There’s a reason why…

The air was thick with heat and the fragrance of earth and sweat.

A member of Mugabe’s secret police is sprawled at the edge of the workshop I’m leading. His eyes are tired, bloodshot and disinterested. He’s smoking, wearing a black leather jacket despite the intense morning heat.

I stood under the shade of a banda in Zimbabwe, in 2008, looking out at a sea of bright, intelligent eyes.

We were deep in conversation about the limitations placed on women—how the culture and the structures around them seemed to keep their potential shackled.

“What needs to change for women to have more opportunities?” I asked, my voice cutting through the weight of the moment.

There was a chorus of dissatisfied clicks, heads shaking in unison. These women weren’t victims—they were resilient, teaching each other to sew, to sell, to survive—but there was still an overwhelming sense of impossibility.

“We can’t. It’s just our culture,” one woman finally said. Her words echoed in my mind for years.

That phrase stuck with me. It wasn’t just about Zimbabwe; it was about all of us. We tell ourselves stories—about what we can and cannot do, about what’s “just the way it is.” These stories are cultural, personal, deeply ingrained. But I’ve always been one to question things.

For years, I worked in East Africa, speaking Swahili, settled my family there, long enough that the Tanzanian way became my ‘new normal.’ I was no longer a stranger. I saw behind the curtain that is so often drawn for outsiders. I was close enough to feel the heartbeat of the culture but still distant enough to ask the difficult questions, the ones nobody asks when they’re too embedded in the system.

When I returned to the UK, it felt strange. The rush, the disconnection, the way we break the ice by complaining. The "hustle" was everywhere. “Sorry I’m late, I just...” The same stories, in a different place. Women here were juggling impossible expectations, always pushing, always feeling like they weren’t enough.

“It’s just our culture.”

But I knew that wasn’t true. I had seen, up close, how culture, how stories, can shape our lives—and how much power we truly have to rewrite them.

I could see what was happening to women in the West. How we had lost sight of our true power. We’ve been told that success looks like overwork, burnout, and constant striving. But it doesn’t. We have far more potential than we’ve been led to believe.

So I got to work. I trained, I honed my skills, I built an incredible toolkit. And now, I’m here to help women rewrite their stories.

There’s a better way to live. One that doesn’t involve burning out. It’s a way of living that feels good, that connects you back to yourself, your joy, and your purpose.

And it works. I’ve seen it change lives. I’ve seen it change mine.

The answer isn’t in a better planner, a new routine, or a perfectly streamlined life. It’s not about waking up earlier, working harder, or finally getting ‘on top of things.’ Because the real weight you’re carrying isn’t your to-do list—it’s the centuries-old stories of what it means to be a ‘good woman,’ a ‘selfless mother,’ a ‘successful professional.’ Stories designed to keep you small, exhausted, and always proving your worth.

But you don’t have to live by those rules anymore.

If any part of this story resonates—if you’ve felt the weight of expectations, the exhaustion of proving yourself, or the quiet knowing that there must be a better way—you’re not alone. And you don’t have to figure it out on your own.

It’s time to rewrite your story.

If you’ve been pushing through exhaustion, feeling like there’s never enough time, energy, or space for you—know this: it doesn’t have to be this way.

You don’t have to keep running on empty.

You can live with more clarity, more ease, and more energy for what truly matters.

Let’s talk about what that could look like for you.

Book a free discovery call—a gentle space to explore what’s possible. No pressure, just possibility.