Power Suits

Book, Christmas baubles, tarot cards

I once wore power suits and worked in high-street fashion.

Retail was my playground: colour, texture, Selfridges’ Christmas windows, and the thrill of getting it just right. I began on the creative side as a “window dresser,” before moving into management, leading large stores and teams across the country. On the surface it looked like success - targets, restructures, being headhunted.

It was fast, glossy and full-on. I managed big stores and teams at a young age, travelling across the country, working on strategic projects and sitting in rooms with group directors.

But beneath the gloss, something else was always guiding me. I wasn’t just managing stock and sales; I was fascinated by people. Helping others step into their potential, supporting 22 colleagues into management, was the work that truly mattered.

Bare Feet

Workwear, guide book

The power suit mostly lives in the wardrobe now. Chronic fatigue forced me to stop, and holistic therapies did what medication couldn’t.

That healing was so profound I retrained as a therapist and swapped sales targets for treatment rooms.

Today I work with my husband across the UK, blending psychology with what we fondly call “Lisa’s hippie stuff” in leadership development.

One foot is in the corporate world, one in the holistic. I’m a bridge between the muggles and the magic - helping people lead, feel and live more fully, this time with my feet firmly on the ground.

My Tootie Bump

Baking items, photographs

Sarah, my daughter, was my surprise parcel from a long weekend in the Cotswolds! When that hangover that wouldn’t go away turned into a positive pregnancy test.

I quite enjoyed being pregnant: morning sickness without actually being sick, living on arrowroot biscuits and ginger nuts, then relentless heartburn. She arrived with so much hair the midwife said you could put rollers in it.

All through my pregnancy I stayed firmly in career‑woman mode. I was still travelling to London for fashion launches, still on the Tube, still thinking in windows, layouts and targets. People were excited for the baby, and so was I, but in my head I hadn’t really crossed the bridge into “mum” yet.

Maternity Leave... But Not Really

Baby book, baby cardigan

I finished work just six weeks before she was born and only then started nesting

Those six weeks of maternity leave were a strange in‑between. I’d stepped away from the shop floor, but my mind was still wired for career mode with its deadlines, launches, the next big thing.

I was nesting, knitting a red chenille jumper for my November baby, washing tiny clothes, arranging and rearranging her things.

It was a liminal space: no longer just “Lisa the manager,” not yet “Mum” in any real, lived sense. I was excited and a bit naive, with no real idea what was coming. Looking back, it was the last stretch of time when life still followed my timetable, not the unpredictable rhythm of a newborn and everything she would change in me.

Chic But Not Fitting In With the Mummy Cliques

Tarot cards

On paper, everything looked fine. Sarah arrived after a quick labour, full head of hair, healthy. But almost from the start, something felt wrong inside me. I was sleep‑deprived, on edge and overwhelmed. I adored her, but each day came with a wave of panic I just couldn’t explain.

Six weeks in, my beautiful baby was diagnosed with a hole in her heart and I was diagnosed with postnatal depression. I found simple things like washing up a cup or going for a walk, just felt impossible. I tried mummy‑and‑me groups on my day off from work, but I never quite fitted. Most mums were home full‑time; I was the working mum dropping in once a week, half in their world and half still in the corporate one. I felt outside of the groups, and sometimes outside of myself. Looking back I wish I had been able to take more time off then.

Those months held both: the joy of seeing my heart outside my body and the heavy, grey cloud of anxiety and depression that I was only just beginning to name.

Family Foundations

Photographs

I didn’t do it alone. Just up the road were my dad, stepmum and grandparents, all living together and running boarding kennels and a cattery. Sarah would be there among the dogs and cats, helping mix dinners, riding in the wheelbarrow with my grandad, breathing in fresh air and mud and fur.

It echoed my own childhood on a smallholding, surrounded by animals and adults who treated me like one of them. Later, there were childminders, nursery and school runs, but always with that family safety net close by. My mum and stepdad also lived in the village in the other direction, which means we really were surrounded by family.

Their multi‑generational, slightly chaotic home was the root system beneath my shiny corporate life. Without them, I couldn’t have kept working at that level; with them, Sarah grew up grounded, loved and very much part of the pack.

Leaving My Old Life Behind

Books, sepia homeopathic remedy

The universe didn’t just whisper - it pushed.

Restructures, toxic managers, moving from fashion to opticians to banking, and then the promise of a promotion at Barclays . I could apply to be a director, or take a sideways move into a big branch I didn’t want. I chose neither, and found myself effectively redundant with no redundancy.

By then I already suffered from chronic fatigue, already felt the cracks in the corporate gloss. Reflexology and homeopathy had done what the NHS couldn’t, and I’d quietly trained as a therapist in the background. Each time I thought about leaving, I went back to what I knew: salary, status, the safety of the system.

This time, I didn’t. Standing at that crossroads, I finally listened. I walked away from the security of my old life and stepped into my first holistic business. I felt scared, exhilarated, and found the courage to truly work from my soul, not just for the system.

Becoming Goddess

Book, armillary sphere, goddess sign, tarot cards

I used to think my work was about careers and companies. Now I know my real work is about souls, cycles and change.

Astrology and tarot gave me a language for what I’d always felt: that I’m here as a bridge between worlds: between corporate and cosmic.

My own chart talks about being a way‑shower, a magician, someone who brings light and transformation. That shows up in everything I do: therapy, leadership development, writing, speaking. I help people remember who they are, find their inner strength and step into lives that feel aligned, not just successful on paper.

As I move into my crone years, that calling is only getting louder. Women in their fifties and sixties written off by a culture that worships youth, when in truth we are the wisdom keepers. I celebrate of women who have walked through fire and now hold the torch for others. That, to me, is goddess work: not perfection, but presence, power and a fierce, grounded kind of magic in everyday life.

Dancing Queen

Belly dancing bra, headband, shimmy belt, magazine

I’ve always loved dancing. As a child I was mesmerised by belly dancers on old films; as an adult I finally stepped into that world myself. These days I dance fusion belly dance with a small tribe of women. Sometimes traditional, often experimental, always rooted in feminine power.

We dance with swords balanced on our heads, hips and hands, using a shared vocabulary of moves so we can improvise together. It’s part ritual, part rebellion: a way to reclaim our bodies, our sensuality and our strength, especially in midlife. There’s laughter, sweat, glitter, and the quiet courage of women who keep showing up for themselves.

My daughter Sarah danced beside me for a while, and we still share a love of fantasy and costume. Through dance I get to be all of me at once: playful, powerful, mystical and very much alive in my own skin.

Granny Evolution

Photos, books, scout uniform, toys

I’m already “Nanny Lisa” to Jack and to wild, wonderful little Teddy. With each new grandchild, It feels like a new ring being added to the tree of our family.

I’m excited in a way I can hardly put into words. I know how practical and organised my daughter is in contrast, There will be spreadsheets and plans I’m sure.

I remember the shock, the love, the exhaustion, and the way it can all land at three in the morning. This time, I want to be more present than I could be when I was a young working mum: to hold the baby, make the tea, take the night shift now and then, and quietly weave some magic into his world.

As my travelling, corporate‑facing work winds down, my circle is coming closer to home, towards family, community and this new little soul. “Nanny” is another name to add to my list, but it feels less like an ending and more like the next evolution of who I’m here to be.