Some of them will tell you all about it. They’ll post on LinkedIn about the 200 applications they’ve sent, the interview process that got to stage five, the promotion they missed out on, or the contract that wasn’t renewed.

Others won’t tell you at all. They’ll turn up to work, answer their emails, look after their kids, catch up with friends and carry on as though everything is fine. You wouldn’t know it to look at them, but they’re hurting.

Sometimes the bar gets so low at work that you don't even realise you're tripping over it.

I see this a lot with clients. They come to me frustrated about a promotion that never came, recognition that didn't materialise, a reporting line that makes no sense, a manager who doesn't seem to see them, or a workplace where they have gradually become the person who picks up everyone else's slack.

And often, the hardest part isn't what has happened. It's the realisation of how long they've been putting up with it.

Hope, on its own, isn't a career strategy.

At some point it needs to be backed by a plan, a decision or a difficult conversation. Otherwise, we can spend years waiting for a future we've imagined rather than one we're creating.

People are fascinated by my work.

It doesn't seem to matter where I am. At a barbecue, on the sidelines of a kids' soccer match, over coffee with a friend, or sitting next to someone on a plane, people inevitably ask what I do. Before long, the questions start coming.

A question I get asked a lot is what makes my CV service different from other CV writers.

One of the things clients say to me all the time is that when they read their finished CV, it sounds exactly like them. In fact, they’ll often say, “I can’t believe how much this sounds like me, but you’ve said it so much better than I ever could.”

I’ll let you in on a secret… There’s usually no permission slip coming.

That’s what I tell my clients once they’ve made, or are close to making, a career decision. Regardless of whether it’s a step up at work or stepping into something new, it’s highly unlikely you’ll receive a permission slip telling you that you’re ready to go, or that it will all work out.

I’ve felt stuck enough times to know this...

It’s rarely about a lack of ideas or direction. More often, it’s about a lack of trust in yourself.

That sticky, uncomfortable space where you know what you want. You can see the next step. But the questions creep in anyway: Can I actually do this? Do I deserve it? Am I ready?

For as long as I can remember, I never chose easy. I rarely chose obvious.

My career has been fantastically wiggly, non-linear, and full of unexpected turns. And yet, there’s a golden thread running through it — my key skills, the things I do best, and my approach – how I show up.

Stop for a moment. Pause the autopilot. Take a breath.

I hear it all the time in calls: “Is this still for me?”

Sometimes the answer is yes — a few tweaks and it’s enough. Sometimes it’s no, and it never really was. And sometimes… it’s bigger than a tweak. A pivot. A reinvention.

We simply aren’t immersing ourselves in life anymore.

We rush from one obligation to the next, always half-present. People scroll between sets at the gym. No one reads a book anymore. We stand in the playground waiting for our kids, glued to email, trying to catch up on everything else instead of noticing this moment.

The result? We’re not fully here.

On a recent holiday with my kids — one I scrambled to organise after a last-minute change of circumstance — I caught my reflection in a shop window. And I didn’t recognise the woman staring back. She looked like she was doing hard jail time.

I was so sad. I wanted to run away from that reflection and do better for my kids.

But here’s the truth: what I saw wasn’t failure. It was the cost of carrying everything on my own…

You’re not imagining it if December feels less like a finish line and more like a fog.

This time of year, a lot of us feel quietly off-track.
Burnt out. Over it. Wondering where the spark went.
And too tired to figure out what to do next.

Confidence and worth aren’t the same — but they often get confused.

During a session with a client who has been toying with establishing a consultancy post-redundancy, we were mapping out how she can establish herself. Hosting a free webinar was an option we were considering.

When we’re unsure what’s next, we often default to doing nothing.

That’s why I ask clients these three questions — they sound simple, but they unlock real clarity.

I’ve never seen so many clients — and friends — quietly struggling.
Something that’s becoming increasingly obvious is that we’re living in a time of collective struggle. I’ve had this conversation so often, and with so many, that my catchphrase for 2025 is indeed “We’re living in bleak times.”

It’s one of the hardest truths about job interviews — and no one tells you this upfront.
The reason many people fall short at interview isn’t lack of experience, preparation, or even skill.
It’s that they weren’t engaging or relatable enough.

I had a catch up with a long-term client who is nearing the end of her second maternity leave and had been approached about an opportunity elsewhere — one which is more values-aligned, and aligned with her future career goals. She had decided not to pursue the opportunity at this time, and I asked why.

Most people stay unhappy at work far longer than they realise.

In my experience, 4 to 5 years is the average time people will spend feeling unhappy about their careers.