Zanzibar: 2006 I didn’t always struggle to step back. I stepped back easily when I trusted the person. I remember the first time I went on holiday with work friends. We were traveling to Zanzibar and I flew from Cape Town to meet them in Joburg. To this day, one of them still tells the story. She couldn’t believe I was the same person she worked with. I arrived with no idea what time the international flight was leaving. No details of where we were staying. No plan. I didn’t

Path Forward - Spier Light Art. There was a point in my career where I knew exactly what I needed to do. I needed to step back. I was leading a project in Europe. I was exhausted. And I knew I couldn’t keep operating at that level. But I didn’t let go. I didn’t want to be seen differently. At the time, the story in my head was simple: If I let go, I’d be seen as weak. As someone who couldn’t handle it. As someone who didn’t finish what they started. So I stayed for longer th

The more capable you are, the more you’re given. At first, it feels like recognition. You’re trusted with the complex work. The high-stakes projects. The things not everyone can handle. I remember when that started happening for me. I felt proud. It felt like I had made it. I had built a reputation. Someone who could get things done. Even when it was messy. Even when it was hard. And for a while, that worked. But over time, something shifts. What starts as recognition becomes

A familiar pattern from earlier in my career. I remember preparing for client meetings many times in my career. Before the meeting, I had to take my boss or colleagues through the deck. I must have reworked it five or six times. Tweaking the wording. Changing the visuals. Adjusting the tone. Trying to anticipate exactly what the feedback would be. Trying to get it perfect . We got into the session. They looked at it. And then asked me to change things anyway. The feedback was

Looking back, my warning signs were there long before I treated them as warning signs. Frustration. Reduced patience. Anxiety. Insomnia. Perfectionism. At the time, I didn't really clock that something was wrong. It had been building for so long that it just felt normal. When you don't know what you don't know, and you're not expecting much different for yourself, you keep going. Everyone else is. That's part of what makes early warning signs so easy for high performers to ig

Every year around this time, my nervous system used to rebel. Palpitations, stomach aches, nausea, out-of-control emotion. The kind of panic that started building in February, arrived with a bang in March and refused to leave until sometime in April. When I lost track of dates, I’d find myself wondering what was going on because I just didn’t feel like me. Then I’d realise what time of year it was and know exactly what was happening. I just had no control over it. March 11 is

Ahead of a keynote on sustainable ambition at a global leadership conference Resilience is one of the most praised qualities in leadership. We celebrate the people who keep going. The ones who absorb pressure. The ones who hold the room steady when things get difficult. Earlier this week I spoke at a global leadership conference, where I chose to explore the idea of sustainable ambition and the structural design required to carry it. While preparing for that talk, one thought

But many high-performing leaders build their identity around it. You’re reliable. You can handle pressure. You step in when things get messy. You’re the one who just gets on with it. On paper, it looks like strength. Underneath, it often feels like something else. A tightness in your chest before meetings. Snapping at home over something small. A sense that you’re carrying more than your role requires, but not knowing how to put it down. You wouldn’t call it burnout. You’re

I’ve always been ambitious. Driven. Competitive. Wanting to be the best. (The word smart*ss has been used a few times, along with some other choice descriptions). For a long time, I thought ambition was the problem. It wasn’t. Misaligned ambition was. There’s a difference. In my last few years in corporate, I was chasing titles as proof of worth. Each level felt like validation. If I didn’t get the next one, it meant I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t smart enough. I was somehow l

There was a point where I realised I didn’t like the person I was becoming. Not because I was failing and not because I wasn’t performing. But because physically, emotionally, and in my relationships, something was shifting in a direction I didn’t recognise. I was more impatient. More exhausted. Less joyful. I told myself it was the price of ambition. Until I couldn’t anymore. For a long time, I was trying to be the perfect corporate operator. Hit every KPI. Deliver with no n

When habits get mistaken for personality Many high-performing women describe themselves in similar ways. Driven. Reliable. High standards. The one who gets things done. The one people trust. These traits are often treated as personality, as “just how you are”. But more often, they’re habits. Learned early, reinforced often and rewarded consistently. And they made sense. Why these habits made sense At some point, being prepared kept you safe. Anticipating needs earned approval

Everything looked fine During our Wednesday walk, I took a photo of Logan (aka fur-child) on the promenade. He was in the sun. Calm. Completely himself. If you looked at that image alone, you’d assume all was well. On Friday, he had a seizure. On Saturday, the vet told me he had cancer and multiple organ failure, and that there was nothing curative they could do. Only palliative care. I fell apart. As an aside: I was also, unexpectedly, reminded of the kindness of strangers.

There’s something I used to notice every January when I was in corporate. I’d come back from the holidays rested. Or at least, rested enough to feel the contrast. And then, within a week, it would be as if the break had never happened. The inbox filled quickly. Meetings restarted at full volume. Deadlines appeared with the same urgency as before. And somewhere in that first week back, I’d feel the familiar tightening. The sense that I needed to be back at full pace already.

What has my attention right now is what is serving me, not what is draining me. Over the past few months, I’ve been on a journey with my brand designer to refresh my branding and website. At some point along the way, I gave myself a goal: Have the new site live by 1 January. It felt symbolic. A clean entry into a new year. But December had other plans. I was hosting Christmas and New Year. I wanted to be fully present with the people I love during those moments. And very quic

The pressure to “wrap up the year” is one of December’s most convincing illusions. The calendar signals closure, and we internalise the idea that we should be closing things too. But life rarely works that way. December Is a Compression Point, Not a Conclusion December, for many, is not a natural ending. It’s a compression point. A place where exhaustion, reflection, family dynamics, grief, and obligation collide. Some people are celebrating. Others are surviving. Many are do

Human beings generally don't like change (neither do canines, but I'll come back to that). We tell ourselves we want things to be different. A calmer schedule. A team that doesn’t pull on our energy. A role that doesn’t drain the joy out of everyday life. But most of us stay exactly where we are because it feels familiar. The comfort of discomfort is still comfort, and it is one of the key reasons high-performing women miss the early signs of burnout . The brain treats famili

The past year has been a journey. I started Glimmer in August 2024, so it may seem like a weird time to write this post, but a few big things have been happening: After 14 months of (painful) back and forth on getting the name formally registered, it finally came together this week (Incredibly grateful to that one CIPC call agent who finally knew what she was doing). The Glimmer Snapshot released this week (more about that in the rest of the post). I’ve been working with a gr

This past week, I celebrated my birthday. Yes, I celebrated for the ENTIRE week. I even took a break from LinkedIn (and anything requiring too many brain cells). I know people feel differently about birthdays. I even know someone who refuses to celebrate his. He insists that his birthday happened once, on the day he was born, and that there’s no need to mark it again. It frustrates the life out of me when he says it. Because to me, birthdays aren’t about the number, they’re a

This week has been one of opposites. The kind that has you on an emotional rollercoaster ride.   On Monday, it was my late partner’s birthday. He passed away several years ago, and for a long time, that date was one of my hardest. Each year, I’d be in my feelings for weeks in the run-up to the day. I'd wake up with a heaviness in my chest - anxiety, sadness, and disbelief that he wasn’t here. I’d brace for the day, trying to get through it quietly and with as much grace and c

New daily ritual involves a walking pad under my desk. The fur child hasn't yet understood that he's not part of the new routine...so...