We Have The Power To Do Hard Things

There was a time I couldn’t remember full sentences.
Couldn’t finish a thought.
Couldn’t walk into a room without forgetting why I was there.

And yet…I kept going.

Not because I felt strong. Not because I had energy. But because something deep in me decided this wasn’t how my story would end. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I was damn sure I was going to fix it.

So I did what I’ve always done.
I started doing the hard things.

When everything felt broken…but I refused to be

Let me back up.

Two years ago, I was running a business, teaching full-time at the college, raising kids, running a household, and trying not to completely fall apart. I wasn’t sleeping. My joints ached. I couldn’t think straight. I was crying in my car and calling it a break.

I didn’t recognize myself.

And no one had answers.

So I decided to find them myself.

When I say we have the power to do hard things, I’m not talking about pushing through with grit and hustle. I’m talking about doing the uncomfortable, unglamorous, soul-stretching work of getting better…when everything inside you wants to give up.

Here’s what that looked like for me.

I asked for a medical leave, even though I was embarrassed

I never thought I’d be the person who took a sick leave. I always thought I could handle whatever came at me. I’d worked through grief, through divorce, through single parenting and corporate chaos. But this? This was different.

I didn’t know what I needed, but I knew I couldn’t keep going.

So I sat in my doctor’s office, cried, and said the words I never thought I’d say:
“I need time. Something’s wrong.”

Taking that leave was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it was also the start of getting my life back.

I told the truth about my drinking and quit

Alcohol had become my crutch. My way to wind down, numb out, escape. But it was also making everything worse. My sleep, my mood, my energy, my focus.

I didn’t hit rock bottom. I just realized I didn’t want to keep feeling this way. And I knew I couldn’t fix anything if I kept checking out every night with a glass of wine.

So I stopped.

It was messy. Lonely. Uncomfortable. But it gave me clarity. It gave me power. And it helped me see just how much I was masking what I needed to heal.

I saw every kind of specialist you can imagine

GP, gynecologist, psychiatrist, cardiologist, respirologist, dietitian, ADHD testing, sleep studies. You name it, I was there.

I had cortisol testing. Bloodwork. A giant ovarian cyst removed. An EKG that said I was one number away from heart failure.

And yet… no one said the word menopause.

Even when I brought it up, they brushed it off.

I kept showing up anyway. Because I knew something was off. And I refused to accept “you’re just tired” as a diagnosis.

I researched. I read. I tracked everything.

Sleep, symptoms, moods, food, exercise. I tracked it all.

I read every book I could get my hands on. I scoured the internet. I talked to other women. I started connecting the dots that no one else was helping me see.

I created spreadsheets. Colour-coded symptoms. Cross-referenced test results. If there was an answer out there, I was going to find it.

My brain was foggy, but my drive was crystal clear.

I started hormone therapy, even though I was reluctant

There’s so much fear and confusion around HRT. And I’d heard it all including the risks, myths, mixed opinions.

But after months of trying everything else, I sat down with my doctor and said, “There isn’t an option. I have to try it to save my life.”

It wasn’t instant. It wasn’t magic. But it was a turning point.

My brain started working again. I could remember names. I could finish sentences. I could function without collapsing by 2pm.

It gave me a foothold to start climbing out of the hole I’d been in for too long.

I kept my business alive, even when I wasn’t

During all of this, I had a team to lead. Clients to support. Bills to pay.

And even though I could barely get out of bed, I couldn’t just shut it all down. So I handed the business over to my team. I invested my own money to make sure they still got paid…even when I wasn’t. I automated what I could, delegated the rest, and made peace with the fact that growth wasn’t the goal right now. Survival was.

That was the season where I stopped building for appearances and started building for peace.

I rebuilt myself. Slowly. Quietly. On my own terms.

There wasn’t one big moment where everything changed. There were hundreds of tiny, hard choices stacked together:

• Choosing a walk over another hour at my desk

• Going to therapy instead of toughing it out

• Turning down work that didn’t align

• Saying “I can’t” without apologizing

• Letting go of friendships that felt one-sided

• Listening to my body instead of overriding it

Hard things. All of them.
And I did them anyway.

Not because I was motivated.
Because I was determined.

So if you’re in the thick of it…

If you’re staring at the ceiling wondering what happened to the woman you used to be…
If your to-do list feels impossible and your brain feels broken…
If you’re googling symptoms at 3am and getting zero answers from your doctor…

Please hear this:

You are not lazy.
You are not failing.
You are not crazy.

You are navigating something hard. Really hard. And you have every right to feel how you feel.

But you also have power.

You’ve done hard things before. You’re doing them now. Even if no one sees it.

You don’t have to collapse to qualify for rest. You don’t have to be fixed to move forward.

You just have to keep taking the next honest step.

If you’re trying to fix your life while your brain is short-circuiting and your body is breaking all the rules…I've been there. And I built my Deep Dive to help you find the clarity I had to piece together alone. Money. Mindset. Midlife. Let's stop pretending and start fixing what actually needs support.

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