Why do I make you nervous?

Right now, my life doesn’t look finished.

It doesn’t look secure in the way people usually mean that word. It doesn’t look neatly built or fully formed.

But it feels good.

It feels calm.

It feels honest and that feels new.

I’m content.

I’m focused.

And honestly, I’m happy.

Not in a fireworks, everything-is-perfect way. But in a grounded, steady way. The kind that lives in your body rather than bouncing around your head.

I feel free.

I feel excited.

I feel positive about what’s coming.

So why is that making people nervous?

When I talk about starting again.

Building something from scratch.

Letting go of the old structure before the new one is fully formed.

I can see it land in people.

Sometimes as concern.

Sometimes as disbelief.

Sometimes as quiet discomfort.

I’m never quite sure whether people are unsettled because they are genuinely worried about me… or because my choices mirror something in them they haven’t let themselves look at yet.

Because from the inside, this doesn’t feel scary.

It feels clean. It feels honest. It feels good.

I’m not pretending it’s easy. I’m not pretending there isn’t uncertainty. There is. Of course there is.

But there is a big difference between uncertainty that drains you and uncertainty that opens you.

This one feels like possibility.

Since I last wrote, life has already started to meet me differently.

I filmed a new episode of Make It At Market. Standing back in that environment, doing what I do, creating, problem solving, being in my element, felt like a quiet reminder of who I am when I’m not carrying the wrong things.

I also ran a women’s retreat on Dartmoor with my friend Sara who runs Breathways and it honestly moved me more than I expected.

We did something that hasn’t really been done in that way before. We worked with women who needed a reset. Women who were tired, overwhelmed, stuck, or standing on the edge of something new. Women with ideas. With businesses. With whispers of change. But no clarity, no space, no structure to hear themselves think.

Coming home from Dartmoor after the Creative Camp Weekender felt different to anything I’ve experienced before.

That weekend was the first full project I had set myself since changing my life. The first thing I had built from the ground up in this new chapter. And when it was over, I didn’t just feel relieved. Or proud. Or accomplished.

I felt alive.

I felt like I had found my place.

Standing there hugging those women at the end. Women who had arrived as strangers and were leaving as something else entirely. After a weekend of safety, honesty, laughter, tears, cold water, heat, breath, creativity, conversations you can’t rehearse and connections you can’t manufacture.

There was something in that space that’s hard to explain unless you were in it. The kind of togetherness that doesn’t come from networking or small talk. It comes from being real in a room where no one is pretending.

As I held them, one by one, I had this overwhelming sense that everything I have lived, every hard decision, every ending, every uncomfortable season, every rebuild, every lonely stretch has led me here.

To this.

To sharing my journey while helping other women reconnect to theirs.

To creating spaces where people feel safe enough to soften and brave enough to shift.

To doing work that doesn’t just look good on paper but feels true in my body.

I remember thinking, very clearly, very simply:

I feel fucking great that I did this.

Not because it was perfect.

But because it was real.

Because it was mine.

Because it worked.

And because it showed me, in the most visceral way, that this new chapter isn’t theoretical anymore.

It’s happening.

We created space.

Not just for rest.

But for honesty.

For vision.

For uncomfortable but necessary conversations.

For guidance.

For movement forward.

Watching women soften, open up, get clear, cry, laugh, breathe, and start to see their lives differently was one of the strongest confirmations I’ve had so far that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

Not because everything is built.

But because everything is aligned.

There is a huge difference.

I’m not chasing noise anymore.

I’m not rushing to fill every gap.

I’m not needing things to look impressive.

I’m building something that feels like me.

My days feel intentional.

My energy feels cleaner.

My nervous system feels calmer and that changes everything.

I’m not driven by proving.

I’m driven by creating.

I’m not fuelled by fear.

I’m fuelled by curiosity.

I’m not clinging to outcomes.

I’m focused on foundations.

I still don’t have all the answers. But I trust myself to find them and that trust is new. That’s not something I had before.

Starting again has stripped life back to the essentials.

What matters.

What drains me.

What grows me.

Who feels good to be around.

What my body needs.

What my mind needs.

What I’m no longer available for.

There is a quiet power in being at the beginning of something with clarity instead of chaos and that’s where I am. So, if what you're reading here every week lands with you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable please enlighten me as to why? 

 

Same person.

New chapter.

x