“Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us show up and get to work.” 

(Attributed to Chuck Close, a famous painter.) 

That quote is still resonating in my ears… Maybe I am just an amateur. So often I’ve wanted to write—and so often I don’t get to it. And when I do sit down, nothing comes.

In November 2016, almost 9 years ago, I started a website called Musing and Inquiring. At the time, life felt full of possibilities and excitement. I thought I was finally going to get disciplined and write on a regular basis. Fast forward to March 2025: I have written a lot—just not publicly. My diaries are full. But I never had the guts to put my thinking out into the world. The eternal question—“What will my family think of me?”—often held me back. I didn’t want to embarrass anyone with my sharing.

There’s often been a creativity, a spontaneity wanting to arise from me—but it’s usually quelled by my inner censors: 

“Who gives a shit about what you write?”

“What’s the point of sharing your inner thoughts?” 

“Everything has already been said—and better than you could ever say it.”

“How arrogant of you to think your writing might interest anyone.”

“You’re not interesting. You don’t even speak proper English.”

And then came the thoughts about my professional image: 

“As a coach, you’re not supposed to talk about you; it’s all about others. Stop being so self-centred.”

“You’re a leadership coach. You’re supposed to have your act together. You can’t be sharing vulnerable thoughts and expect people to trust you.”

“You’ll lose clients. You’re not on brand.”

And yet… the desire to share has never left me. I have a sense that the way I analyse things might actually be supportive for others. That it could help people on their own self-awareness journeys. With their own challenges. Their own traumas.

Because over the past 9 years, I have learned a lot about trauma. About disrupted attachment, too. Not just in an academic way—though I’ve read many books and attended plenty of workshops—but through lived experience, both personal and professional.

And I’ve explored many avenues to heal myself. I still am. So yes, I do feel I have things to share. I’ve always hated the term “personal development”—it doesn’t feel serious enough. It feels indulgent. And yet, I’ve devoted my life to it, but I don’t call it personal development, I call it healing.

So yes, there’s been a lot of trauma processing in these past 9 years—and still more to go. There’s been healing, too—and I sense there’s more of that ahead as well.

Last week, I attended a conference with Bessel van der Kolk, author of *The Body Keeps the Score*—a powerful book on trauma that shares research on what works and what doesn’t when it comes to healing. I left feeling affirmed. I’m on the right path but there’s a lot more to be done. I can sense there’s more for me to clear in my body. I see the impact of my story in the way I move through the world. I see the sub-optimal reactions I want to shift. I see the impact on others I want to minimise.

I don’t write because I have all the answers. I write because that’s what we do as humans, we share stories, that’s also how transmission occurs. So I’m hoping some of you will learn from my journey. 

This isn’t a polished beginning—it’s a re-entry. One that comes both from inspiration, and from showing up. Finally.

Stay tuned.