Culture has trained us to doubt our bodies and to override every signal with schedules, apps, and outside rules. We are so disconnected from our own wisdom that listening to our bodies feels almost ridiculous. But beneath the noise, your body is still speaking loud and clear, waiting for you to trust it again. Culture is killing that trust and we need to understand how.

What does a chocolate-striped bikini have to teach us about trusting our own wisdom? Everything, as it turns out. Having ignored at least six internal warnings about soaking it with a white linen shirt, I predictably ruined both. What I share in this post is not a laundry disaster—but rather a perfect example of how we've become spectacularly good at overriding our own expertise. From period cravings to Netflix bedtime battles, we consistently tell our internal guidance system to pipe down. So what happens when we stop listening to the voice that actually knows what it's talking about?

I've got an entire board of directors rattling around my brain, and frankly, they're far more competent than most actual boardrooms I've encountered. There's Diana (grounded warrior energy), Jules (makes big moves without asking permission), and Janice (believes everything should be at least 12% more ridiculous).

For years, I thought personal development meant fixing what was broken. Actually, it meant recognising what was working beautifully - and giving those parts a proper say again.

Crisis amplifies one perspective until it drowns out everything else (hello, Stella). Rather than silencing her, I've been learning to rebalance the entire conversation.

Want to meet some of those voices of reason and hilarity?

You used to take on challenges without hesitation. Now the thought of stepping up is fraught with uncertainty—Can I do this? Will I implode again? If only burnout recovery had a “you’re ready now” end point. It would make it so much easier to know when to trust yourself again. This piece explores that space where caution and confidence eventually meet—where you’ll start to notice the quiet return of your appetite for challenge and curiosity and life on new terms.

With burnout your nervous system is stuck in stress mode, running constantly on high alert. In this post, I explain what the hell is going on inside your brain and body that’s stopping you from recovering, along with four tiny, simple things that can actually tame your nervous system when it’s out of control. We talk about rebuilding the basics your body relies on, noticing the inner voice that keeps pushing, learning to let in help, and choosing ease over effort — small, consistent actions that send clear signals of safety to your system. The first step to recovery is simple: quiet moments that say to your nervous system, “It’s okay now.”

“The voice that told me I was lazy? I named her. Stella.”

This is a quiet collection of things that helped my slow recovery from burnout. The gym, just to remember I had muscles. Hospital corners every morning and early nights every night. A tomato salad, a walk that wasn’t graceful, a tiny win at 4:52pm on a Thursday. A whisper that tugged you toward something new.
The slow, unpolished remembering of the things that felt less awful.

It was the snort-laugh that erupted without warning over lunch—foreign, shocking, and wonderfully mine. After six months of hollow-eyed burnout recovery that seemed to go nowhere, this unexpected burst of genuine joy was my first clue: healing had been happening beneath the surface all along. If burnout dismantles you through a thousand tiny surrenders, recovery rebuilds you through a thousand imperceptible shifts. The labyrinth feels endless until suddenly you're standing in its centre, transformed not into someone who finally understands that glacial progress still moves mountains.

No woman plans to burn out. Yet there we are—staring at screens unable to write basic emails, wondering how we arrived at this desolation. Burnout isn't a sudden collapse but a thousand tiny surrenders: cancelling therapy for "urgent" meetings, ignoring headaches, mistaking exhaustion for dedication. Society taught us productivity equals fulfilment, that rest is weakness. For women, add impossible contradictions: be nurturing but not needy, ambitious but not aggressive. When your body finally stages its coup ("Fuck this bullshit"), recovery demands more than bubble baths. It requires Radical Self Respect—treating your needs as valid rather than inconvenient. Your healing begins when you realise burnout was never a badge of honour—just the predictable outcome of a broken system.

Picture this: three women speeding down the motorway at 130km/h when suddenly one rolls down her window without explanation. Wind howling, hair flying everywhere—yet nobody bats an eye. When the hot flash subsides, the window goes up, and conversation resumes seamlessly. This is perimenopause posse shorthand—unspoken solidarity when hormones override social norms. From validating your experience to finding fierce medical advocates, building your midlife tribe, and demanding better treatment, your perimenopause journey demands both personal advocacy and collective wisdom.

From girlhood, I was taught to "push through" my body's signals. We all were. But perimenopause? That's a whole different game. The brain fog, insomnia, rage, and physical changes —they're a biological earthquake. I'm stunned by how many brilliant women have no idea that the chaos they're experiencing is hormonal. They think they're losing their edge, their sanity, their worth. And I'm done watching women blame themselves while navigating minimal support from healthcare, workplaces, and sometimes partners. Isn’t it about time we started demanding the respect our bodies deserve during this decade-long transition?

Ever noticed how women's voices are routinely dismissed until it's too late? The ancient Greeks have helped us label this the “Cassandra phenomenon"—a curse where truths spoken by women go unbelieved. When my perimenopause symptoms became unbearable, I discovered firsthand what happens when medical professionals, friends, and even family doubt your lived experience. In a system that doubts women's credibility, sometimes being narky is the only path to being believed about our own bodies, and I’m ok with that.

Prison-grey bloomers, eight children's legs splayed like a human tunnel, a ball catapulting through our makeshift passage - this is my first vivid recollection of exhilarating movement. Not some sanitised sports routine, but pure, wild motion that made our hearts thunder and our spirits soar.

This exploration celebrates the pure, childlike joy of motion. Whether you're 20 or 79, your body is an unfolding adventure. Your body is ready to dance. Are you?

This story represents the attitude to food that I believe works: food to fuel that amazing body that carries you through life and food to fuel that beautiful soul, without which life isn’t rich, wonderful, and fulfilling.

After years of pushing through exhaustion, I hit a breaking point. A toxic colleague, a system that enabled him, and my own burnout left me drained. I took a "gap year"—a break I never allowed myself at other turning points in life. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave me space to reflect, rediscover my needs, and reset. This post is about stepping back, embracing the pause, and reclaiming clarity and strength when life feels too overwhelming. Taking time off isn’t unproductive; it’s an investment in coming back stronger and more aligned with who you truly are.

Change isn't gentle—it's a full-on wrestle with discomfort. Moving countries, facing midlife shifts, and rebuilding my life meant sitting with moments that felt raw and awkward. In this new city, with a broken heart and a growing business, I've learned that growth doesn't come with a warning. It demands you show up exactly as you are—messy and uncertain. Sometimes that means eating differently, sometimes it means saying no when it feels hard. Transformation isn't smooth. It's a constant, uncomfortable conversation with yourself.

We’ve been taught that “selfish” is a dirty word, especially for women. We’ve been conditioned to put others first, to give and give until we have nothing left. Radical Self-Respect is the antidote to that cycle. It’s not about abandoning everyone for a solo retreat (unless you’re really into that), it’s about carving out space for yourself, setting boundaries, and saying, “I matter too.” This isn’t selfishness in the negative sense, but a radical act of self-preservation. When you start prioritising your well-being, you can show up stronger, clearer, and more present for everything and everyone you care about. And yes, you deserve that without an ounce of guilt.