This Is Midlife

Without hesitation, the most meaningful and enduring chapter of my life is raising my daughter, Chloe. At 23 with a rare genetic condition (Cohen Syndrome), she’s faced more challenges in her young lifethan many do in a lifetime; and yet she approaches each day with courage, humour, and grace. Supporting her as a lone parent through childhood, her complex needs, and education systems built for ease rather than equity has been the most difficult and the most rewarding journey. Watching her grow into a thoughtful young woman, creating her own place in the world, fills me with immense, quiet pride. People often ask me how I manage everything, and the truth is: Chloe taught me how. Her resilience shaped mine. Her needs gave clarity to my priorities. And her presence is at the core of all I’ve done since, both personally and professionally. Raising her wasn’t a chapter with a neat beginning or end. It’s ongoing, evolving, and something I’m proud to lead with love, every single day.

At 20, I got married. It didn’t last long - we were both too young, and truthfully, I didn’t really know who I was or what I wanted. But I did know one thing: where I was didn’t fit. I didn’t have the language or confidence to explain that yet - I just knew. Looking back, I wish I could wrap my younger self in kindness and whisper three things:1. Talk to yourself the way you would to someone you love. 2. Trust your gut - it always knows. 3. And remember that behind every mistake is a lesson. Take it, use it, and move on. I made many mistakes, but each one helped me grow. And all of them brought me to today.

I don’t believe my core values have changed; they’ve always been there, thanks to my parents. What has changed is my awareness of them, and my willingness to live by them without compromise.The day I gave birth to Chloe, everything clicked into place. Inclusion, kindness, and reciprocity have guided me ever since. They've shaped the way I parent, the way I lead, and the way I build relationships in all parts of my life. Over the years, I may have questioned myself, like many women do… but my values? Never. They’ve been the thread that has grounded me in moments of chaos, growth, and uncertainty. They’re not a goal I strive for, they’re simply part of who I am.

The greatest challenge of my life came at 41. My marriage ended when my daughter Chloe was still a baby, and what followed was a divorce shadowed by narcissistic abuse. At the same time, Chloe’s medical diagnosis was unfolding, and I found myself navigating single motherhood, specialist medical care, and legal battles, all at once. I wasn’t prepared. I don't think anyone could be.But that time taught me more than any degree ever could. It taught me how to be resourceful in the face of systems I didn’t understand. It taught me resilience not as a buzzword but as a survival tool. And it showed me that when everything falls apart, you begin rebuilding one decision, one act of courage, one breath at a time. I would never want to relive it. But I am forever shaped by it; stronger, sharper, and deeply aware of who I am and what I will no longer tolerate.

Time is a luxury, and I don’t have a lot of it for traditional "activities." But what brings me the most joy is building something meaningful and being with the people I care about.I love the work I do. Building doqit from the ground up has given me drive, direction and a clearsense of purpose. It fills my brain and my heart in equal measure. And away from my desk, fulfilment comes from simplicity: a quiet evening with my daughter Chloe, who fills me with pride every day, or sitting with my husband Gary, knowing we’ve carved out something real, hard-earned and honest. For me, fulfilment isn’t found in doing more - it’s in doing the things that matter, on my terms

My relationships have changed dramatically over the years; partly because of who I’ve becomethrough motherhood, and because of what building a business demands. Both journeys havestripped things back and ultimately helped me find what I’d now call my tribe. Mothering Chloe reshaped who I could rely on. When she turned 23 recently, I realised only three people have been consistently present in her life since the beginning - steady, solid, unchanged in their support. Others have gently fallen away over time, leaving space for new, unexpected connections that feel more aligned. What I’ve learned is simple: relationships don’t always last, but that doesn’t mean they lacked meaning. What's changed for me is the value I place on depth over breadth. I seek quality now -truth, safety, ease- and I protect my energy in ways I never would have allowed myself to years ago. The people who are in my life now? They’re here because we see each other fully. And that’s something I love.

One dream I hold closely and build toward every day is to create a centre, a village, a place for adults with additional needs to live, work, be cared for, and be loved. Somewhere that feels like home. Not just looks like it, but smells like it. Somewhere safe. Rooted in trust, pride, friendship and purpose. I know I won’t live forever, and as the parent of a young adult with complex needs, that truth keeps me moving forward. One day, Chloe will need a place to call her own, and I want that place to hold the same safe feeling she’s always known, even when I'm no longer here. Building doqit is a stepping stone to that dream - something scalable and impactful that I believe can fund the foundation for that future. Who’s in?

Success is a funny thing. People chase it, define it, measure it in all sorts of ways -careers built, money banked, boxes ticked. But for me, success looks far quieter. It’s a happy home. A good life. Friends laughing in the kitchen. The freedom to make choices on my own terms. Gary (my husband) and I remind each other how lucky we are; not because everything is perfect, but because what matters feels intact. Sure, it’s not a big bank balance… but then again, maybe it is. Maybe it’s a different kind of wealth built on love, health, clarity, and the ability to live with more ease than effort. That’s what success means to me now.

I’ll be honest, I’m not great at self-care. I keep promising myself I’ll make more time for it… but I rarely do. There’s always something - or someone - that needs me more. Whether it’s building a business, supporting Chloe, or keeping all the everyday plates spinning, I tend to put myself last on the list. I manage the occasional facial, which I love when I do it. But mostly, any time I get to sit still with a cup of tea and no demands feels like a small act of care. I’m working on it. Not in a "new year, new me" kind of way but in a quiet shift toward understanding that self-care isn’t indulgent. It’s an act of preservation. And I know I can’t lead, love, or grow if I’m running on empty. So maybe the answer is this: self-care is a work in progress. But at least now it’s on my radar.

A while after Chloe’s father left, I read The Other Side of the Story by Marian Keyes and, unexpectedly, it helped me process what I was going through. The book explores how every situation has multiple layers, viewpoints, and versions of the truth. It made me step back and realise: the woman he left me for was seeing the same rosy, romantic version of him that I had… just at a different point in time. He meantime was telling variations of his story everywhere. His leaving wasn’t about her. Or me. It was him. Twenty years on, she and I are now friends; close friends. That experience, and that book, taught me that perspective is powerful, and that sometimes there’s more than one side to a story!

I would dedicate it to supporting families raising children with additional needs -particularly those just starting out on the journey. The early years can feel like an avalanche: medical appointments, assessments, school meetings, reports, diagnoses, forms no one explains. So many parents simply have no idea how to navigate what’s being put in front of them. I’d love to mentor and guide them through it with calm, clarity and care; to sit beside them and say, "This is what this form means. Here’s what’s next. You’re not alone." It wouldn’t be about having all the answers. It would be about helping them ask the right questions, find a system in the chaos, and feel just a little more in control in a world that often overwhelms.

If I could leave anything behind for the women who come after me ,especially Chloe, it would be this: Fear Nothing. Ask For Help. Go after Your Hearts Desire. Be Curious. Be Courageous. And always, always be kind. These have been the quiet principles I’ve lived by, even when I didn’t fully realise it. They’ve steeredme through motherhood, through loss, through building something from nothing, and they still guide me today. I want my legacy to be one of permission: to live bravely, to trust your voice, and to know that strength and softness can sit side by side. That you can be vulnerable and powerful at once.And that no matter what path you take, kindness is never wasted.