Some stories are shaped slowly.
Not with fanfare. Not with neat chapters. But with quiet resilience stitched into the days you barely got through.
This is mine.
I went through a divorce while I was pregnant.
Carrying new life while watching the old one fall apart.
My world shifted under my feet before I even had the chance to hold my daughter in my arms.
And just as I started to find my way as a mother, I lost mine.
My Mum passed away from cancer when Khushi was only two and a half.
The grief was sharp, unrelenting. The kind that leaves you hollow and motherless in more ways than one.
A year later, I lost our home.
At 3.5, Khushi watched me pack our life into boxes, her little fingers trying to understand what mine couldn’t explain.
When she turned four, we left everything familiar behind and moved to the UK.
A new country. A new start.
From living in a house full of family in Norway to just the two of us, me and her, in a new land, learning how to survive all over again.
I put my life on hold.
Everything that wasn’t urgent was tucked away, dreams, desires, softness. I became her anchor, her provider, her protector.
But what no one saw was that I was raising myself, too.
Through every bedtime story, every packed lunch, every silent tear cried,
I was becoming the woman I needed.
In 2014, I stepped into the world of coaching.
Not just to guide others, but to heal myself.
To peel back the layers of trauma, shame, fear and grief.
To meet the little girl inside me who had never been held the way she needed.
To mother her. To father her. To become a home for her.
I faced the wounds I had carried silently for years,
The ache of the mother wound.
The absence of the father wound.
The belief that I had to do it all alone… and then learning, piece by piece, that I could.
That journey is still unfolding.
Healing isn’t a finish line; it’s a way of living.
But somewhere along the way, I became the woman I once needed.
I became the soft voice, the safe place, the steady ground.
I became that person for others because I never had her for myself.
And in doing so, I built something sacred.
Not just a life.
But a legacy of healing.
So when people ask who raised me,
The answer is simple.
I did.
While raising my daughter,
I raised myself.
Feeling a bit lost in the noise? You don’t need to figure it all out on your own. My Daily Chat Support is your gentle check-in, your sounding board, your safe place to land. For the days you’re navigating big feelings, small wins, or just need someone to say, “I see you.” Midlife isn’t meant to be walked alone. Let’s walk it together x