For over 20 years, I poured everything into my previous business - a brand I founded with my husband and built from the ground up.
I wore every hat, made every sacrifice, and carried the weight of it all on my shoulders - even when it started to crumble. Juggling the competing demands of motherhood, marriage and the business took its toll on me. I was exhausted, anxious, and losing sleep. We found ourselves trying desperately to sell a business I wasn’t emotionally ready to let go of. Deep down, I knew something had to give. But I didn’t expect it all to collapse at once.
When circumstances outside of my control forced a quick sale, the dreams my husband and I had built - retiring early with plans to fulfil our philanthropic vision - all vanished. Suddenly, I wasn’t just letting go of a business. I was selling our family home. I was holding my teenage daughters together, one of them studying for the HSC, while quietly falling apart inside.
There were moments I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Fear, shame, uncertainty - it wasn’t day by day. It was moment by moment. I’d spent two decades building a business, but when it ended, I didn’t feel like an expert in anything. I feared I’d never be employable again.
And yet, this was the beginning of a journey that would change the very fabric of who I am. A journey I never thought I’d have to embark on in my fifties.
With nothing left to cling to, I went back to basics. I started with my breath. Conscious breathwork, cold showers, ice baths - anything to ground me in the moment and give me a sense of control. I got help. I leaned into support. I realised I couldn’t pour from an empty cup, so I began slowly tending to my body, mind and spirit.
I focused on sleep, nutrition, hydration, movement. I created simple rhythms: get outside, breathe deeply, move my body, write my thoughts, speak affirmations. It wasn’t a grand plan - just small, sacred rituals that began to rebuild my nervous system, my strength and my confidence.
And I prayed. I journaled. I cried. I asked, ‘What is this moment trying to teach me?’
As I softened, little miracles started to show up.
One night, in the height of the uncertainty, I met with a woman named Michelle. I was seeking advice, trying to salvage what I could. That night neither of us could sleep. The next morning, she texted me: “Is it too soon to say… I want you to come and work with me?”
That message marked the beginning of a profound new chapter.
We sold the house to a beautiful family and moved into a new space that felt like a fresh start. I said yes to new opportunities. I started again. And slowly, I found my rhythm. My joy. My purpose.
Why I’m Telling You This
Because you don’t need to lose everything to realise that you matter.
You don’t need to hit rock bottom before you start taking care of yourself.
There’s no medal for burnout. No prize for putting yourself last. For ignoring your intuition. For being too busy fixing everyone else while you’re quietly falling apart.
When you stop checking in and asking, “What do I need right now?” - you stop listening to yourself. That’s when things start to unravel.
I don’t want that for you.
What I’ve learned is this: rebuilding starts with the smallest of steps. Graceful steps. Hydrate. Breathe. Move. Write. Rest. Stack the habits like stones and watch a new foundation emerge.
When I go off the rails now, I don’t punish myself. I return to the basics. I remember I’m worthy of care - not just when things fall apart, but every single day.
Moment by moment, I transformed my perception of self-care - from one of guilt and perceived selfishness, to one of empowerment and self-love.
It’s how I turned my life around. It’s how I found myself again.
And that’s what I want to help others do now.