So there I was, living in Jamaica, running my magic mushroom farm and hosting psychedelic retreats (yes babe, totally legal over there) for women wanting to reconnect with their true selves. Living the dream right? On paper? Paradise. But behind the palm trees things were not as “One Love” as they seemed.

I was stuck in an increasingly toxic and abusive relationship, slowly losing parts of myself just to keep the peace. Then I found out I was pregnant.

That was my line in the Caribbean sand. I knew I had to get out.

I left everything behind. My business, the beach life, and the illusion of what could have been. I booked a flight back to the UK with a baby on the way, no money, no plan— just a babe on the run with a carry-on case and the hope that D.REAM was right and things could only get better. 

Landing back in Manchester was a mixed suitcase of emotions *and then some extra (thanks, pregnancy hormones) I did not have a soft landing into motherhood but I refused to get sucked into the victim mindset that whispered my name 500 times a day OR the typical narrative of, what a mum, (especially a single mum) is supposed to settle down and make do with.

Every challenge I faced became fuel for my fire. I started proving to myself just how much I could accomplish when I ignored my own inner critic and instead, embraced the crazy ride of finding out what I wanted.

When my daughter was six months old, we packed up and moved to Mexico—yep just the two of us.

It was a wild decision but one backed by a solid strategy (and a love of tacos and tanning). I rented out my house in the UK and found my way to San Pancho, a tiny town on the Pacific coast where I knew absolutely nobody, but rents were cheap, and I could afford to be a full-time mum while building my business.

What I didn’t know? Those blogs I’d read about the “hidden gem of a sleepy surfer town” had also been read by LA’s trendiest digital nomads who all decided to hop on the newly direct 2 hour flights to Puerta Vallarta during COVID and send local rent prices soaring.

When we arrived in January, smack in the middle of tourist season, with nothing but a two-week Airbnb booking (optimistically thinking that would be plenty of time to find something more permanent); it turned out that the only “affordable” option was a tiny studio flat... sandwiched between the local cemetery and cartel HQ.

My neighbours looked at me like I’d walked into the wrong movie and the gangsters next door were just as confused to see a pink-haired English woman pushing a buggy past them every day as I was to see their skull face tattoos; but we waved “¡Buenos días! ¿Qué tal?” each morning, and life went on "mañana, mañana"

Mexico might’ve started dodging mariachi music and motorbikes outside cartel HQ, but something wild happened in that tiny studio apartment: I got clear. Like, crystal clear. With no distractions (unless you count the cockrels on the roof), I finally had space to figure out exactly who I was, what I was building, and how the hell I was going to do it.

This wasn’t a digital nomad fantasy—it was survival with a sprinkle of stubborn magic. Nap time became hustle time. I built my business one nap, one meltdown, and one breakthrough at a time. I stopped caring about what people thought, what the “right” way looked like, or what I should be doing. I made my own rules. I found my own rhythm. And I realised: this—this—was the power of not playing small.

While the LA trendies in the air conditioned apartments overlooking the beach, scheduled Instagram posts about #freedomlifestyle and #findingyourself, I was living it. Barefoot and burnt out most days, but building it real.

My business wasn’t born from some fluffy dream board. Necessity was the mother of my reinvention. It was built in the chaos, shaped by hard-fought but always won lessons, and fuelled by the decision to go all in with the only thing I had—being myself.

This is exactly the energy you can expect when we work together on your branding and website.

We don’t do boring. We don’t do bland. We don’t do brands that could belong to anyone.

I help bold women bring their whole fabulous selves to the table. Not watered-down. Not copy-pasted. And absolutely not Beige Betty-approved. Just YOU. Turned all the way up.