

My eldest was playing in the lounge, her little giggles carrying through the room, while my newborn slept nearby. I stood at the sink, tears streaming down my face as I “ugly face” sobbed, and everything seemed impossible.
Only a few months earlier, I had lost my mum while three months pregnant with my second child. The weight of it all was crushing. She was meant to be here, to share in the joy, to hold the baby she had been so excited about; she adored my firstborn. In that moment, grief struck hard with piercing questions I didn't know how to answer: How will my girls ever know her? How will they feel what she felt?
The idea of not seeing her was heart-wrenching.
The answer came slowly, then all at once, undeniable; if my daughters were ever to know her... her deep strength, her love, her knowledge... it had to come through the way I lived, what I taught them, and the energy I carried.
That realisation cracked me open. It demanded that I step up. I did not feel capable or even worthy of achieving this monumental task at her level. I did not feel like I had it in me.
That moment became the blueprint of everything I teach.
I had to start deeply paying attention to what my body needed, to my spirit, my health, and my purpose. It meant creating the woman I wanted my daughters and my son to see.
This work was born out of loss, yes... but also out of love. The kind of love that chooses to transform pain into purpose and create a legacy of strength, vitality, and flow.
Sometimes, the essence we long for can only reach the next generation through us.
Nothing was separate.
Everything was preparing.
_________
My background was in fashion. I had an eye for line, proportion, and the way shapes work together to create something beautiful. That instinct for seeing how disparate elements come together into something cohesive, has never left me. It simply found new forms.
Life layered itself the way life does. I raised a family. I lost my mother while expecting my second child. I navigated a complicated relationship with my father. I became guardian to my brother, a role I held with love for many years... (until I lost him too earlier this year).
I had moved to South Africa with a young family. Through every chapter, I kept returning to the body. To yoga. To the practices that helped me hold what was heavy.
Returning to the UK, I built a thriving practice as a massage therapist. Then came yoga teacher training, not to teach initially, to understand. To go beneath the surface. To learn what was actually happening in the body under every breath, every movement.
When my daughters left for university, I went to study again. A Masters in Architectural Interior Design. My final project brought everything together in a way I hadn't expected, the transformation of a brownfield site into a wellness retreat studio. Taking something broken and abandoned. Reimagining it as a space where people could come home to themselves.
I didn't fully understand then what I was doing. I just followed the pull.
For a long time, I couldn't quite see how it all fitted together. Fashion and wellness. Interior design and coaching. The body and the built environment. The nervous system and the clothes we choose. It felt fragmented, like I was carrying pieces of a picture I couldn't quite assemble.
Then one day, I was being held in a powerful room. The feeling was overwhelming, not in the way I feared. Something settled. In that settling, all the fragments landed as one whole piece.
" The umbrella was coaching, it was all part of becoming the person you are meant to be."
My eldest was playing in the lounge, her little giggles carrying through the room, while my newborn slept nearby. I stood at the sink, tears streaming down my face as I “ugly face” sobbed, and everything seemed impossible.
Only a few months earlier, I had lost my mum while three months pregnant with my second child. The weight of it all was crushing. She was meant to be here, to share in the joy, to hold the baby she had been so excited about; she adored my firstborn. In that moment, grief struck hard with piercing questions I didn't know how to answer: How will my girls ever know her? How will they feel what she felt?
The idea of not seeing her was heart-wrenching.
The answer came slowly, then all at once, undeniable; if my daughters were ever to know her... her deep strength, her love, her knowledge... it had to come through the way I lived, what I taught them, and the energy I carried.
That realisation cracked me open. It demanded that I step up. I did not feel capable or even worthy of achieving this monumental task at her level. I did not feel like I had it in me.
That moment became the blueprint of everything I teach.
I had to start deeply paying attention to what my body needed, to my spirit, my health, and my purpose. It meant creating the woman I wanted my daughters and my son to see.
This work was born out of loss, yes... but also out of love. The kind of love that chooses to transform pain into purpose and create a legacy of strength, vitality, and flow.
Sometimes, the essence we long for can only reach the next generation through us.
My background was in fashion. I had an eye for line, proportion, and the way shapes work together to create something beautiful. That instinct for seeing how disparate elements come together into something cohesive, has never left me. It simply found new forms.
Life layered itself the way life does. I raised a family. I lost my mother while expecting my second child. I navigated a complicated relationship with my father. I became guardian to my brother, a role I held with love for many years... (until I lost him too earlier this year).
I had moved to South Africa with a young family. Through every chapter, I kept returning to the body. To yoga. To the practices that helped me hold what was heavy.
Returning to the UK, I built a thriving practice as a massage therapist. Then came yoga teacher training, not to teach initially, to understand. To go beneath the surface. To learn what was actually happening in the body under every breath, every movement.
When my daughters left for university, I went to study again. A Masters in Architectural Interior Design. My final project brought everything together in a way I hadn't expected, the transformation of a brownfield site into a wellness retreat studio. Taking something broken and abandoned. Reimagining it as a space where people could come home to themselves.
I didn't fully understand then what I was doing. I just followed the pull.
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