I left that meeting with that all too familiar feeling… it wasn’t enough. Even though I had earned it. Even though I’d wanted it. Even though, technically, I should have felt excited about it. It wasn’t enough. I could already see around the corner.

I was waiting for the internal scream. The when will it ever be enough?! It didn’t come. Instead, there was a quiet nod that said we’ve been here before. Time to move on. My body knew before my mind did. Like the wise best friend who sits back and lets you ramble until the truth slips out of you at two o’clock in the morning on the way to the afters. No, I told you so. Just quiet support.

Because the awareness was never the hard part. It’s the steps that come after.

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So what comes next?

If I mute the voices of obligation and fear for a second, what whispers can I hear from the next room?

The room that I am being called into as the person I am Becoming.

The room you are currently in is just fine. Lovely even. So why can’t you shake the habit of trying to listen in on the next room? With a glass and your ear pressed to the wall?

There’s a part of you that lights up imagining the possibilities. That looks around at the room you are currently in, thinking, I could paint this whole wall forest green.
What if I hung ceiling-to-floor velvet curtains?
I could even get a custom table built to have cushioned seating on one side and a bench on the other.
Ooh, what if we added window sills on the inside?

Then it kicks in. The loud voice that starts listing reasons. This room is fine. Nothing is broken. I don’t need to spend the money. Yucking your yum before it’s even out. Trampling on the sapling that just had the courage to sprout.

Underneath them both is the quietest voice. The one that suspects the dream might not just be possible. But that you actually want it.

And in this game, the loudest voice wins.

So you stay in the room that’s just fine. Feigning contentment. No shade to feeling content, in this economy, go off sis. Contentment is real and should be cherished. It only becomes an issue when you are slinking back into the hedges of ‘fine’ to avoid who you are being called to be. A signal that somewhere between building the thing and your initial success, you also built yourself a ceiling.

What was once “I don’t need to make loads of money” now comesame with the creeping suspicion that the relationship between ambition and integrity looks different than you initially thought.

What was once “I’m building something that matters” now comes with the quiet fear of abandoning the people the first thing was built for.

As someone who has chosen the harder path more often than not, I understand the temptation to stay where you are. When I look back, I can see that some decisions were made long before my consciousness caught up.

Life has a funny way of making sure you either get on the bus, or get hit by it.

I found myself walking down cobblestone streets after teaching Pilates, thinking wtf am I doing? Working a full-time job that drains me when I love teaching movement?’. My backpack felt like lead with every step toward the office. Knowing my talents were wasted.

One day, I threw on the brightest vintage floral dress in hopes of shifting the dread, and walked to work. I looked up to the sky and asked for a sign from the universe, and within the hour, I was laid off.

Just like that.
No full-time job.

The universe works quickly when it’s supporting you towards alignment. That opened up a whole realm of possibilities for me and led me down the winding path of trusting my gifts. I had been sitting at the bus stop watching buses come and go but I wouldn’t get on. So, ready or not, I was shoved.

The question is, and probably always has and always will be:

What are you calling contentment that is actually fear?

I’m asking you to get really honest with yourself. It requires you to feel a little silly for how big the dream is. To cringe a little at the audacity. It should feel a little scary to admit how big your vision truly is. Growth is not comfortable, but it’s allowed to be fun, especially when you have someone walking by your side to teach you to harness your magic and express it in a way that is all yours.

When you get shoved on the bus, you have to choose a destination, whether you like it or not. So, we did what most people don’t do and planned our fourth international move.

Melbourne → Berlin→ Mexico→ Los Angeles→ London.

In the planning stages, I actually stopped, frequently, to ask myself to ask if I was joking. Did I really want to do all of that again? Did I really want to uproot everything? Was this a smart decision for a mid-30s couple and their dog? It was the type of interrogation that went for weeks, then months. I kept returning to it.

But here’s the thing. I’m using my life as a colour palette. Mixing colours and testing things out. Going where I feel called, even when it scares the shit out of me. Pivoting when I want, knowing that the pivot is the point. Even when I know other people won’t understand. This fourth move wasn’t a question of ‘should I do it’. We were going to move, regardless – the question was direction. Toward the safe and known of Melbourne, or the adventure and cold of London.

I understand the hesitation. The hug of the knees and the scrunch of the nose. The I can’t possibly be entertaining this idea. It’s all part of the process. There is nothing wrong with you for daring for more. You can be both grateful for what you have achieved and desiring something bigger. Both can exist at the same time.

That wanting you’re feeling is the signal, not the problem. The invitation is figuring out how to hold it, to accept the change that comes with it and then learning to start moving with it.

Growth can feel uncomfortable. But so can staying in a colourless room decorated by a version of you that you no longer align with. Both come with their own challenges but only one of them stretches you into new spaces. Only one hands the mic to the quietest voice.

You’ve built something real. And some part of you already knows it’s not the whole story.

That’s exactly who I work with. Builders who’ve passed the initial success levels, but hit the bit nobody warns you about. The part where you genuinely can’t tell if this is something to be trusted or just a pretty distraction.

I help you to:

Develop a self-trust grounded in evidence, not affirmations. So the neon FRAUD sign quietens because the data underneath you is finally louder than it.

Stop being swaddled by your own secret service. Recognise the keeping-you-safe move for what it is: a quiet rejection dressed up as strategy.

Read the invisible undercurrents that have been pulling you backwards while you called them research, prep, planning.

And.. make the call that would have taken six months last year in the space of an afternoon. Without spiralling. Without auditing. Without needing it validated by everyone in the group chat.

Come find me when you’re ready to find out what’s in the next room.

If this landed somewhere in your chest, you’re probably my kind of person. Bold, curious and often crying over strangers on the internet. We need more sensitive sods like you harnessing their magic in this world.

I write about growth, identity, and the audacity of wanting more.

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The answer is both simple and complex. Simple because I had a vision for my life that was rich in adventure and travel. Complex because I had no idea where it would lead or what the exact steps were. But by leaving home and moving to Berlin I took a gamble on the type of person I could be rather than who I knew myself to be. I could never have mapped out the whole plot, I simply couldn’t see that far ahead.

“It’s like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” - E L Doctorow.

I chose the unknown. I followed the tug that said, ‘I don’t know what’s over here but I think it could be fun’. In doing so, I showed myself that I was not only limited to what I had done before. I could leave everything I knew behind and use the skills I had to try and build something new for myself. There’s a special type of confidence that comes with backing yourself in big ways. One that creates an unshakeable foundation that reminds you that everything is figure-out-able. This version of me is my ‘ideal self’ how I wish I could show up all the time. Grounded in my values and trusting the vision.

On the flipper, the version of me that stayed seems like she would have had a pretty lovely life too. But if I am honest, this is the version of me that I felt obligated to be. The one who was grateful for all that I had and didn’t want to push the envelope. Choosing not to seek for more when I already had ‘enough’. But here’s the thing, I was never pushed in one direction. As a first generation child to immigrant parents, I had a unique experience. I wasn’t forced to be a doctor or a lawyer. Instead, I was told the world was my oyster and was encouraged to treat it as such. This allowed me to get my Psychology degrees AND travel. To taste the smorgasboard and have the better life my parents wanted for us kids (even if it meant their youngest, and only daughter gallivanting across the globe like Carmen Sandiego).

So even though my life looks different to the version of me that stayed, I still have the borrowed voice of obligation voice within me tell me what I ought to do . The one who has absorbed the stories of how my life ‘should’ look. The one who says ‘moving to London? Girl, you’re taking the piss. Don’t you think it’s time to go home? Isn’t a bit irresponsible to move across the world again in your 30s’? She’s definitely still here. I can hear her voice but it just depends on how often I let her lead.

This is the part that most people miss. It’s not about silencing those parts of yourself. It’s about listening to what they have to say and being grounded enough in your values and vision to make the decisions that lead you through the murkiness. It’s about acknowledging that you have agency and then taking responsibility for it.

So if it didn’t have to look like marry the person, have the babies, climb the ladder, buy the home - what else could it be? When you choose to see unlimited possibilities with an unwavering sense of ‘I will figure it out’ sprinkled with an audacity to think bigger, what vision forms? This is where you get to know your ideal self. The version of you who has the freedom to shut the laptop at 2pm on a Thursday afternoon for a later lunch that turns into dinner. The version of you who takes the summer off because they can. The version of you that contributes meaningfully to your community because you have created the means to do so. The version that hears the voice of obligation and says ‘thank you, I understand why you would suggest that but I am going to try this instead’.

You might not have been fully introduced to this version yet. Maybe you have seen projections of them but they haven’t fully landed. The one who lives on your vision board that you chat with frequently. Some days it feels like you’re talking over two empty cans connected by a string. Others it’s as easy as a FaceTime over 5G. You wear their clothes and speak their affirmations into the mirror but the neon flashing ‘fraud’ still appears sometimes. You can smell their life and you hope it is possible. It’s just that the waters between are muddy and there are creatures lurking beneath the surface that you don’t particularly want to face alone.

You can probably already begin to see now that there are infinite possibilities of who you may become. Understanding the interactions between who others expect you to be, who you want to be, and who you dread becoming, can get messy and loud. It’s like three sisters in one household fighting over the same wardrobe (which is your life) and the dynamic between them all are unique. These three sisters have pretty distinct personalities and through specific questions we can begin to understand who keeps winning the argument and what tactics they’re using. From there we can create the awareness and practice the skills to cross the aspirational bridge between who you are today, and who you are becoming.

The most critical driver of creating this alignment with your possible selves is vision. It has to be yours. Not borrowed from your parents, friends or society. It has to be genuinely yours and then you must truly believe that it is possible for you. Otherwise, your brain will quietly reject it.

• You’ll see some success and then go into hiding

• You’ll turn left at a fork in the road toward safety instead of right into possibility

• You’ll avoid anything that might lead to real change

These are the quiet rejections. This happens when your identity doesn’t feel strong enough to hold the weight of your vision. Like an exercise band that’s so tight you can’t even complete one repetition. Of course you’re going to feel like a failure if you load too high and can barely complete a rep. So we start lighter and load it up the stronger you get.

This is where the vision becomes real and your confidence compounds, in the small daily choices. Because theories are great but theories without application are just food for thought. When you layer theories over frameworks that inspire small actions, it becomes life changing.

It’s the ‘what’ and the ‘how’. We have over-indexed on the ‘what’ for too long. Choosing to arm ourselves with as much knowledge as possible, unknowingly feeding the belief that once you know better, you will do better. But it isn’t that simple, is it? Because here we are. All the knowing and not much of the doing. One thing you will always get from me is the reminder to go and live your fucking life. To stop beating yourself up about the mistakes made. Take the lessons but leave the self-flaggelation behind. There are enough systems trying to keep the boot on our necks, we don’t need to do that work for them. Instead, let’s focus on sharpening the skills to build our internal perception so that we can live in the world we choose to build. We are done setting up shop in the awareness phase.

Consider this your invitation to start listening more intently to those three sisters fighting over the wardrobe so you can move through the murkiness with conviction. Who is leading the conversation? Is it the sister pulling you away from what you are hellbent on avoiding? Maybe it’s the dutiful sister who doesn’t want to let anyone down? Or is it the sister with the vision stretching you into the unknown? They all deserve a place at your marble table. You just might need a bigger table to map out all the possibilities.

Even with windows on every side it’s as though we believe we are invisible.

Pick your nose. Belt it out. Rage at the person who cut you off. Then we step out like nothing ever happened with a little ‘ahem’ and a smoothing hand down our front we continue on our day.

My drive into the office is usually uneventful. I know the route, I don’t need maps and it takes 36 mins. This day did not start out like the rest. Firstly, I left at 9:30 instead of 8:15, where did that time go? It was a form of protest. For a job that has held me captive for 50 hours a week. Where I have been whoring out my emotional intelligence to the corporate overlord. Instead I made myself some eggs and sat down to write when I should have been getting into my car. As I said, a small protest.

Begrudgingly I get into the car, muttering silently about productivity and how I can get more done at home rather than gas bagging in the office, wasting my time commuting back and forth, crazy LA drivers endangering my life etc etc - it’s a well rehearsed list. But today was not to be like the others. I place my tea in the middle cup holder, my Owala in the side door where it fits and I take off. There’s the usual tricks and strategic lane changes where you know you can sneak a couple cars ahead, a little cheeky but nothing horn worthy. It’s when I turn onto the freeway where the commotion begins. It’s an immediate halt. Stillness. I start to peer into the surrounding metal boxes.

One woman is clearly on the phone having a heated discussion. With her tightly pulled back her and perfectly winged liner, she’s trying to hold back fully unleashing as she rolls her eyes (and whole head) at something the person said through her bluetooth speakers.

Another man in a vintage car, white hair, aviators and smoking a cigar smiles at me. Gives me a wave with his gloved hand as if to say ‘i think we will be waiting here for awhile’. I give just enough acknowledgment to be cordial but not too much that he actually tries to talk to me.

It’s when I look in my rear vision mirror that I see a man who has transformed into a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, heavy on the horn. Someone made a cheeky move not too dissimilar to some of my own that he clearly did not like. Which he is expressing freely through wild gesticulations and what I can only imagine to be obscene profanity.

I can’t help but notice what animals we become in these little metal boxes. Behind our thin veils of protection. Where we don’t think we can be reached by judgement. Or that there will be no consequences for our actions. It’s where our ugliest expression just slips out.

I looked at the man foaming at the mouth. Really looked at him, getting so worked up. So violent over something so trivial. Without the emotional regulation to control himself. To harness what he was feeling. To swallow it. To choke on it. To inflame his insides instead of letting it out into the world. Did he not know that he was the one meant to suffer on his agony? It wasn’t for everyone else to endure. It was his own. How dare he express it with such freedom. Like only a man could I thought. What a luxury.

He will drive away after this encounter without a second thought. He will get out of his car and with the self awareness of a thumb, roam freely thinking his response was justified. Whereas, I have a keen eyed paralegal ready to document every infraction I commit. Every outburst of anger filed away in a soft leather bound moleskin as a reminder of all the ways I am not ‘nice’ enough. Witnessing his rage made me realise that not everyone keeps their anger locked in a basement worthy of Joe Goldberg.

I thought about all the times I wasn’t able to choke down my reactions. How it came spilling out demolishing my composure and obliterating my self perception. Whether it was a snide comment to someone who didn’t deserve it or yelling at your partner to crunch their apple somewhere else…

Self judgement would always find it’s way to me, using me like a punching bag for stepping beyond the threshold of ‘good’ and ‘nice’.

Our conditioning is like a straitjacket that wraps tightly around our very existence. We have been taught that our anger doesn’t have a seat at the table - like a child of the 80s it is to be seen and not heard.

Which means we don’t know how to express our anger in a way that feels validating. That allows it to be felt and then dissipate. Instead, we dress it up as a backhanded compliment dripping in Passive Aggressive. Then we beat ourselves up for it because ‘you’re better than that’.

We have learnt to memorialise our emotions as identity markers instead of allowing them to be fleeting expressions of a moment in time.

You snap at your kid and all of a sudden you’re the worst parent who has ever existed, no doubt just tripling your child’s future therapy bill. An absurd conclusion fuelled by the very real pressures of unrealistic expectations. It’s important to give our emotions a space to land. Somewhere to be themselves. Where we aren’t shaming them for merely existing.

How would your relationship with yourself change if you claimed your anger? What would need to happen for you to put a stake through the heart of ‘nice’ and say ‘i’m fucked off right now’? Knowing there is no other story you need to attach to it. No justification. No explanation. Just name the simmering (or boiling), and let it go. How would that change your internal experience?

What would it take for you to reassign your paralegal to a different task? Or better yet, fire them.

Because let’s be honest, you and I both know that you have a finite amount of fucks to give. The rabid dog behind me is spending his on a lane change. What are you spending yours on? And more importantly - do you really believe your anger is worth less than his?

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