the very abridged version of
My Story
Heart-on-fire Creative, Wife, Mom & Coach!
I grew up west of Sydney, Australia, in a town called Penrith with a good old clothes line* out the back.
I was a sensitive kid, introverted and creative, full of daydreams and imagination.
Throughout high school, I discovered a love for graphic design. I went on to earn a degree in Visual Communications, and for many years I worked in the print and digital space. Eventually, I launched out on my own as a sole trader*, specializing in branding and websites.
By this time, I was married to Chad and pregnant with our daughter, Emera. I thrived in my business and loved my work, yet something about what I was doing didn’t fully align with my heart. The projects that lit me up most were for other creatives with a vision to inspire, connect, and genuinely serve their clients.
As I explored this, I realized it wasn’t enough for me to simply facilitate that vision. I wanted to cultivate and embody it myself. This longing wasn’t new; it was something I had been drawn to even as a little girl. What I didn’t yet have language for was this: I was capable, skilled, and driven, yet profoundly un-resourced.
In the wake of giving birth to my son, Jace, three and a half years later, I began to buckle under my own expectations. After much deliberation I decided to lay down the tools, right before we moved to America, in the hopes that I could start fresh with a new direction.
Instead, as our feet hit the ground in California, I felt less sure of my next adventure. The emptiness that followed was daunting and deeply confronting. During this season, I learned that I was a workaholic—obsessed with staying busy and unable to separate my worth from my productivity. I also discovered how difficult it was for me to sit still and do nothing.
As this forced rest unfolded I began to grieve, what felt like the weight of an ocean.
This went on for years. My marriage and my children began to feel the impact of the inner rollercoaster I couldn’t seem to slow down or get off. Things grew dark. The more I tried to fix myself, the heavier everything became. Every attempt to hide behind a new venture, a new purpose, or a new role crumbled in my hands.
I could feel myself spiraling and what once felt like a rollercoaster became an island of mazes, tunnels, knotted jungle paths and dead ends. Shame took root, and I felt profoundly lost.
As I tried to map my way through the unfamiliar territory of rest, I was met by very familiar themes. Echoes from my childhood called out. Old anxieties and unresolved wounds made themselves known. Dismissed emotions demanded to be felt. A sadness I had long buried finally found its voice.
As I tried to map my way through the unfamiliar territory of rest, I was faced with some very familiar themes. Echoes from my childhood called out, unresolved traumas and old anxieties unearthed, a mountain of dismissed feelings begged to be felt and a sadness I had stuffed down took over.
I was overwhelmed, angry and deeply burnt out.
This moment felt like a culmination of so many layers; my desire and yearning for healing, peace and wholeness was more than I could bear. The little girl in me was reaching out for closure, while I was learning how to reach back toward her.
In the pain we both ached for meaning.
What I couldn’t see then was that this very path –the one I was resisting– would become the heart-aligned adventure I am now living. The place where purpose would begin to emerge not despite the pain, but through it.
Over the following years, I learned how to stop abandoning myself. I reached the end of old strategies and surrendered in ways I didn’t know were possible. Slowly, I began rebuilding my life from the inside out.
I explored many therapies and approaches, read countless books, and integrated a wide range of tools. Yet perhaps the most significant work was unlearning the paradigms I had relied on for years… methods that emphasized fixing, pushing, and overriding instead of safety, presence, and connection.
Through this process, something unique began to form. I learned how to build internal resources, widen my capacity for intimacy, and stay present with myself and others–even when it felt uncomfortable or unfamiliar. This became the foundation of my healing and the way I learned to cultivate a life rooted in love, regulation, and honest connection.
It was the hardest, and most important work I have ever done.
I learned how to stop abandoning myself. I reached the end of old strategies and surrendered in ways I didn’t know were possible.
Today, I write this feeling deeply whole and at rest –something I once believed was impossible– with the same heart-on-fire I carried when I first began as a designer. The difference now is that I feel securely aligned. This work of connection and coaching couldn’t be closer to my heartbeat.
The journey here was turbulent, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I don’t share this story lightly. It feels tender to peel back the layers and express what is behind the smiling photos and curated words. I do it though, because I truly believe vulnerability leads the way.
If I am to call myself a coach, I want you to know this: I don’t teach from theories alone or from polished certainty. The book I teach from is worn and weathered… its margins inked with notes, its pages marked by lived experience, its words etched in through seasons of real, embodied learning.
I am so grateful you are here.
I hope you stay for a while.
*Clothes line: Aka the Hills Hoist, an Aussie icon found in almost every backyard in Australia—a height-adjustable rotating clothes line for drying clothes in the sun and wind.
*Sole trader: A self-employed person who owns and runs their own business as an individual.
