I became a widow at the age of 32. Overnight, the life I knew was turned upside down. I had two young children, aged 7 and 3, depending on me, so there was little time to stop, grieve, or fall apart. I quickly learned to function on “auto-pilot”, focusing on what needed to be done each day.

From the outside, I seemed to be coping. Even close family and friends thought I was doing fine. But inside, I felt lost, anxious, and disconnected from myself. I had once been confident, outgoing, and adventurous. After the loss, I became withdrawn, worried all the time, and struggled with self-confidence.

About seven years later, I joined a support group for young widows. For the first time, I found a safe space where I could truly express what was happening inside me. Everything I had kept bottled up for years finally had a place to come out. It was a turning point in my life.

I trained in counselling skills, worked with terminally ill patients and families through Hospice, and helped train new counsellors. Deep inside, I knew this was my calling.

But over time, I realised something important: support and counselling are deeply valuable, but they are not always the end of the journey.

There came a point where I no longer needed help simply surviving my grief. I needed help rebuilding my life. I needed new goals, new direction, new confidence, and sometimes even a new sense of who I was. I needed support in adjusting to my new reality and finding hope again.

When I later trained as a Life Coach, everything fell into place. I realised this was exactly what I had needed years before — someone to help me move forward, reconnect with myself, and begin building a meaningful future again.