Built a world. Left it behind. Finding out what’s underneath.
I don’t remember life before the illness.
Twenty years of chronic fatigue, endless gut issues. A body that never quite worked the way it should.
I was a sworn perfectionist, with much to prove and more to hide. Terrified of the rooms I was walking into, quite skilled at not showing it.
None of that was going to stop me. So I stuffed it all down and moved to Asia, convinced I was running towards something.
Scaled an agency group to $10M across eight countries, hired hundreds of people and learned to hold a boardroom – all the while pretending I wasn’t falling apart.
After years ignoring a body screaming no more, I finally listened.
It was far from a graceful exit – businesses wound down, bankruptcy followed.
So did an overwhelming sense of relief.
There was no reason left to perform. I was free, at peace. And left with a slightly uncomfortable question.
Who are you when no-one’s looking?
For years, the answer had been whoever the drinking and the drugs let me be.
Now it was time for the real work.
Acupuncture, ice baths, breathwork, hypnotherapy, energy healing, somatic work. Peruvian shamans and jungle juice.
Countless hours cross-legged, watching my thoughts from the living room floor.
And the ocean, the one teacher who stuck with me through it all.
Along the way, a discovery arrived to reframe everything I’d spent my life fighting.
Turns out I’m not broken. Just wired differently.
The desire to create slowly crept back too – the guitar and late-night studio sessions of my youth making way for afternoons of flute and didgeridoo in the park.
But maybe the biggest return has been finding my voice. Softening my grip on the one that kept me safe in boardrooms, and making space for the truer voice underneath.
After decades spent masterfully getting in my own way, now I help others get out of theirs.
