In a big family, it was easy to fade into the background. I became the one who made things easier, the one who stayed calm, the one who quietly carried what others didn’t want to feel. I began to over-function. To smile when I wanted to cry. To focus on others’ needs while burying my own. I became very good at sensing what was expected and even better at adapting to meet it.

My emotions learned to live in my muscles, my gut, and the tension behind my smile.

By my forties, I looked capable and happy on the outside. I knew how to hold space for others, how to manage the day-to-day, how to keep everything moving. But inside, something was missing. There was a quiet ache I couldn’t name, a sense that parts of me had been left behind. The emotions I had tucked away long ago hadn’t vanished. They were still there, alive beneath the surface, quietly waiting for permission to return. Waiting for breath. For softness. For a moment, it would be safe to come home.

Then I met my greatest teacher:

my own body

In 2016, my body began to speak in a way I could no longer ignore. It started with tension, subtle at first, then insistent. A pulling in my shoulders. A fatigue that rest couldn’t ease. An ache that felt emotional, though no clear story came with it. The signals grew louder until they shaped my everyday. By the time fibromyalgia was named, I already sensed this was more than physical. It was a call.

A call to remember everything I had buried in order to cope. The grief that hadn’t been given space. The truths I had softened to stay connected. A quiet knowing that something needed to shift, not in a dramatic way, but deep in the tissue of my being.

That shift came slowly, and it came with loss. During this time, I said goodbye to my mother. Her passing brought a grief so vast it moved through my whole system. It didn’t just touch my heart. It moved through my bones, my breath, and my sense of place in the world. It opened something raw. And in that rawness, I began to feel more truthfully than I ever had before.

Grief didn’t take me apart. It brought me into contact. It showed me what mattered. It softened the armour I hadn’t realised I was carrying. And it invited me to meet myself, not in the version I had performed, but in the quiet truth that had always lived underneath.

For years, I tried to keep pace with a world built on speed and striving. I told myself I just needed more drive, more energy, more resilience. But something always felt slightly off. My rhythm moved differently. Then Human Design found me in 2019. And with it came the first real exhale.

Projector. Quad Right. Splenic Authority.

Each word felt like a door opening. I wasn’t here to chase. I was here to guide. To see deeply. To wait for the right invitation and let instinct lead. As I began honouring rest, my energy returned. As I released the need to keep up, something inside me softened. My rhythm started to feel true again.

Human Design gave me the map. The Gene Keys gave me the melody. It all began to weave together. Each pain, each pause, each pattern in relating became part of the story that now helps me hold space for others and myself with reverence.

My healing wasn’t a plan. It was a personal rescue, a return to safety, softness, and self. The modalities that supported me began to weave together into something deeper. Human Design became a mirror. The Gene Keys became prayer. Acutonics tuned my nervous system like an instrument, and ContactCare taught me to listen to the unspoken places that had waited decades to soften. As I explored Hypnosis, Imago Therapy, EFT, somatic work, and nervous system repair, everything began to speak the same language.

There is a rhythm already alive in you. Your body remembers. Your system knows how to come home.

What once felt like fragments began to form something whole. The fibromyalgia, the heartbreak, the loss, the emotional collapse each became part of a map. Not to transcend this life, but to embody it more fully. To restore inner safety. To relate again, gently, from the inside out. This is how my work was born: through lived experience, deep study, and reverence for the body, for the process, and for the remembering we do together.

There’s no right place to begin. Some arrive in the middle of grief. Some come with a physical ache they can’t explain. Some are simply tired of holding it all together. Others come as a couple, wondering how to reconnect, how to soften the walls, how to feel seen again. Whether you’re moving through a threshold or sensing one ahead, you are welcome here.

This work is an invitation to remember what is already wise within you. To relate again from the body, from the breath, from truth that feels safe to speak. I work with individuals and couples from my home on the Kapiti Coast in New Zealand, either in person or remotely. My space is sacred, gentle, and tuned to what your system is ready for.

You can begin with the Heal by Design Quiz, a complimentary 15-minute call, or by booking a one-on-one or couples session. Whatever the path, it begins in presence. There is nothing to prove here. Only something to remember. And you are already whole.