Finding Myself Again

A journey through illness, womanhood, and becoming.

I’ve carried this story quietly for a long time. Not because I wanted to hide it, but because I wasn’t ready to give it words. Healing has a way of revealing who we are beneath everything we do — and this chapter of my life taught me more about womanhood, resilience, and self-connection than I ever knew before. Today, I’m finally ready to share it.

My Story

Seven years ago, life cracked open in a way I never expected. I was 38 — a mum to a baby, a teenager, and a young adult — holding our family together while my husband served in the navy. Though he wasn’t away at sea at that time, the rhythm of military life meant years of finding balance while he was gone for long stretches, then finding it again when he returned.

When breast cancer arrived, that old strength — the one built from years of “keep calm and carry on” — came out in full force. Between hospital corridors and bedtime stories, I learned to live one breath at a time. I went through surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy and hormone therapy, all while maintaining a sense of normality for my children and trying to be the anchor of our home.

When your main support is away for months at a time, you learn how to hold life with both hands — the love, the responsibility, the rhythm of home. Being that grounding presence for my family felt natural to me, something I genuinely cherished. And yet, even with all the love woven through it, there was a lot I carried quietly. Those tender; resilient coping patterns became the ones that I leaned on when illness came.

Two years after finishing hormone therapy, my body spoke again. I’d been asking for help for months as strange, frightening symptoms appeared, but I was told it was nothing. Eventually, an emergency MRI revealed a benign tumour and a sack of fluid the size of a lemon pressing on my brain. Within days, I was in surgery. Then another hospital stay. Then recovery — again.

But this time, those old coping strategies didn’t work. “Head down and carry on” had no place in brain surgery recovery. I had to surrender. To stop surviving and start listening. Healing became an invitation to presence — to feel, to rest, to soften, to receive.

Now, at 45, I look back and see a woman who has walked through fire and learned to find stillness within it. This journey has been lonely, humbling, and sacred all at once. But through it, I’ve learned that healing isn’t about returning to who you were before — it’s about becoming the woman your soul always knew you could be.

I’m still finding my way, still learning to hear my body’s whispers before they become screams. But I’m here — present, softer, wiser, and deeply grateful.

To any woman walking through her own storm — please know this: You are not broken. You are becoming.

Thank you for holding space for my words. This journey has shaped every part of who I am today — as a woman, a mother, and a practitioner. It taught me to listen deeply, to soften where I once braced, and to honour the quiet wisdom within my own body. If any part of my story touches something inside you, please know you don’t have to walk your path alone. You are welcome here, just as you are.

Why I’m Sharing This Now

I’m sharing this now because my work is evolving, and I want women to understand the heart that guides it. My lived experience — the illness, the surrender, the rebuilding — is the foundation of the space I now hold for others. As my business grows into deeper embodiment coaching, energy healing, counselling, and mind–body connection work, it feels important to share where that passion was born. This story is how I found my way home to myself, and that journey is woven into the heart of the work I share with others.