09/09/2026
By the age of 10, I had a job nobody gave me and nobody paid me for.
My parents had split when I was two, but by 10, I understood what that meant.
Two houses.
Two lives.
And somewhere along the way, I started believing it was my job to make both of them okay.
I became the middle ground.
The one who knew what to say.
The one who knew when to stay quiet.
The one who could feel when something was wrong before anyone actually said it.
Iâd walk into one house carrying everything that had happened in the other.
But I learned not to show it.
Because what was the point in making things harder?
So I got good at reading people.
Good at reading faces.
Good at changing the subject.
Good at making things feel normal when they werenât.
And eventually, I stopped asking myself how I felt.
I was too busy figuring out how everyone else felt.
For a long time, I thought that was a weakness.
I thought being sensitive meant I was soft.
That caring too much meant I needed to toughen up.
But I see it differently now.
Because that little kid who was constantly watching the room grew into someone who can sit across from another person and notice the things theyâre not saying.
Thatâs a huge part of why I coach the way I do.
Iâm not interested in giving someone a perfect plan and wondering why they canât stick to it.
I want to understand the person sitting in front of me.
Because the thing they tell me is usually not the thing thatâs actually holding them back.
It might be stress.
Time.
Tools.
Energy.
Money.
Or something they havenât even found the words for yet.
And sometimes, people donât need someone to tell them what to do.
They need someone to actually understand why they keep struggling to do it.
Maybe thatâs something I learned a long time ago without realising it.
I spent years learning how to understand everyone else.
Now Iâm learning how to understand myself too.
