What is the cost of mental clutter? It has taken me four years to build up the courage to share this story, to talk about how it all began, the journey of why I wanted to start Momentum Life Coaching and four years to understand why I felt the way I did and what I needed to do to come out the other side.
I describe my early moments on this journey like a knotted ball of wool – my thoughts were so tangled and messy that every time I tried to bury them, the knots tightened. I have done a lot of research on this feeling, a feeling I know as mental clutter. What I have found is that mental clutter is defined as heightened feelings of anxiety, stress, and an inability to relax. This state arises from unresolved thoughts and emotions, and when we carry these unresolved thoughts and emotions, we often feel tired and lost; we become distant from those around us, we isolate ourselves and struggle to regulate our feelings, getting easily frustrated, lashing out and finding ways to fix it through shopping, eating, drinking, socialising, business, work, life admin.
At first, I thought this was just 'new mum syndrome.' But as I processed my journey, I realised this mental clutter had been there long before my amazing daughter was born. In fact, I believe Amelia helped me bring it to the surface and find the ultimate reason to fight for a resolution, so I have her little heart to thank.
For years, people told me, "You just can't relax." Whenever Jorge and I sat down to watch a movie, my mind wandered. I couldn't sit still—I always felt I had to wipe, hoover, or clean something. It was as if scrubbing away at the surfaces might relieve the feelings.
Today, for the first time, I want to explain my story. This is my reason for supporting women in modern, busy lives to find their clarity and why this mission means so much to me. My coaching isn't just a job—it's the reason I believe I'm still alive today. So, here's a choice: continue reading to hear the darkest part of my story—which might trigger you—and if it does, please reach out. Or stop here and know that, either way, you are seen, heard, loved and never alone.
Jorge and I have been together for more than twenty years. We love our lives: working hard, playing hard, and celebrating milestones. We have moved countries, bought and sold homes, landed new jobs, and always kept moving. About three years after settling in Australia, we wondered, "What's next?" That's when we decided to have a baby.
What was meant to be a year of trying turned into one month without contraception and bingo - pregnant! This would have been a "you're so lucky" moment for many, especially as we were already in our late 30s. But it meant we'd never slowed down enough to make time for it, so we did what we thought was best: we kept moving. Preparing for a baby, looking for a bigger house, and Jorge chasing a bigger job. By the time Amelia arrived, we were still moving—buying a home when she was just three months old, moving in, and renovating not long after.
Why was there a constant need to keep moving? It then hit me: I didn't like this silence; I didn't like the stillness; something still felt off. In the silence, I couldn't keep the thoughts buried.
To the outside world, we had it all: the dream home, the car, the career, a beautiful baby girl, and a loving, happy relationship. Every box on the "perfect life"Â checklist ticked. I had no right to feel unsettled or to complain.
But inside, I was crumbling. I felt empty, as if I were playing a part in someone else's movie. A puppet on strings in a role that wasn't mine. I threw myself into being busy, hoping to drown out the whispers in my head. But the whispers only grew louder.
In my darkest moments, I'd find myself driving, staring at the road ahead, and thinking, What if I just drove off here? What if it all ended? It scared me to even admit those thoughts to myself. I felt broken, lonely, and isolated, and I couldn't see a way out.
I remember going to my doctor one day because I hadn't felt great for weeks. I thought, "I hope she finds something."Â The idea of having a diagnosis, "a reason", felt like it would make sense of everything. But when she read my results and said, "All clear,"Â I broke down. I blurted out, "Are you sure? Can't you just admit me to the hospital?"Â Â The student doctor in the room looked shocked. My doctor gave me a gentle smile, signed me off for a week, and told me to rest.
Her diagnosis was correct; I did need to rest, and to the world, I was functioning, just labelled a 'tired mum with a toddler'.
But I knew it was more than that. Why did I want to disappear so badly? I thought life would be easier for everyone if I was gone. If my life insurance was paid out, they'd be fine. Deep down, I knew this wasn't the solution. I knew it wasn't even me. I was a happy, positive person. And the thoughts terrified me.
One day, I found the courage to share those thoughts with Jorge. Thank goodness he didn't grab Amelia and run. He just listened. To my surprise, he admitted he was struggling, too, in his own way. Hearing someone else say that even with all the 'stuff'Â around us, they felt disconnected and unhappy made it not feel so lonely. We were two lost people, disconnected from ourselves and each other, wearing the mask of a life that was supposed to make us happy.
I remember sitting at my desk, desperately searching for a way forward. I knew this was not how I wanted to live, feel, or show up for my daughter. That's when I stumbled across coaching. I'd always been fascinated by human behaviour, but I never thought about studying it for myself or others. Then I discovered Matrix Therapy, which focuses on healing past traumas to find clarity and alignment in your future. I still remember booking the call and enrolling in my Master's Diploma.
A few months later, during my first Matrix Therapy Session, I stood before the class, volunteering to go through a session. By the end of it, I let out a tormented, painful scream. I had never heard that sound come out of me before. It was like a release I didn't even know I was holding onto. It felt like I'd purged the dark voice that had haunted me. I screamed for the pain I didn't understand, for the hatred I'd carried for myself, and for the soul I thought I'd lost over the years. My knots began to untangle.
With each learning and discovery, I untangled the unresolved emotions and thoughts and started to find an inner calm. I felt like I could breathe, things felt clear, and I could handle anything. But we needed more. In 2023, we took a leap many thought was crazy: we sold the "forever"Â dream house, shed our possessions, and moved into a caravan with our daughter for a year. We decided to put our lessons to the test to remove the physical clutter and expectations of social norms, declutter our minds and lives, and find the true essence of happiness.
Living smaller taught us to live bigger. We found joy in simplicity and peace in stillness. I started to love the quiet moments of walking in the morning, being in my head, and acknowledging my feelings and thoughts. We reconnected over early evenings, watching the stars appear and listening to the dingoes; we decluttered our minds on long drives and sang at the top of our lungs to Disney songs (my favourite). Slowly, I found it—the light within my soul. Dim at first, but brighter as each month passed. I realised I could handle any challenge that came our way as we travelled, that I could take charge of my emotions and thoughts, and then I saw it. Happiness was always there. It was just entangled in the knots.
I have found that clarity is reserved for special moments or extreme life changes. It's there within you. All you need is the courage to pause, untangle the knots created by your thoughts and emotions, and discover the freedom of living with and trusting your most authentic self.
So, this is why I do what I do. Because I've discovered that you don't have to feel trapped, lost, or alone. And you don't need to run away or keep moving endlessly. And I wish I had someone reach out to me, like I am to you, to guide me through and validate what I already knew: that the version of the life I need is there for me. That clarity and calm are waiting for you—right there. Within you, and closer than you think, just beneath the surface.