As a 20-year-old starting my career in the events industry, the chaos and deadlines felt like home. It wasn’t long before I became a business partner, and by my early 30s, I had done what many would describe as “making it.” In 2017, I launched my own lifestyle management business, Organise.Curate.Design. a business built on structure, systems, and aesthetics. From the outside, it looked polished, purposeful, and successful.
But behind the scenes, I was burning out.
What I didn’t realise then was that I was a high-functioning trauma survivor. The hustle wasn’t just about ambition, it was about survival. Every perfectly colour-coded planner, every late-night email, every new client booked was another way to distract myself and the world from the pain I hadn’t yet faced. I had spent years curating a version of success that was built to protect me from vulnerability and from the risk of being truly seen.
Eventually, my nervous system tapped out. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was emotional and spiritual. And in the quiet that followed, I had to confront a truth I’d been avoiding for years: I didn’t actually know who I was outside of the doing.
Cracks in the foundation
Before anything collapsed, there was a rumble.
It wasn’t dramatic at first, just a quiet, persistent feeling that something beneath me was shifting. Like the foundation I’d built my perfect life on was no longer steady. It showed up in small but telling ways: poor sleep, constant exhaustion, the creeping disinterest in the self-care practices I used to preach. I was going through the motions, booking the massage, seeing the specialist, but I was treating symptoms, not the source.
My motivation dropped, not because I didn’t care, but because I was tired of chasing a version of myself that never felt like enough. I was starting to see how the overachieving was a mask, how success had become a safe place to hide.
The real turning point wasn’t a breakdown, it was a slow shift in consciousness. I stopped asking ‘what do I need to do to feel better?’ and started asking, ‘who do I want to be?’ That question changed everything. It brought me back into the present, into a life I could actually live now, not one I was constantly striving toward.
Living with, not in spite of
If there’s one truth I’ve come to live by, it’s this: Tomorrow isn’t promised. And if I didn’t want to keep waking up in a life shaped by trauma and the need to control, then I had to start breaking the cycle today. Not someday. Not when things “settled down.” Now.
I used to believe that healing meant getting over my trauma. That one day I’d reach some clean, healed version of myself and everything would feel effortless and light. But the reality is, I will carry my trauma with me forever. It’s part of me. What’s changed is my relationship with it.
I stopped fighting myself. I stopped trying to push it all down and push through. Instead, I learned how to move with it. To notice when I was acting from a place of fear or hyper-independence and when I was rooted in purpose and clarity. That shift, choosing to live in the now instead of hustling toward some hypothetical healed future, freed me up to focus on the micro moments. To really be in my life.
That’s when I started to see the difference between showing up as a high-functioning trauma survivor and showing up as a woman truly connected to her purpose. And the more I paid attention, the more I could tell when I was operating from alignment and when I was just trying to survive.
Living from the inside out
Today, purpose looks and feels very different.
It’s not about chasing titles or proving anything to anyone. It’s not a grand declaration that I’m here to change the world or become the next wellness guru. For me, purpose is a quiet, steady knowing of who I am and the power I have in choosing how I show up each day.
I know my values now. Purpose. Integrity. Gratitude. Care. And I’ve built a life that honours them, not just in the big, shiny moments but in the everyday rhythms that keep me well.
Breathwork grounds me. I prioritise sleep, eat well, move my body, and stay connected to my loved ones and community; all of it supports my nervous system and keeps me present.
Some days, that means tending to myself gently and without apology. On others, it means showing up fully for my family, my clients, and the survivors I support in my work. I don’t wait for my cup to be overflowing every day, but I trust myself to know when it’s time to give and when it’s time to refill.
That’s what purpose looks like now. Rooted. Real. And mine to define.
From surviving to living
You are more than what has happened to you.
Yes, trauma may always be part of your story, but it doesn’t have to be the whole story. While it can feel daunting to admit that we carry these experiences for life, there’s also something incredibly powerful in accepting that they are ours. We get to decide how we live with them, how we show up, and who we want to be.
You have the power to shape your identity, not just through what you achieve but in how you care for yourself, how you speak to yourself, and how you move through the world. This isn’t about crossing off tasks or climbing ladders. It’s about living with intention. Not someday, not when things slow down or finally make sense, but now.
Your story is made up of lived experiences: big and small, painful and beautiful. And only you get to choose if you’re ready to stop surviving and start truly living.
Not perfectly. Not all at once. But on your terms. Because a meaningful life isn’t built in the hustle. It’s built in the choosing – moment by moment, breath by breath.
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