Four years old, sitting at the dinner table, tears streaming down my hot, red, crumpled face. Mean words cut through me: ‘Cry baby.’
Feeling as if I had no skin, I longed for the ground to open and swallow me. How could I disappear, become invisible?
Mostly I had my head stuck in a book, lost in magic and fairytales, even as my brothers and sisters raced noisily around me.
I never joined any groups outside of school. People were too scary.
For decades I dreaded standing in front of a group.
I stayed behind the scenes. And behind my wall of quiet reserve.
Four decades later ...
My mouth was dry. My pulse raced. My stomach lurched.
‘Why am I doing this?’
I stepped in front of the audience in a bright sunlit workshop room and began to speak.
The poem I was about to recite was one I’d huge resistance to. My inner nudges kept pushing me. And I pushed right back. ‘Not that one!’
It felt like a beautiful coat that didn’t fit. Made for someone else, not me. Someone tall, larger-than-life, sensual. I was small, shy, cerebral.
As I stretched awkwardly into it, I noticed my body come alive - my hips swayed, my arms extended, my head held high, my voice deepened.
I saw the audience mirror me, their eyes light up, their smiles widening.
Their bodies swayed with mine as I stretched into new language:
‘Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
’Cause I’m a woman
Weeks later, I stepped into a hot sticky room in front of 5 strangers.
Maya Angelou’s poem worked its magic. I claimed my space and aced the interview.
Finally. My first CEO role.
For someone who never felt like a leader, I transformed that non-profit organisation. Leading a team of a 100, implementing my vision to generate a million in revenue and improve the lives of tens of thousands of vulnerable people.
It took me years to figure out how to get the right support and step into visibility in ways that worked for me.
For a long time, I thought it was just me.
Eventually I realised that so many wise, caring people who carry the seeds of a better future, struggle with this too.
I could never have imagined the life I now have.
I’ve spoken on stage to hundreds, feeling we were all held in a sacred presence.
As a Soulful Visibility Guide for visionary leaders, I create weekly Lives, blogs and YouTube videos ... with ease.
I share transformational poems and stories that communicate the depth of my work, and inspire people to raise their hand and say ‘I need to work with you.’
Like this poem I wrote to reveal just how deep this visibility work goes.
To let you know that there’s nothing wrong with you if you're struggling with this.
Here’s a few lines.
‘I am the Frozen One.
I live inside you.
And I am older than you are.
I am the soul cry of your ancestors.
I carry what could not be borne.
I am the Frozen One.
Remember me and reclaim your lost gifts.
Your fierce knowing. Your timeless wisdom.
Your unflinching eyes. Your fearless voice.
Walk through the fire with me,
and rise rooted once again.'
Can you feel how a poem can transport you to a deeper place, rewriting old stories?
When I shared The Frozen One poem, it went viral and filled my Heal the Witch Wound mini-retreat.
Now I’m passionate about sharing the tools that changed everything for me.
I know if I can step forward - one of the shyest, most reserved, super sensitive people on the planet - it’s possible for you too.
That’s why I’m here to support you to grow yourself visible
... so you can share your vision, your voice and your unique value with your people.