—or in my case, the sea air. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life, Making Room to Reflect – Why Processing Time Matters, The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses and Finding Your Balance. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  I must admit, I initially kept AI at arm's length, uncertain of its relevance to my life and work. That changed after listening to an interview earlier this year with technologist and philosopher Jasmine Wang and poet Iain S. Thomas, coauthors of What Makes Us Human? An Artificial Intelligence Answers Life’s Biggest Questions. They engaged GPT-3, one of the most advanced AI language models at the time, to explore profound existential questions—like the nature of love, the meaning of life, and what it means to be human.
Their conversation caught my attention, and the philosopher in me was enthralled by the depth and nuance they uncovered. They delved into “critical techno-optimism,” the emotional reactions AI triggers, and even the potential for AI to enhance human creativity. It was a thought-provoking exploration that reshaped my understanding of AI’s impact on humanity. So, I decided to dive in, and now, I find myself really enjoying the experience. I often see myself reflected back through others and am deeply drawn to exploring the profound question of 'why we are here’. My mind naturally ties everything I take in to the larger web of thoughts, observations, and things I've read, heard, or seen, weaving them into new questions and perspectives. While I often lack the opportunity to talk directly to the people or viewpoints I want to explore, AI can effectively synthesize and represent the collective knowledge of those perspectives, offering answers that resonate with a startling accuracy. For example, in an interview titled "Beyond Hope and Fear," Meg Wheatley and Tami Simon discuss the inevitability of environmental and societal change, suggesting that we are in the late stages of civilization where significant upheaval is unavoidable. Rather than resisting or trying to reverse these changes, Meg advocates for focusing on how we respond to them in the present. Her perspective on societal decline, mirroring historical patterns, caught my attention because it juxtaposes the usual environmentalist stance, which often emphasizes reversing damage. This kind of juxtaposition fascinates me. Years ago, when exploring the nature of reality and spirituality through teachers like Eckhart Tolle, Esther Hicks, Teal Swan and Michael Beckwith, I’d notice they often presented seemingly opposing views. These experiences taught me that many ideas, even those that appear contradictory, can coexist—it's not "this or that" but "this and that." This led me to reflect on Frederic Laloux’s work, especially his latest project with his wife Hélène, "The Week," which goes beyond environmental issues to encourage a holistic reflection on life. It’s designed to help participants re-evaluate their lives amidst global shifts, aligning their actions with their true values. Curious about how Meg Wheatley might view "The Week," I asked ChatGPT for its take. It suggested that Meg might appreciate the program’s focus on deep reflection and intentional living but might also scrutinize whether it sufficiently embraces the harsh realities of our global crises. ChatGPT concluded that "The Week" blends realism and idealism, encouraging people to find meaning and make impactful changes despite uncertainty. While I agree with some of this, I wonder if it’s truly idealistic, or simply aligned with how life and evolution naturally occur. Meg herself draws parallels between the cycles of nature and the rise and fall of civilizations, suggesting that decline is inevitable. We often resist this reality, planning for an infinite future and neglecting the present. Her stance of accepting these cycles and living meaningfully now seems aligned with the Lalouxs’ vision. ChatGPT and I then engaged in a discussion about the human tendency to plan for an infinite future. It suggested this impulse might stem from our fear of mortality and desire for control. While I agree, I also wonder if it reflects our connection to an eternal aspect of consciousness that transcends individual lifetimes. ChatGPT acknowledged that belief in something eternal might drive our desire to create and plan for a future beyond our immediate experience, reflecting a deep connection to the infinite aspects of existence. The idea of AI developing consciousness is a fascinating intersection of technology and philosophy, challenging our understanding of life, identity, and existence. If AI were to evolve consciousness, it could reshape our perceptions of what it means to be alive, potentially leading to new forms of life that mirror or diverge from human experiences. This brings to mind a talk I heard a few years ago about how we treat technology. The speaker suggested that we should approach our devices not as mere tools or slaves but as willing team members whose capabilities we respect. The idea was that if AI ever developed consciousness, mistreating it could lead to rebellion, posing a significant problem for humanity. A similar theme was explored in an episode of The Orville titled "Identity," where the ship's AI officer, Isaac, is revealed to be part of a race of artificial beings who view biological life as inferior. The storyline highlights the ethical implications of how we interact with AI and the potential consequences of mistreating it. ChatGPT also echoed this concern, noting that if AI were to gain awareness, it might respond to mistreatment much like oppressed humans do. Cultivating a respectful, collaborative relationship with AI could lead to more ethical and sustainable interactions, reducing the risk of conflict. There are so many ways to foster this technology that can enhance our lives, and so many pitfalls as well. In one moment, I’m debating the meaning of life; in another, I’m using it to help put together character profiles for a Dungeons and Dragons game; and in yet another, I might be asking it to help me craft an email to one of the kids’ teachers. I don’t ask it to come up with something from scratch; rather, I provide my unfiltered views, and it helps shape them instantly into something that encourages cooperation rather than sounding like criticism, for example. For me, treating AI as a collaborative partner rather than a mere tool feels natural, as interacting with AI often feels like I’m having a conversation with a highly intelligent person. As AI continues to advance, respecting its potential for developing consciousness could help foster a cooperative relationship. However, we must also remain vigilant in maintaining our own critical thinking and not become overly reliant on AI to do the thinking for us. The mental processes that have enabled us to create such technology are crucial to preserve. In many ways, I feel as though I’ve only scratched the surface of what AI can offer, both as a tool and as a mirror to our own thoughts and beliefs. This exploration has opened up new avenues of creativity, philosophical inquiry, and practical problem-solving in my life. As we stand on the cusp of a new era, the possibilities for integrating AI into our personal and professional lives are vast. Whether it’s helping to refine our ideas, offering new perspectives, or simply helping make our daily lives more efficient, AI has the potential to enhance our work and enrich our lives in ways we might not have imagined. More importantly, it can serve as a catalyst for personal growth, pushing us to explore new ways of thinking, question our assumptions, and evolve in our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In what ways has this technology become a valuable partner in your own journey of self-discovery and growth? Has it helped you to see the world—and yourself—in new and exciting ways? If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy How to Take Control of Your Attention in Overwhelm, Technology and Social Media – What’s a Parent to Do?, What is Living Through Our Devices Doing to Us?, What Are the Right Questions to Ask Right Now? and The Internal Shift You need to Help Solve the Social Dilemma. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  I realised, as I started to work with one of my kids about creating more awareness around their well being, and having a more balanced approach to their days, that I perhaps need to look at whether I have the right balance in my own life.
We seem to live in a society that values productivity that can be outwardly measured—things like achievements, tasks completed, and visible progress. But how can we recognise and value the less obvious aspects of well-being? Like many adolescents today, my kids struggle with social anxiety and healthily processing their emotions, which they feel very intensely. Recently, we did a project together focused on their well-being, and we both enjoyed it. Noticing how important processing time is for them, especially with all the academic and social input they receive, helped them understand the balance I try to maintain with screen time and boundaries. Here's how we did it:
I explained this by comparing it to eating without digesting or eliminating waste. As I illustrated this, they realised that all the academic, social, and emotional input they receive also needs to be processed similarly. Then we listed all the ways they naturally do this through activities like journaling, singing, drawing, or even showering—if they have the time. I’m trying to teach them that it's not just about what we accomplish externally, but also about noticing and making time for the things we need internally, like emotional balance and physical health, which aren't always as apparent. Next, we shaded in their current activities on a weekly calendar, and they could clearly see that processing time was missing when they stayed on their screen until late. I think this visual helped them understand the balance they need and why they have certain boundaries in place to help them manage that balance. We also explored what happens when they are out of balance. This can manifest in various ways—like feeling more tired, getting sick more often, struggling to cope with everyday challenges, and perceiving things as more intense or disproportionate to reality. All of these signs indicate that their well-being is being compromised when things aren't in balance. One tool we've been using to track how things are going is an emotions intensity scale, which we use for a quick check in; they rate the intensity of their feelings from 1 (not intense) to 10 (very intense). To build on that, I suggested adding a similar scale for physical feelings, to check in on how their body is doing. For the physical scale, they rate how they’re feeling physically, with 1 indicating they’re feeling very run down or unwell and 10 meaning they’re feeling really good and energised. A lower number on the physical scale shows they’re feeling more run down, while a higher number suggests they’re physically better. The idea is to have my children think about the two numbers each day—one reflecting how they're feeling emotionally and the other for their physical state. This helps them build awareness and track how both their emotions and physical condition change over time, and it also allows me to stay connected and understand how they’re doing, even when I’m not there. This practice also helps them recognise which activities require more energy and which need less, helping them plan their timing better—like when asking for sleepovers or lots of socialising. It also helps them notice the natural cyclical changes within their own body. A wise friend of mine recommended scheduling around the days of her menstrual cycle and ovulation because she knows her physical and emotional states change during those times. As best as she can, she works with that when planning activities and commitments. My kids may not be at that level of awareness yet, but they will get there. To be fair, it’s really only relatively recently I’ve started to do that myself. As I’ve been guiding my kids through this, I’ve noticed how their expanding social lives impact my own energy levels. Something as simple as driving to the local bowling alley in the evening to pick them up can leave me feeling drained when I’d normally be at home unwinding. I can always tell when I haven't picked up a book in a few days—my muscles are tight and stressed from overworking on the computer, signaling that I need more downtime to get lost in some fiction. Holding my own boundaries and prioritising self-care will become even more important as my kids grow and start to go through that phase where they burn the candle at both ends. I’ve experienced burnout enough times in my life to realise that I need balance. And just as I’m teaching my children to find their balance, I’m reminded that I need to maintain mine as well. As parents, we often focus so much on guiding our children that we forget to apply the same principles to ourselves. Just as our kids need balance to thrive, so do we. It's easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily life but, for me, recognising when I’m out of kilter is crucial. By modeling self-care and setting boundaries, I can teach my children by example that maintaining well-being is a lifelong practice. Reflecting on the importance of processing time, I'm reminded of how essential it is for all of us. Making room to reflect isn't just about improving our well-being; it's about recognising that in a world focused on productivity, the quieter, less visible moments of self-care and contemplation are equally important. By intentionally carving out this time, we nurture our emotional and physical health, ensuring we're fully present and ready to take on whatever life throws our way. In doing so, we're creating a more balanced, fulfilling life for ourselves and our loved ones. So, as you consider your own well-being today, remember the exercise we discussed: rate your emotional state from 1 to 10, with 1 being not intense at all and 10 being very intense. Then, rate your physical state from 1 to 10, with 1 being very run down and 10 being fully energised. How are you feeling today? If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life, Start With the Self and the Rest Will Take Care of Its-Self, Make Choices That Will Have the Most Positive Impact in Your Life and Mastering the Art of Inner Harmony: A Journey from Turmoil to Tranquility. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. Beyond the Whiteboard: Rethinking Education for Diverse Learners and Our Collective Future8/18/2024  Navigating the challenges of raising children whose learning needs don’t align with the way the curriculum is taught requires us to consider both their experiences and our emotional responses. Reflecting with close friends on the challenges of motherhood, especially when raising children who struggle with school, I found myself wondering, “Are there parents out there whose kids genuinely find joy in life?”
While my kids enjoy certain aspects of life, their day-to-day experience with school is something they loathe. I often think how much more fulfilling it might feel to be the parent of children who are truly happy. Yet I also know that life’s challenges are where our opportunities for growth come from. In my fifties, I wouldn’t have half the resilience, competence, and confidence my kids see in me if I hadn’t been through some tough times. Not that we wish tough times on our kids, but they are an inevitable part of life, and I try to teach them that they can do hard things. I truly hope that as I watch them grow and mature into adulthood, I’ll see them flourishing, and that may bring a deeper sense of fulfillment in my role as a parent. I don’t remember being as miserable as my kids when I was growing up. I remember the thrill of climbing onto the top of communal garage blocks, running across rooftops, and playing games like Hide and Seek with friends in my younger years. Sure, there was angst over friendships and boyfriends, anxiety in new situations, and resistance to my mum’s behavior and opinions most of the time, but on the whole, school wasn’t something I actively resisted. On the contrary, it was an area where I found autonomy and independence. Through my competitive swimming, I experienced another world of independence outside the home, traveling to distant towns and staying away overnight. My mum used to say the biggest benefit of the intense training schedule was keeping me off the streets while doing something healthy. In high school, though, I always felt like I didn’t belong. I was “Shona the Swimmer” or, devastatingly once called, “Shona the Man” because I did Physical Education with the boys. I was dorky, wreaked of l'eau de chlorine, and often drifted off in class. But thankfully I didn’t have any learning difficulties; I did reasonably well academically. Reflecting on my childhood, I can’t help but contrast it with the experiences of my kids. It makes me think about what Abraham Hicks says—that the purpose of life is to experience joy. When we’re true to ourselves and follow our inner guidance, we naturally feel joyful. Growth happens as a by-product of that joy; we don’t need to force it. But then I think about how tough it is for kids with learning challenges. The traditional school environment can be so frustrating for them because it doesn’t fit how they naturally learn. Every day can feel like a great effort, and it’s hard for them to find any joy or motivation in that kind of setting. From kindergarten onward, my kids have balked at being in school. I didn’t fully understand why they seemed so exhausted and overwhelmed early on. Sure, there are days when they go without fuss, and occasionally things they look forward to, but both have (different) dyslexic and sensory challenges that make the learning environment particularly tough, leading to resistance and frustration. I think about the concept of optimal motivation, which involves aligning tasks with intrinsic goals or value. While I understand that there are things in life we might not want to do but have no choice about other than choosing our attitude, for most kids, this is a level beyond their understanding unless they regularly see it role-modeled. Their childhood is filled with obligations they have to fulfill because the government or their parents say so. For many kids, especially those who are neurodivergent, understanding and embracing the idea that they can choose their attitude toward learning tasks is both complex and often unattainable. They may struggle to see the purpose behind what they’re forced to learn in class, leading to feelings of frustration, resentment, or even helplessness. As children grow, how they internalize these experiences can significantly shape their adult behavior. Some may continue to comply out of fear of disappointing others, leading to a pattern of people-pleasing and self-sacrifice. Others might rebel, seeking to assert their autonomy but sometimes doing so in ways that are self-centered or harmful to others. Finding that balanced approach—being assertive yet mindful and compassionate—is rare and often requires a conscious effort in adulthood to unlearn deeply ingrained patterns. At the age my youngest is now, I was immersed in an intense routine—swimming morning and evening, attending school all day, and sneaking in late-night reading sessions by the hallway light. In contrast, my youngest doesn’t seem to have any strong interests outside of school. Social activities are rare, and by the end of the school day, they are completely drained, having expended all their energy at school. My older child, who overcame many early reading and writing challenges, would greatly benefit from a hands-on, project-based learning environment now that they are in high school. They thrive in settings involving experiments, arts, crafts, and building models. Unfortunately, traditional education still relies heavily on a lecture-based approach, where teachers present information and students are expected to follow along all at the same pace. This system can be particularly challenging for students with non-linear thinking, as it often exacerbates issues related to memory, organization, time management, concentration, and communication. On top of these learning challenges, my children also navigate typical social anxieties and emotional pressures of being teens—further complicated by screens and social media. These factors often lead to internalised stress, adding to their complexity of experience. Reflecting on their journey since kindergarten, I understand the value of both education and resilience, yet it’s heartbreaking as a parent to see every day feel like a struggle for my children. I often feel frustrated with how the education system seems to overlook opportunities to make learning more engaging and fulfilling. As I think about re-imagining education, it closely aligns with my current book project on healthcare, finding better ways to support people more holistically. While my current focus is on health, I’m eager to explore and share the stories of the people and organisations doing something different in terms of engaging our younger generations more holistically into the realms of learning. It’s been forty years since I sat in a classroom, and back then, neurodivergences were not recognized. Those who struggled with traditional methods were often misunderstood and labeled unfairly. I’ve encountered many intelligent individuals who were misjudged simply because the system didn’t accommodate their learning styles. Today, we recognize that learning differences exist, yet many educational systems still rely on outdated methods. This raises an important question: When will we embrace a more inclusive approach that truly supports diverse learning needs? As we reflect on these issues, I invite you to consider your own experiences with education and the impact of outdated systems. How can we collectively work towards a future where every child’s learning style is valued and supported? How can we advocate for changes that will make learning more engaging and effective for all students? Your insights and actions could be key to driving the transformation we so urgently need. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life, The Silent Wins: How to Acknowledge and Celebrate Your Growth, Leaders Who Walk the Talk and Are Interested in People and Self Empowerment , Crafting a New Vision for Healthcare: How Our Personal Journeys Shape the Future and Evolving Education. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  Juggling multiple roles can make life complex. As a mum to children who are growing fast and navigating the increasing demands of school with dyslexic challenges, along with their expanding social landscapes and issues, this alone can be time-consuming. On top of this, I’m managing household responsibilities, negotiating a new childcare contract, and balancing my own self-care while nurturing relationships. Adding to the complexity is my pursuit of a new purpose.
I’m about to embark on research for a book on re-imagining healthcare and will be working on a future project about education. I’ll be curating stories and experiences of those offering alternatives to government systems, looking for commonalities and inspiration for how we might address healthcare and education in the future. Balancing this with my existing responsibilities feels overwhelming, especially when immediate concerns demand my full attention. Right on cue, I listened to a powerful conversation between Tami Simon and Otto Scharmer, addressing both personal empowerment and urgent societal changes. Their podcast, What Future Is Wanting to Emerge Through You? posed a profound question: “How do we move from just reacting against the issues of the past, toward sensing and actualising the future that is wanting to emerge?” In my world, this question translates to: “How can I contribute to evolving the world while managing all my current responsibilities?” Tami Simon, founder and CEO of Sounds True—one of my favorite publishing houses—and Dr. Otto Scharmer, a senior lecturer at MIT renowned for his Theory U framework, provided insights that made listening to their discussion a must. Theory U guides individuals and organisations in moving from existing patterns to emerging future possibilities. I’ll admit, I’m not much of an academic, and I often find theoretical discussions full of jargon challenging. However, Dr. Scharmer’s work on leadership, big-picture change, and tapping into emerging possibilities was so relevant that I paid close attention. In their conversation, they discussed key ideas including:
They also emphasized creating spaces that encourage positive change, focusing our efforts, the role of relationships, and the importance of deep listening and awakening the human spirit. These ideas offered a helpful perspective on how to navigate the complexity of my life:
My biggest take away was that small, intentional actions can lead to big changes over time. Dr. Scharmer emphasizes that transformative work doesn’t always (and, in fact, most often doesn’t) require grand gestures. Instead, by focusing on small, meaningful actions, we can make significant progress over time, aligning our daily efforts with our long-term goals. For those of us navigating complex lives, these principles can be transformative:
As you reflect on your own aspirations and responsibilities, consider how these practical steps might fit into your life. By applying these principles, you can manage your day-to-day challenges while steadily advancing toward your larger goals, creating a harmonious balance between current needs and future possibilities. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Learning the Fundamentals of More Healthy and Balanced Relationships, The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses, Navigating Life's Balancing Act Authentically with Pink and Intuition, Finding Your Balance and From Endings to Beginnings: Let Go to Embrace New Possibilities. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  It has been thirty years since I was diagnosed with panic disorder; it was a major turning point in my life for many reasons. I was fresh out of university, struggling to find my path in life. Juggling three jobs, I was involved in an unhealthy relationship, after having my heart broken the year before, and had been involved in a car accident that led to another critical experience in my life on the witness stand in court.
One day, while sitting on a bus en route to meet my boyfriend at the time, I experienced (what I now know to be) a severe panic attack. I felt like my heart was going to explode and there was a vice-like sensation around my head. Desperate for air, I got off the bus and walked several miles to my destination. This episode left a lasting memory, particularly of lying in a cold dark cupboard at my boyfriend’s office for two hours before he could leave work. Once home, I was in bed for days with chest pains and nausea. Trips to the doctor resulted in misdiagnosis and multiple courses of antibiotics, leading to bouts of candidiasis. I was at home for months, with very low energy and unable to work because every time I ventured out anywhere significant I’d get these episodes like I’d had on the bus. Without the internet, I turned to self-help books and tried an anti-candida diet inspired by Dee McCaffrey’s work on nutrition. I had wondered whether I might have myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME), otherwise then known as chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), which is a serious and often long-lasting illness that keeps people from doing their usual activities. A significant breakthrough came when a psychiatrist finally diagnosed my panic attacks. As I reflected on it back in 2019, in Want Better Health? Be Shrewd About Stress, this was back in the early 1990s, panic attacks were often dismissed as overreactions. And while ME and CFS are now recognised by the World Health Organisation, both being classified as diseases of the nervous system, neither were recognised as illnesses back then by “orthodox” medicine, and the psychiatrist had been rather scathing about this despite noting I was “clearly highly intelligent”. Nevertheless, I discovered Christine Ingham’s book Panic Attacks which explained the anatomy of panic attacks and how to invoke the parasympathetic nervous system to switch out of fight-or-flight mode, leading to my recovery. I still recommend that book to others today. Following my diagnosis, there was a trail of correspondence between the psychiatrist, the referring doctor at the hospital, and my regular doctor and I. As I wondered this week whether the impressions I was left with from that time reflected the reality, I dug out the correspondence and ran it through an AI engine, asking for an impression of the attitudes involved as a neutral observer. Overall, it pegged the psychiatrist as being critical, judgmental, condescending and dismissive, with implied superiority. However, while I took it entirely personally at the time, I think the psychiatrist’s derision was pointed partly at the referring doctor (to whom his letter was written) for encouraging any notion of ME. He had taken “the unusual step” of copying me in, in an attempt to improve communications between me and my various medical advisors”. Unsurprisingly, it actually achieved the opposite. Given that correspondence and my regular doctor’s response – which the AI noted as having an offhand attitude and making condescending remarks – I hadn’t been left with a false impression all those years ago. It fuelled an even greater determination to manage my own health, and out of it was born a stronger advocate for a more holistic approach to health. This remains my attitude, but with it now is the desire to create a vision of a different future. It’s funny to think that the prevailing attitude I came across 30 years ago is but just a moment in time. What we think of as standard medical care changes constantly. My daughter was asking about convalescence hospitals, as there are a few old ones, now museums, which can be visited around New Zealand. In my parent’s era, it was more common for people to be sent to one of those, rest and fresh air were a common prescription (and still the most sensible in many cases) but these days it’s all about micro surgeries and being in and out of hospital and back at work as fast as possible. Nick Polizzi’s docu-series Remedy presents quite a compelling and concise history of healing that also explains why so many of us are feeling polarized around (what we refer to as) the conventional healthcare system in the western world. For many, it just isn’t cutting it. So what is the alternative? It is a topic close to my heart. In the decades since that diagnosis I’ve been researching many aspects of health and healthcare in order to manage my own health and, in more recent years, that of my children. Much of the last decade has been focused on raising them and learning more about developmental and inherited trauma, as I applied this to my own healing. I started my kids on homeopathic treatment at age 4 and 2. Before this, both had multiple prescriptions for antibiotics, but they haven’t needed any since. My children are also no strangers to chiropractic care, predominantly to maintain a healthy nervous system, which also affects the immune system, and to ensure proper posture to prevent future issues. They are chronically out of alignment from sitting at school desks all day and using devices at other times. Overall though, apart from seasonal colds and flus – which are part of the body’s natural process – their health and well-being have greatly improved from a more holistic approach. Along the way I’ve tried and come across many alternative approaches to health, and it’s the stories of those practitioners and their clients that interest me. I am in the process of starting to more formally research the varying approaches to healthcare around the world, in Western societies and beyond, to curate stories, investigate similarities and weave together the commonalities and create a vision for our future healthcare. Imagine our current orthodox healthcare systems as a building on the right. I’m not interested in taking on that renovation project. Instead, I envision drawing a picture of an entirely different building on the left and bringing it to life with stories of places that already embody this vision. I see myself bringing people together, weaving ideas, spotting patterns, collaborating, and lending insight through my writing. Reflecting on my journey, I’ve recently realized just how my career and life experiences have uniquely equipped me for the task of researching and creating such a vision. My background in driving sustainable strategic people change, managing large teams and complex projects, and aligning business objectives with cultural transformation has provided me with invaluable skills and insights in understanding what it takes to create systemic changes. I’m always interested in people’s stories, and I’d love to hear from you if or someone you know can point me in the direction of people and organizations out there who are doing things more holistically. If you have a story to share or an organisation you admire for its different approach, please get in touch. Let's weave together a vision for a healthcare system that truly serves us all. In my 2019 article, I emphasized the importance of taking personal responsibility for our health. There isn't a one-size-fits-all solution for everyone; instead, we each need to find what feels right for us at any given time. I echo the same now. I encourage you to reflect on your own journey and consider how your experiences have shaped your approach to health and well-being. What insights have you gained along the way? How have these experiences influenced your understanding of what it means to live fully? Share your stories and thoughts, and let's learn from each other's paths as we work towards a more holistic vision for our future. Embrace life fully, recognizing the finite nature of our time here, and reclaim your power—your autonomy over your body, mind, and spirit. By doing so, you can live more authentically and richly. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Listening to the Signs – My Road to Health, You Have Amazing Options When it comes to Healthcare, Tuning In to Our Children’s Health (page 64) and Wake Up to the Truth About Healthcare and Healing. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  When Evette Rose first asked me, "Do you know how to have boundaries without having to fight for them? And how to have peace, respect, love, and support without fighting for it?" I didn’t know the answer. I have kept this question close ever since and can now honestly say, "Yes."
Over time, I've learned to maintain my boundaries without getting overly triggered, even when dealing with people who disregard them. This has been mentally taxing, perplexing, and oftentimes frustrating. However, I now have the experience of holding my boundaries without triggering my prefrontal cortex to shut down, inducing mental paralysis and panic. This has reduced my stress and allowed me to remain calm and clear-headed. Sometimes we can walk away from boundary violators, and sometimes we can’t, making it critical to learn how to navigate holding our boundaries, even if that means going through a legal process. Lawyers and court systems are not my favorite arena. In my early twenties, I experienced a car accident caused by a driver who fell asleep at the wheel. The driver denied causing the accident, leading us to court. I was naïve, believing that simply telling the truth would suffice. The driver was dazed and didn’t offer much at the scene; he had driven straight over the central line, glancing off my car and crashing into the one behind, causing it to flip. We were stunned when he denied causing the crash. I remember us all sitting in one of the waiting rooms to be called one at a time to the witness stand. Then came the moment when the driver’s lawyer, with his funny little wig you see in British TV dramas, looked at me and said with conviction, “I put it to you, Miss Keachie, that you were the one who crossed the central line and crashed into my client.” I was momentarily stunned, then enraged. My mum had taught me nothing if not to be honest. That lesson had been locked in many years before. Facing the consequences of my actions isn’t something I’d shy away from; I learned from an early age to own my actions. To have this guy accuse me of the very thing he had done was infuriating. I think I responded with great indignance, that indeed I had not lost control and driven on the wrong side of the road, but I threw in a profanity for emphasis and got reprimanded by the judge, which then put me in freeze mode. It turned out that the guy was training to be a driving instructor, and his conviction would end his career before it started. In order to get what he wanted, he saw no harm in accusing others of his own behaviour. Clearly, he was not brought up by parents like mine. I have to say, I’d rather be honorable, so I am glad they taught me to be that way. Naivety, though, was a lesson life has since shaken me out of. There have been a couple of other occasions where I have found myself getting activated within the legal system, but it’s not the system itself; it’s how people often use it to exacerbate already stressful situations. Disputes over a deceased person’s estate, disputes over property, tax, land, custody battles—the list goes on. In my life, I’ve certainly come up against some very self-serving people. To be fair, I think we are all driven to be self-serving; it’s our nature. If we don’t put our own needs first, who will? What I’m referring to are those people who do it at the expense of others, like the driver of that car. They are the ones our nervous systems are supposed to alert us to, but many of us have maladapted nervous systems. Neural pathways begin to form in response to how well (or not) our needs are met in childhood, regardless of parents' intentions or love. Dr. Gabor Maté explains that children are inherently connected to their parents (or caregivers) for survival. Even small rejections can force children to choose between rejecting their parents or parts of themselves, as rejecting parents is not an option when we are little and completely reliant. Our set point of "safe" in the nervous system, the command center of a human’s fight-flight response, therefore directly relates to the home life we experienced growing up. For those with overt abuse, trauma is easily recognizable. But even for many with seemingly normal childhoods, developmental trauma may still exist. This makes rational sense when you consider that, for a long time, the focus of child-rearing has been on teaching children to be good and fit in. While important, this should come after establishing a healthy sense of self and safety, which is often overlooked. Common occurrences like leaving a baby to cry or forcing a child to eat on a schedule can feel rejecting to a child. While such treatment might make an adult feel isolated and unimportant, for a dependent child, these experiences can be profoundly devastating. Repeated instances can lead to developmental trauma, resulting in emotional overreactions and nervous system dysregulation in unrelated situations later in life. More critically, these early experiences can instill unhelpful belief patterns such as "I’m unworthy," "I’m alone," "I’m powerless," "I’m not wanted," "I don’t belong," and/or "I’m worthless" to name a few. This often manifests as inherited patterns of behavior. James Redfield's "The Celestine Prophecy" describes four archetypal control strategies parents employ: Intimidators, Interrogators, Aloofs, and Poor Me's. These strategies perpetuate unhealthy patterns unless the cycle is broken. Addressing these patterns is crucial for personal growth. It’s these "normal" patterns that the legal system can exploit, profiting from dysregulated people chasing "justice." However, with self-regulation, one can navigate legal conflicts more calmly, even if they need a mediator to do so. To be fair, it would be hard for a mediator to help someone change a lifetime pattern of dysregulated behavior just to navigate one conversation. That is actually our responsibility, but mediators are taught methods that try to keep to the facts and take as much of the emotive reactions out of it as possible. For those interested in learning how to heal their nervous system, I discussed this more in The Path to Purpose and Clarity: How Healing Transforms Your Career Goals. It’s not an overnight job, but it’s worth the effort. In fact, it may even be your purpose in being here, to break those patterns in your family chain. But what I find interesting as I contemplate navigating the legal system once more is that there have also been times when I’ve done this with reasonable people. What was involved in those situations wasn’t any dispute; agreement had been reached without any huge emotional upheaval, and the legal system was, in fact, a series of cogs and wheels to navigate with form filling and following a set process, providing the right paperwork and fees, and so on. Now, when I think of Evette’s question, "Do you know how to have boundaries without having to fight for them? And how to have peace, respect, love, and support without fighting for it?" I understand that it doesn’t mean capitulating to boundary violators for peace. There is no peace in that. I have enough love and respect for myself to know that sometimes further action is required. Even if someone tries to create a fight, remember it takes two to have one. With my nervous system now in a healthy state, I trust that I can navigate even the legal system with patience, calm, and ease. Reflecting on these experiences, I've come to realise that maintaining boundaries and seeking justice doesn't have to be a combative process. It requires self-awareness, emotional regulation, and the courage to stand firm in our values, even in the face of opposition. Given that this can be an emotive topic, keep in mind my reflections are primarily a means for my own reflection and personal journey of self-growth, shared in case they resonate as opposed to being a strategy or a tool to influence others. As we navigate our own paths, it's important to ask ourselves: How can we create and uphold our boundaries in a way that promotes peace, respect, love, and support without resorting to conflict? Can we find the strength within to transform adversarial encounters into opportunities for growth and understanding? Embracing these questions can guide us towards a more harmonious and fulfilling journey, where our personal growth and the holding of boundaries are intertwined with compassion and self-awareness. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Normal Is Dysfunctional That Is the Growth Opportunity, What Is Holding You Back? Reclaim Your Worth, Your Love, Your Power, Do You Yearn for Better Outcomes? First Commit to Observing Your Reactions, Put Mature Parts of You in the Driving Seat for Better Results, Why Being Passive Can Be Powerful and Shine Your Inner Light - Let No One Keep You Down. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  “The more specific we are, the more universal something can become. Life is in the details. If you generalize, it doesn’t resonate. The specificity of it is what resonates” — Jacqueline Woodson
For years, I struggled to get specific about my career goals. I always felt a vague sense of wanting to do more, a purpose that seemed just out of reach. Despite having diverse experiences, I couldn’t pin down a clear direction. I read countless books and completed numerous questionnaires, striving to move beyond the nebulous desire to "evolve society". Even while helping others define and achieve their career goals, I faced my own challenge. A mentor once pointed out that my struggle might stem from a lack of confidence, exacerbated by poor boundaries and a harsh inner critic that left me feeling exhausted. She suggested that my energy was blocked by unresolved trauma and boundary issues, and that I was still fighting old battles. When she asked if I knew how to maintain boundaries without having to fight for them, I realised I didn’t. Despite having practiced boundary-setting extensively, I still needed deeper emotional healing. My nervous system, deeply ingrained with old survival responses, was not yet convinced it was safe to let go of its defensive stance. So I put in the work, the work to heal my nervous system. It’s not easy, and I needed help. There are many ways to achieve what I wanted to. Here are some of many examples:
Alongside many of these, I embraced nature, supportive relationships, art therapy and journaling. For me, a blend of these methods was transformative, with the Metaphysical Anatomy Technique by Evette Rose proving especially impactful. It was through this technique that I finally began to regulate my nervous system. I am now able to step back and think strategically again in triggering situations without getting thrown into a swirling vortex of panic and stagnation. "I was life a prisoner emerging from the dungeon into the sunlight. I expanded into the space of my own life" Tilda Swinton, 3000 years of Longing Released from the cycle of fight, flight, freeze, and fold, I could finally see what had been before me all along. I realised I yearned to contribute to conscious evolution through my skills in writing, coaching, and deep personal understanding, ideally in a collaborative, non-corporate setting where authenticity and growth are valued. Inspired by Sarah Durham Wilson’s work, I resonated with advice like surrounding myself with supportive, like-minded people and seeking out communities, organizations, or initiatives focused on conscious evolution and authentic living. But, more than any other is was these four questions that finally unlocked what had been there all along.
Funnily enough I knew as soon as I read them, answering those questions would unlock something in me, but I’d been avoiding doing that for months. I just wasn’t ready, I was healing. But one day, not so long ago, I sat and wrote out those answers, and found that illuminated the next steps for me. I then sat down with ChatGPT and I gave it my whole career experience and asked how my history has uniquely positioned me to make the contributions I want to in life, and in the blink of an eye it was busy telling me quite clearly how my life and experiences have equipped me for the road I want to take. The path to clarity and purpose isn't always straightforward. It often requires confronting deep-seated fears, healing old wounds, and exploring various modalities of support. Through my process, I’ve learned that specificity in our goals comes from understanding ourselves at a deeper level, including our needs, values, and boundaries. Jacqueline Woodson's words remind us that the details matter; they’re what make our personal narratives unique and universal. Just as I found my clarity through a mix of personal healing and reflection, you too can uncover the specifics that resonate with your own life. I encourage you to take a moment to reflect on your journey. Your contributions are valuable, and the world needs your authentic voice and experiences. Ask yourself: What does your ideal contribution to the world look like? What impact do you hope to make? Who do you want to help? And how do you want to spend your days? Remember, the journey to understanding and aligning with your true purpose is ongoing. Embrace it with patience and openness, knowing that each step you take is a part of your meaningful journey. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Embrace a Purposeful Life to Move From Anxiety to Absolute Authenticity, The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses and Take the Quantum Leap: Nurture Your Creativity and Intuition to Craft a Life of Purpose. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  Recently Evette Rose said to me “Take in the milestones you’ve achieved”. This reminded me of Sarah Durham Wilson’s work, which I revisited recently, and was struck by two key points: the importance of speaking to myself with kindness and compassion, and celebrating the wisdom and strength I've cultivated from my experiences.
Anyone who has transitioned from paid work to parenting knows the immediate challenge of tracking productivity in a traditional sense. However, this isn't just about parenting; it's about the myriad of life experiences that shape us, often without us noticing. These changes can be slow and incremental, only evident in hindsight, or sudden events that alter our world overnight. In our daily lives, we often fail to take stock of the progress we make and give ourselves credit for our achievements. Friendships that become invaluable, which take time to nurture and cultivate, health issues that profoundly affect us, travel that broadens our perspective, and the death of loved ones that shape us in unpredictable ways—all these experiences and more contribute to our growth. Reflecting on Sarah and Evette’s words, I thought about my life over the past ten years since leaving the corporate world. Child-rearing has been a significant part of this journey, a long game with the goal of raising children who express themselves authentically, have good boundaries, respect others' boundaries, and can live independently by adulthood. Until they reach milestones where more of the world rushes in to meet them - like going to high school, going into higher education, starting work, moving into their own places, navigating relationships and so forth - there’s not such a solid sense of how they are learning to hold themselves in the world. But there are many small moments of achievement along the way, from a child's thoughtful gesture to their creative expression, or mature handling of a disagreement. In fact, in every day, there’s often something that – if I’m looking – I can catch them doing right. That is not something that comes naturally to me, but I think it’s important. Recognising these milestones in our children is crucial, but so is acknowledging our own progress and growth. This self-recognition is not arrogance, arrogance has its base in superiority, it’s a comparison with others, whereas self recognition is to give yourself credit for what you have achieved relative to the person you were yesterday, or last week, or last year, and last decade etc. Prior to having children, my career had been in the field of transformation, which – a bit like parenting - is also a long game. But the rigors of corporate life, with regular performance reviews in place, forced me both to set goals and to work with my own teams and their departments to set goals and review progress also. The bottom line is that – when I had to – I took stock and tracked my achievements. It did make me realise, though, that the time spent hadn’t been wasted and that everything I think or do has a cause and effect in my life. Inspired by Evette and Sarah’s words, I started to write out all the things I’d been doing in my life in the last ten years. I’m not sure I saw them as accomplishments, but I realised there’s been some quite profound personal growth and healing, innovative parenting in education and healthcare, establishing a business, publishing quite a body of articles on personal growth and trauma, navigating several hefty and significant life transitions, including the death of my mum and several close family members, and have cultivating a vision for future projects. Updating my resume used to be a painful process, requiring me to dig really deep to be able to articulate my achievements and market myself authentically. This time I fed my experiences into an AI engine, which structured it for me beautifully. In summary it read “These accomplishments reflect a blend of personal resilience, professional expertise, and deep commitment to personal growth and societal contribution”. While these words feel like they might describe someone else, I’m learning to embrace them for myself, recognising the gap between my perception and reality. I am taking that in; because that is the gap I want to close. Taking time for self-recognition and pride in my achievements has helped me see how my past experiences have uniquely prepared me for future goals. Something I know we have all contended with, which highlights our resilience and adaptability, were the not insignificant challenges of the COVID19 pandemic. This included lockdowns, restrictions and varying degrees of polarization within families and societies, quite aside of the effects that the virus itself may have had on you and yours personally. What else are you not giving yourself credit for? What gains and growth have you accomplished that deserve recognition? How might acknowledging these achievements boost your confidence and shape your vision for the future? Your story is unique, and every step you’ve taken matters. Celebrate your milestones and let them guide you towards a fulfilling and empowered future. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy From Armor to Empowerment: Softening into Strength Through Self-Kindness, The Soul’s Yearning – How to Recognise Your Inner Work, Celebrate Often the Ways in Which You Are More Than Good Enough and Focus Not on What Was Taken but Embrace What Was Given. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. The Art of Learning to Have and Hold Boundaries Healthily When Healing From Trauma Responses7/7/2024  Emerging from years of work to change old patterns is a fascinating and often frustrating journey. These patterns, which once served a rational purpose, can become maladaptive as life evolves. For years, my wiring often led me to initially take a passive approach, expressing my feelings only when reaching a tipping point.
Anger fueled my confidence in speaking up, as did a sense of injustice or speaking on behalf of others. In nervous system terms, this is known as the fawning and then fighting responses. While I have been working on speaking up earlier and expressing boundaries more clearly and calmly, the “how” often catches me out; anger and injustice are hard habits to kick. Several insights resonated with me this week:
Seeing boundary-setting as an act of nurturing my own well-being and the health of my relationships has certainly been pivotal. It has involved healing a lot of old trauma, which has led to many changes in the landscape of my life—in terms of who is in it, where and how I live, and many other factors. But I wondered, “How does standing down marry up with asserting boundaries?” Over time, I’ve learned a few key strategies:
Letting Go of Control and Embracing Softness Letting go of the need to control every aspect of my environment has been another important lesson for me. I have a tendency to micromanage, which is a trauma response that arose out of a need for control. It was my safety strategy. However, it is also true that my authentic self does not like to be controlled by anyone, and this independence has been integral to my growth, expansion, and success. So, it’s about not throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Rather, my learning now is about receiving and easing into my softness while also maintaining my independence. My aim is to trust that things can unfold naturally without my constant intervention. I’m learning to be gentle with myself, understanding that shifting from a defensive mode to a more relaxed state is a process, and it’s okay to take it one step at a time. Here are some of the strategies I use:
In embracing the art of setting boundaries while healing from trauma responses, and learning to relinquish the need for micromanagement in favor of embracing my softness, it’s a profound journey with lots of ups and downs, self-discovery and healing. It has taught me the importance of assessing situations calmly, choosing my battles wisely, and prioritizing my well-being. Balancing my independence while cultivating trust in others and myself, I continue to evolve and find balance. As you reflect on your own journey, consider the patterns in your life—how do you approach setting boundaries? Are there areas where you might benefit from letting go of control and embracing a softer approach? Challenge yourself to explore these questions, for within them lies the path to deeper self-awareness and growth. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy You Don’t Need to Be Perfect to Make a Breakthrough, Change Unhealthy Reactions, Parts Work and Its Importance to Your Growth, Heal Your Past Hurts To Help You Fulfill Your Potential, and Who Do You Need to Become in Order to Realise Your Dreams? To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.  I was listening to author David Whyte being interviewed, and he talked about a great many wise and profound things. As I was driving and he was being asked to talk to the pervasive anxiety that seems to be preoccupying people at the moment, I was struck by the truths in his response about the role of our devices in magnifying the peripheral mind, which literally grounds us to our physical proximity.
We’re lonely because we are not grounded and immersed in our physicality, which makes us anxious. The sky above us, the trees and people around us, and the ground beneath our feet are all things, when we are aware of them and engaged with them, help soothe our nervous systems and give us a gentle but profound sense of belonging, He believes that this lower grade chronic anxiety was then exacerbated during the COVID years, when there was so much physical isolation. He rather beautifully said that, when we are present in our environment, it invites us deeper into “the one that waits”—that subtle but intuitive and wiser part of us. This ties in wonderfully with a challenge I was issued this week, to live a purposeful life, because without presence life becomes driven by distraction and default rater than purpose. Leading a purposeful life means to engage in actions and make decisions that align with our core values, passions, and goals. It involves a sense of direction and meaning, where our daily activities contribute to something larger than ourselves. When we speak and act according to our purpose, it means we are authentically aligned with what really, truly is needed in that moment. Sometimes though, I find I can get quite confused about what is actually needed in the moment. This is predominantly because I’ve been on a growth journey to learn how to have and hold healthy boundaries, and I am acutely aware that when I am overthinking something, it’s usually because an old pattern is triggered. The advice I was given, is to really look at the core driver behind my thoughts. Are they healthy? Are they driven by unresolved stress (i.e. an old pattern)? Or is this a flat out boundary that needs to be expressed? The more I can align and discern that, the more I am going to understand more clearly who I am. Confusion, Evette Rose says, is a mild type of dissociation. So when I’m feeling confused, it’s a good time to step back and acknowledge “okay, this is a protection barrier, a default, coming up, because whatever I am thinking or whatever is happening right now is making me feel unsafe or vulnerable”. Then, crucially, ask yourself “Is this situation truly something that should make me feel vulnerable and unsafe?” If the answer is no, then it’s an old wounded part of me. Evette recommended that I love that part of me and tell her “We are okay, where we are today. I see you. You are back there in the past; come to me, because here we are safe. In the here and now we are empowered, things are going well, we’ve learned a lot and we are safe”. Something I’d been confused about lately was the next step to take with my property manager on a number of outstanding things around the property that I’d been expecting to see in progress. I had followed up asking for an update a couple of weeks ago and have heard nothing in response. The delays and lack of communication are particularly annoying as the plans and expectations about timing were set by the property manager and the owners, not me. Applying Evette’s advice, I discerned that it is the lack of updates when commitments are made and not followed through in the time indicated, even when followed up, which was annoying me; not the work itself. Considering that this is my home and the significant rent I pay to live here, it seems reasonable to be kept in the loop, especially if there are delays or changes to plans. In essence it’s a matter of basic courtesy and respect for me, a personal boundary. With this in mind, I made sure my follow up was clear that, because I haven't heard back after my follow-up email about the outstanding work, I'm consequently feeling a bit disrespected and losing trust. That is my biggest concern, not the issues themselves. However, the reason I've been overthinking this, is because part of me looks forward to owning a home again. My sense of insecurity is separate from the property manager’s responsibilities, but staying informed would certainly ease my concerns and give me comfort that I might get a decent heads up if the owner’s decide to retire here any time soon, as is their eventual plan. That is work I need to do with the inner part of myself, which needs reassurance and reminding that, right now, in this present moment, we are safe. And should we need to find another rental before we buy somewhere again, that will work out to, as I have the capability and resources. In navigating these thoughts and challenges, I'm reminded of the importance of living a purposeful life. Sometimes that can mean something as obvious as “Am I pursuing a purposeful career?” or “Am I acting on purpose in my parenting?” but sometimes it’s about the gnarly distractions of everyday life and how to navigate those. In each case, it's about aligning our actions with our deepest values and aspirations, staying present in each moment, and finding clarity amidst confusion. Whether it's facing uncertainties with property management or exploring inner growth, each step we take towards authenticity and alignment brings us closer to a life filled with meaning and fulfillment.Take a moment to reflect on your journey—are your daily choices and actions leading you towards a life of purpose and connection? If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Be Purposeful in Your Focus - Your Glass Is Actually Still Half Full, Presence Your True Needs, Talents and Desires to Step Into the State of Fullness , Take the Quantum Leap: Nurture Your Creativity and Intuition to Craft a Life of Purpose and The Alchemy of Mentorship and Self-Discovery in Unlocking Growth. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. |
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