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Deals that look done can vanish overnight, and the silence that follows can rattle your confidence. I share the unvarnished story of trying to sell my retail store three times, paying for fresh legal packs and profit and loss statements, and being ghosted at the death knock. When the numbers stopped making sense and the joy had already left the building, I chose to close, carry the lease, and fight for a transfer. After false starts and corporate landlord hurdles, a Pilates studio finally took over — and the relief was immediate.

Behind the spreadsheets sat something bigger: an identity unspooling. I’d been the buyer and merchant for years, certain on the shop floor and quick on decisions. Letting go pulled me into a midlife reset shaped by sobriety, changing values, and the need to feel rather than outrun grief. That’s where burnout crept in. I had joined masterminds — some genuinely supportive — but also found myself in rooms selling bro marketing shortcuts and “10k months” timelines. The highlights praised wins from people in different markets, and I slipped into comparison, doubled down on perfectionism, and worked harder without gaining traction.

I dig into what helped me step out of that spiral: filtering advice by business model, capacity, and season; choosing fewer, better actions; and redefining success beyond other people’s dashboards. I’ve shifted my creative focus to Instagram at Sparkle underscore sisterhood, back to community, play, and content that exists because it’s fun. Interviews are on the horizon via Instagram Live, a calm fit for my current bandwidth. If you’re navigating small business pressure, rising rents, and the myth of instant growth, this story offers practical relief and a reminder that closing a chapter can be a strategic win, not a loss.

If the journey resonates, follow along, share this with a friend who needs the sanity check, and hit follow or subscribe. Your reviews and messages keep this space real — what hard choice are you glad you made?

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A lighthouse walk, a twisted ankle, and a coffee cup of ice shouldn’t be a life lesson—but that small crack revealed a bigger story about ignoring signals until the body shuts everything down. We open up about a year of pushing through gastro, sciatica, and sinus infections, only to land in a deep, disorienting burnout that made getting out of bed feel impossible. What looked like resilience was really overdrive, and what felt like discipline turned out to be depletion.

Across this candid conversation, we map the slippery slope from high-functioning stress to total crash. We talk through the perfectionism that kept us hustling, the guilt that kept us from resting, and the overwhelm that narrowed our world. We also unpack the practical side of getting help—how therapy revealed old patterns, why naming depression reduced shame, and what it’s like to navigate long psychiatry waitlists while trying to review antidepressant medication with a GP. It’s raw, sometimes wry, and deeply human.

Most of all, we get specific about recovery. Micro-rests. Slower walks. Shorter lists. Letting imperfect be enough. Listening to tight jaws and clenched bellies before they turn into a siren. This is midlife mental health, nervous system care, and burnout recovery in real life—not a checklist, but a kinder rhythm. If you’ve ever pushed past pain or called exhaustion “normal,” this story offers a map back to yourself. Press play, then tell us: what sign from your body are you ready to honour today? Subscribe, share with a friend who needs it, and leave a quick review to help others find the show.

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Grief can sneak up on you in the quiet after the routines end. When the youngest finishes school and the oldest turns 30, the house feels different, the weekends lose their map, and you start to ask, who am I now that no one needs me at the sidelines? I share the real, unpolished story of how those milestones pulled hidden threads—old Bathurst memories, a brush with postnatal depression, and the sting of feeling invisible—and how naming them helped me find steadier ground.

We explore the subtle losses that come with midlife: the vanishing school drop-offs, the end of team sport Sundays, and the social glue of familiar faces. A 30th birthday at Pearl Beach brings pride and a surprising ache as childhood friends return as partners and parents. Digitising old VHS tapes turns into a time machine, making joy and melancholy sit side by side. Then a TV snippet of Bathurst reopens 1995, reminding me that trauma doesn’t need to be capital T to carve deep grooves. With support, I learned to call it what it was and to let grief be part of growth, not a sign of failure.

This is a raw, solo passion project—no producers, no music, just honest reflection about depression, identity shifts, and the search for purpose when motherhood changes shape. I talk through practical ways to rebuild structure and community, from small rituals to creative work that restores agency. If you’ve wondered where you fit once the routines fade, you’ll find language here for what hurts and what heals, and gentle steps toward feeling seen again.

If this resonates, follow the show so you get notified when new episodes drop, share it with someone who might need it, and email me your questions or topics you want me to cover. Your stories help us all find our midlife sparkle.