Have you ever watched a toddler take their first steps? It's a wobbly, triumphant moment filled with intense concentration and a whole lot of falling. But did you know that this seemingly simple act is a testament to the incredible learning power of the young human brain?

I've had a profound realisation lately, like peeling back a layer of my life and seeing the intricate gears and levers that drive everything. It's both simple and complex, hidden in plain sight until now: the undeniable truth of how my childhood wounds have shaped everything I do – every decision, every reaction.

We all carry wounds from childhood, no matter how idyllic or challenging our upbringing. These experiences leave us with beliefs about the world and the emotions attached to them, guiding our every move. Let me share some of mine, and how they've played out:

I challenge the traditional narratives around ADHD and dyslexia. In my experience, those labelled with these conditions often possess remarkable brilliance. While labels can offer understanding and validation, they can also create limiting beliefs.

Take ADHD, for example. I recently saw a post from someone diagnosed with it who effortlessly organised festivals but struggled with paperwork. Is this truly a deficit of attention? And dyslexia? I've met countless dyslexic individuals who are incredibly creative. Shouldn't this be celebrated, not labelled as a lack of ability?

I've long struggled with the concept of success. Like many, I've battled the misconception that success is measured by wealth. This led me to play small, never daring to dream big, fearing the "horrible rich person" stereotype.

My true desire was always to make a difference, to be heard. But that meant becoming "successful," a word that carried baggage and often didn't align with my values.

Spelling tests, word lists, and rote memorization – they're all part of traditional spelling instruction. But do they really reflect how we learn to spell? My son's recent comment sparked an interesting thought: what if learning to spell is more organic than we think?

He was typing away on his computer, effortlessly stringing together words that hadn't been on any spelling list. When I asked how he knew how to spell them, he simply said, "I just know." 

This got me thinking.

Children are naturally captivated by the present moment. The crashing wave, the intricate shell, the curious footprint—each detail draws their unwavering focus. As parents and educators, our vision extends beyond the immediate, allowing us to glimpse a wider horizon of possibilities.

Our role isn't to shield children from the waves of experience, but to help them navigate them. We can point out the approaching swells, offering guidance and support when they inevitably crash. Through their own encounters, children learn to brace for impact, building resilience and understanding that's unmarred by our own past fears.

Have you ever signed up for something with the best of intentions, only to find yourself stuck in the same old routine?  Maybe it's a mindfulness challenge, a new workout plan, or even just a promise to yourself to slow down. We've all been there.

I once led a seven-day mindfulness challenge, and it was a familiar story.  Out of 100 people who signed up, only a handful started, and none made it past day two. In the past, I might have taken this personally, but now I understand.  It's human nature to crave change, but it's also human nature to resist it.

Have you ever noticed how your senses – the way you see, hear, smell, taste, and touch – can transport you back in time?  A familiar scent, a certain sound, and suddenly you're reliving a past experience, complete with all the emotions that came with it.

For me, it was the smell of smoke. It didn't matter if it was a bonfire or a burnt piece of toast, my mind would instantly flash back to a Christmas morning when I was four years old. A rogue candle had set our tree ablaze, filling our home with fear and disappointment. As an adult, that same scent would trigger a strange emotional cocktail, leaving me feeling like a scared little girl trapped in a grown woman's body.

Have you ever felt frustrated when your child struggles to learn something new? The education system often labels these struggles as "learning difficulties," but what if this is a misconception?

In my years of working with children, I've never met a child who truly finds learning difficult. Children are natural learners, absorbing information every day. Our role as adults is to observe where they are in their development and facilitate their journey forward.

Yesterday, my body woke up before my mind did. An ache, a draining fatigue—these weren't just physical ailments. Experience has taught me they're whispers from my inner self, signals of deeper unrest. Instead of resisting, I leaned in. I tuned into the discomfort, the sluggishness, asking not "Why am I sick?" but "What are you trying to tell me?"

What emerged was surprising—a wave of sadness, a bitter taste of regret. It was directed towards a younger me: the one who stayed silent out of fear, the one who endured a toxic relationship because it seemed easier than fighting back. The one who let her children witness that pain.

Just a few years ago, my life felt like a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and sacrifice. I was the tireless provider for my family, neglecting my own needs in the process. When I finally reached my breaking point and asked for help from the person nearest to me, the response was far from supportive.

Yes, I acknowledge my role in creating this situation. I had inadvertently taught my partner that I was the sole breadwinner, and when I had nothing left to give, neither did he. The realisation that I needed to leave my home to change the dynamics of our relationship was a difficult one, but it was also a turning point.

Have you ever felt stuck, like you're watching your dreams from a safe distance, too afraid to chase them? I've learned a powerful lesson: we can't create our desired future from a place of fear.

When fear and anxiety take over, we focus on survival. Some hunker down, close off, and become the proverbial mouse in its hole, only peeking out to spot danger. From this place, we react rather than act. We create self-fulfilling prophecies based on perceived threats, trapping ourselves in a cycle of anxiety.  Others distract themselves with a busy-ness that leads nowhere.

Every morning, I face a crossroads – quite literally. It's a choice between left or right, a decision as simple as it is profound. This seemingly mundane choice has become my daily ritual, a way to reconnect with my intuition and set the tone for my day.

Why does this matter? Because it's about more than just a direction; it's about tuning into the subtle signals my body sends. This morning, like many others, my mind craved the familiar path to the cafe on the left. Yet, when I looked that way, I noticed a subtle tightening in my stomach. A quick glance to the right brought an instant smile to my face.

I've always been a proponent of awareness being the first step toward change. But lately, I've realised there's a crucial distinction to make: awareness of what?

When we find ourselves in undesirable circumstances, awareness is undoubtedly necessary. We need to acknowledge our situation before we can even attempt to change it. However, there are two types of awareness we can cultivate, and only one truly propels us forward.

Have you ever felt like a puppet, your strings pulled by an unseen force? This force isn't supernatural; it's your shadow self, a collection of deeply ingrained beliefs and behaviours formed in response to childhood experiences.

My shadow takes many forms, echoing patterns programmed into me. It's the part of me that clings to unhealthy relationships, seeks escape through work (or avoids it entirely), and fixates on external validation. Often, I mistake my shadow for my true self.

Have you ever found yourself trapped in a cycle of anger? Angry at the world, at circumstances beyond your control? Maybe it's technology leaving you behind, political frustrations, or even the grocery store. I've been there. Stewing in resentment, letting it bleed into my relationships and work. But what if that anger, that tension, could be a catalyst for something better?

In this post, we'll explore how to shift from being angry to being empowered. We'll delve into the futility of fighting the uncontrollable and discover how to channel that energy into creating a life that truly serves us. We all experience frustration, but what if we could transform it into a force for good? Let's dive in.

It was a jolt to my system as a mom. Hearing my 10-year-old son utter the words, "I just can't! I've got sooo much to do! And I don't know how I'm going to get it all done!" sent chills down my spine.

Those words... they were my words. The ones I'd muttered in desperation countless times before. I had unwittingly taught my son this response – a knee-jerk reaction to stress and overwhelm.

I absolutely love it when my worlds collide! Not in a chaotic, crash-bang kind of way (though those can lead to growth too), but in the magical moments when seemingly separate interests and curiosities suddenly converge. It's like a symphony of ideas harmonising, inviting me to dive deeper into the enchanting melody of interconnectedness.

This delightful convergence is a welcome contrast to the disarray of the past couple of years. Recently, I've felt a strong pull towards exploring essential oils. After three failed attempts, I finally connected with my friend Johanna and dove into the fragrant world of diffusers and starter kits. (I'm still a newbie, but Johanna's a fantastic guide!)

Have you ever felt stuck, like you're living life on a well-worn path with limited visibility? It's a common experience, rooted in the belief that our potential exists only within a certain radius of where we are now. But what if that's not true? What if there's a whole universe of possibilities waiting beyond that self-imposed circle of comfort?

Have you ever noticed how some people always seem to have accidents, while others never get so much as a scratch? Or maybe you know someone who's been mistreated in every relationship they've ever had. What's going on here? Is it just bad luck?

While it may be tempting to blame external forces for our misfortunes, the truth is that we often play a far more significant role in shaping our lives than we realise This isn't about blaming victims – abuse is never okay, and perpetrators are always responsible for their actions.