If you're connecting with my work, I'm guessing you've already done some personal development work, have a good understanding and a lot of insight.
So why do you keep ending up back here?

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Perhaps you've done therapy, yoga, retreats or journalled your way through troubled times. Read all the books and listened to the podcasts. Maybe you've even trained as a teacher, coach or healer yourself.

 

You know about attachment styles and boundaries and people-pleasing. You can spot your inner critic, and youve got a pretty good understanding that the way you learned to survive, belong and be loved has shaped the woman you've become.

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You know a LOT. And then real life happens.

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• Your mum calls, and within thirty seconds, despite everything you understand about the relationship, you're twelve years old again.
   

• Someone asks you for a favour and “Of course, no problem!” is out of your mouth before you've even checked whether you actually want to do it.

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• Your partner seems slightly off and suddenly you're replaying the conversation, wondering what you've done wrong and whether you need to smooth things over.
   

• You finally decide you're going to make more room for yourself, and somehow the weekend disappears into everyone else's needs again.

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• A friend raises an eyebrow at something you're excited about and you hear yourself explaining, qualifying and making it sound much less important than it felt five minutes ago.
   

• You get wildly excited about an idea - travelling in a campervan, starting your own business, doing something completely different. Then the practical questions, other people's opinions and who do I think I am? creep in. A week later, you've quietly talked yourself out of it.
   

• Or you have one of those rare, crystal-clear moments "I don't want to keep living like this." And within hours:

What if I'm selfish?

What if I regret it?

What if I hurt people?

What if actually I'm the problem?

Actually, things aren't that bad. I just need to be more grateful.

And you're back researching, analysing and waiting for a little more certainty.

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You know it, until the moment you need to live it. Then something happens. 

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If this sounds familiar, it's likely you're not lacking in information or insight - in fact, you might be drowing in it!

And I'm guessing you don't need to try harder. You may simply be trying to solve the problem in the wrong place.

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In my work with women, I see us lose contact with ourselves in three places again and again.

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See which one feels most familiar to you right now.

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1. I can't hear myself

You spend a lot of your life in your head - thinking, planning, remembering, anticipating, working things out - over and over.

You're often the one holding everything together - at work, at home, in your family. And you're darn good at it.

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But somewhere along the way, it can become easier to know what everybody else needs than to know what you do.

Someone asks what you want and your brain immediately gets involved:

What's realistic?

What can we afford?

How will that affect everyone else?

What should I want?

 

You might finally get a free afternoon and discover you've absolutely no idea what you'd like to do with it.

You know you're exhausted, but when you sit down your hand reaches for your phone, your mind starts making lists, or you suddenly remember the washing needs doing. Even stopping can feel strangely uncomfortable.

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You may not need clarity yet.

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You may simply need enough space inside to hear yourself again.

Not the loud voice of anxiety, or the inner critic telling you what you're doing wrong.

Not another thought about what you should do.

It's something quieter - the felt sense of THIS is really me.

 

Try this now

Take one minute - feel the support underneath you. Notice your feet. Your breath. Your belly. Your jaw.

You don't need to relax anything or make yourself feel better. 

Just notice: What's here?

And then: What do I know right now that I haven't been listening to?

Don't go looking for a profound answer.

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Maybe it's: 

 

I'm tired.

I don't want to do this.

I miss having fun.

I need some space.

I'm actually okay.

I know what to do but I'm scared

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Whatever comes, don't do anything with it yet.

Just notice what happens when you stop trying to work yourself out and just listen.

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2. I can hear myself. I just can't tell what's true.

Sometimes the problem isn't that you can't hear yourself.

It's that you can hear everybody.

Including all the different versions of you.

I want to leave.

Don't be ridiculous.

I want more.

You have a lovely life. Why can't you just be grateful?

I want to do something completely different.

At your age?

I need things to change.

But what if I change them and discover I've made a terrible mistake?

This can show up in surprisingly ordinary ways.

You feel excited about something until somebody questions it.

You make a decision, feel relieved — and wake up the following morning wondering whether you've got it completely wrong.

You know what you want, right up until you imagine explaining it to your partner, children, parents or friends.

Suddenly the clear thing isn't clear at all.

No wonder you feel stuck.

We often call this indecision.

But sometimes there are simply different parts of us pulling in different directions.

One part longs for freedom.

Another wants security.

One knows something needs to change.

Another is terrified of rejection, disappointing people, being selfish, getting it wrong — or losing everything you've worked so hard to build.

None of those parts is stupid.

They're usually trying to take care of you.

The problem comes when you expect one of them to produce the answer.

 

What if you don't need to make the decision yet?

Bring to mind one thing you've been going round in circles about.

Nothing enormous if you don't want to.

Then finish these sentences:

A part of me wants...

Another part of me is afraid...

And then:

Beneath all of that, what feels quietly true?

Don't ask what you're going to do about it.

That's where we often frighten ourselves straight back out of clarity.

For now, see if you can simply recognise what's true.

I don't want this anymore.

I love this, but something needs to change.

I'm lonely.

I'm not ready.

I want more freedom.

I actually want to stay.

You don't need the whole answer to begin trusting what you know.

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3. I know what's true. I'm just not living it.

This may be the most frustrating place of all.

Because you do know.

You know you need better boundaries.

You know you're exhausted.

You know you want more space.

You know you need to stop explaining yourself.

You know which conversation you keep avoiding.

You know what you'd love to try.

You may even have written about it in your journal, talked about it in therapy and promised yourself this time will be different.

And then the moment comes.

Someone asks you for something.

Someone looks disappointed.

Your mother makes that comment.

Your partner goes quiet.

You imagine someone thinking you're selfish, difficult or ungrateful.

And somehow...

You say yes.

You soften what you really mean.

You start explaining.

You postpone the conversation.

You get very busy.

You decide you need a little more certainty first.

You find seventeen things that suddenly seem more important.

And sooner or later you're asking yourself:

Why do I keep doing this when I know better?

Here's something I wish more women knew:

Knowing differently and living differently are not the same thing.

The woman you've been has had decades of practice.

Being good. Reliable. Sensible. Capable.

Keeping the peace.

Reading the room.

Not asking for too much.

Being the one people can count on.

Those ways of being didn't appear by accident.

At some point, they helped you feel safe, loved or like you belonged.

So of course a part of you gets nervous when you start doing things differently.

Even when the new thing is exactly what you want.

Try this instead

Think of one small thing you already know you want or need.

Now ask:

If I trusted myself just 5% more today, what would I do differently?

Make it tiny.

Say, “Let me think about that.”

Ask for what you actually want.

Don't explain the no.

Take the hour.

Send the message.

Don't send the message.

Close the laptop.

Rest before everything is finished.

And then — if you can — do it.

Not because this tiny action will transform your life.

But because every time you hear yourself and don't leave yourself, you create a new piece of evidence:

I can trust myself to have my own back.

So... where are you stuck?

You may have immediately recognised yourself in one of these.

Or you might be thinking:

Erm. All three?

That's normal.

These aren't personality types. And they're not three stages you graduate from.

We move between them.

Sometimes you need to hear yourself again.

Sometimes you need help separating what feels quietly true from all the fear, expectations and competing voices around it.

And sometimes you know perfectly well what's true — and the work is learning to live it.

That's why my own work takes different forms.

Somatic Movement helps us get out of our heads and back into relationship with ourselves — so we can hear ourselves again.

Clarity Intensives give us space to untangle the different voices, fears and possibilities and recognise what feels true now.

Becoming Whole is the deeper practice of living what we know — understanding the parts of us that pull us back towards old ways of being and learning, little by little, to live as the woman we're becoming.

Different doorways. Same journey home.

And underneath all of them is a question I've become increasingly interested in:

Can I trust myself?

Not:

Can I guarantee I'll make the right decision?

Or:

Can I finally stop being afraid?

Or even:

Can I become confident enough that I never doubt myself again?

But:

Can I hear myself?

Can I believe myself?

And when it matters, can I stay on my own side?

Because self-trust isn't something you have to magically acquire before you can change your life.

It's something you build.

One tiny piece of evidence at a time.

Want to try it?

For the next 3 days, I'll send you one tiny experiment to try in the middle of your actual life.

No homework.

No big life decisions.

And nothing that requires finding 30 quiet minutes and a pristine new notebook you've forgotten you own.

Each takes just a couple of minutes.

Day 1 — Hear yourself

A tiny practice for noticing what's actually happening inside you.

Day 2 — Believe yourself

A way to separate what feels true from the fear, shoulds and competing voices around it.

Day 3 — Have your own back

One small opportunity to act on what you know — and give yourself some evidence that you can.

You won't emerge three days later as a gloriously self-actualised woman who never people-pleases again.

Sorry.

But you might notice something.

And sometimes one small experience of doing things differently is more useful than another year of understanding why you don't.

[SEND ME THE 3-DAY SELF-TRUST EXPERIMENT]

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