Wealth isn't just about how much money you have, it’s how you feel about it. You can have money and still feel poor if guilt, shame, or fear come up every time you spend.
Most of us inherited money stories designed to keep us small, especially women. But money is both technical and psychological, and both can be upgraded. True wealth is about agency, clarity, and rewriting the rules.

Letting go is often seen as weakness, but it's actually a form of power. This week’s newsletter explores the emotional weight of holding onto things, platforms, roles, goals, that no longer serve your future. I share why I decided to shut down my old blog and what I gained in the process. We unpack the difference between quitting and editing, and why clarity sometimes requires subtraction.

After a full season at sea, I took myself on a solo holiday to reconnect. Not to "rest hard" or "biohack recovery", just to wander, sip coffee, notice things. Textures, sounds, colours, moments. Because creativity doesn’t come from grinding, it comes from giving your mind room to breathe. This is your reminder that inspiration lives in space, not in speed.

Today is about creating space, not just to rest, but to reconnect with what lights you up. When your calendar is packed and your brain is overloaded, creativity doesn’t stand a chance. You don’t need more input, you need more quiet. I’m heading on holiday, and I’m using it as a reminder: inspiration shows up when you stop chasing it. Your next big idea might just be waiting in the stillness.

This post is about rejecting the pressure to choose between all your parts. For years, I thought I had to pick one identity, serious or playful, tough or soft, strategist or romantic. But I’ve learned that complexity isn’t a flaw, it’s power. You’re allowed to explore, evolve, and enjoy every side of yourself without needing to justify it. This is your reminder: you don’t have to fit in a box, and you’re allowed to have fun while figuring it out.

There are seasons that demand everything from us, not to break us, but to show us what we’re capable of. I share the story of my PhD as a reminder of what happens when you fully commit. There was no chaos, just discipline, and that discipline gave me a new kind of power. Not all growth comes from balance; some comes from choosing to go all in. And when you stretch your limits, you walk away with proof that you can do hard things.

After a long season at sea, I’m finally back, and resting, intentionally. Rest isn’t a reward for success; it’s a prerequisite for it. True performance is about knowing when to push and when to rebuild. High-achievers often forget that real growth happens in the pauses, not just the hustle. This post is a reminder that rest isn’t weakness, it’s strategy.

I’m flying home after nearly five months at sea. This job gives you a strong identity, and when it ends, it’s hard to know who you are without it. ’ve been reflecting on the difference between the role and the self. The truth is: your identity doesn’t belong to any job, relationship, or chapter. And when something ends, you get to rebuild from who you really are.

In the last three days on Saint Helena, I let go of optimization and embraced spontaneity. I swam at night, climbed stairs in the rain, danced in a random club, and watched the sunrise just because. These moments reminded me that performance isn't just about goals, it's about joy, presence, and feeling alive. Not everything needs to be productive to be powerful. Sometimes the most human thing you can do is just enjoy the damn moment.

You can be high-performing and still get derailed by broken systems. I’m in the Southern Ocean, and I can’t even access my bank accounts. The truth? Most systems aren’t built for people, they’re built for process. And when they fail, you pay the price in time, energy, and mental bandwidth.
Real performance isn’t about pushing harder, it’s about removing friction.

Being at sea reminds me that discipline isn’t about control, it’s about self-respect. When routines slip, it’s easy to feel lost, but structure isn’t the enemy, it’s an anchor. True discipline isn’t rigid, it’s the quiet promise to come back to yourself, even when things are messy. Start small. Recommit gently. Not because you “should”, but because you can.

Feeling stuck between what was and what’s next?
Clarity doesn’t come from overthinking, it comes from movement. Out here, I’m learning that taking imperfect action beats waiting for the perfect plan.
Momentum reveals the path, one step at a time.
So if you’re stuck, stop waiting, and just do the thing.

One month at sea has been a powerful reminder that the ocean doesn’t care about your plans. No matter how well you prepare, conditions shift, and you have to adapt.
What starts as a disruption often turns into the real adventure. Out here, I’ve stopped fighting change and started flowing with it. It’s made me question how often we waste energy clinging to control in our everyday lives.
What if the problem isn’t the detour… but our refusal to see it as the way?

Most people don’t fail because they lack motivation—they fail because they lack systems. A system is simply a repeated set of actions that lead to an outcome, whether in fitness, finances, or daily routines. The problem? Most people don’t design their systems; they just fall into them by accident. Instead of relying on willpower, you need to audit, refine, and build systems that actually work for you. Because goals set direction, but systems create results.

Right now, I’m deep in another adventure, exploring Antarctica, South Georgia, and the Falklands before sailing from Ushuaia to Cape Verde. Out here, life slows down, and everything that once felt urgent disappears. There’s no escaping into distractions—just you, the people around you, and the challenge of navigating relationships in a confined space for two months. It’s raw, sometimes uncomfortable, but it teaches you more about yourself than you’d expect. So, when was the last time you had nowhere to hide, and what did it reveal about you?

Antarctica wasn’t just a place I wanted to visit—it became my lighthouse, guiding every decision I made. Every choice, big or small, was filtered through one question: Does this bring me closer to my goal? The journey to get there changed me more than the destination itself, shaping my resilience, persistence, and willingness to sacrifice. Dreams don’t happen by accident—they happen when you fully commit and let them shape your direction. So ask yourself—are you truly willing to do what it takes, or do you just like the idea of it?

The system wants you broke, unfit, and small—too stressed, too tired, and too conditioned to fight back. But the best rebellion isn’t loud; it’s powerful. You fight back by mastering your money, owning your health, taking up space, and loving yourself unapologetically. Real freedom comes from what you create for yourself, not what the system allows.

Two years after swearing off 10 km swims, I stood on the shore of Lake Taupō, ready to try again. This time, I had a plan, a coach, and a support team. The cold, choppy water tested me, but I trusted my training. When I reached the shore, exhaustion gave way to pride and gratitude. The next day, I returned to the water—not to race, but to say thank you.

Two years after my first 10K swim, I decided to try again—but this time, I prepared. I hired a coach, trained daily, and worked through my fears. With discipline and support, I built resilience, focusing on small, consistent steps. By race day, I was ready to face the challenge fully

Eight years ago, I made a decision over a glass of bubbles: I was going to swim 10 kilometers in open water. I wasn’t a swimmer. The longest I’d swum was 2K, and I had no plan. But I thought, ‘How hard could it be?’
Spoiler: It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.