Hair & Heart

This is hard to write, but I need to be honest.

I recently had breast surgery, and that part went well. During that operation, they also removed two lymph nodes to check whether the cancer had spread. Unfortunately, cancer was found in one of those nodes.

Because of that finding, the next step is more extensive surgery. This Wednesday, I need to have all of the lymph nodes removed from my left side, around my shoulder and arm. This is necessary to reduce the risk of cancer remaining or spreading further.

Removing lymph nodes comes with risks. One of the biggest is developing lymphedema, a condition where fluid builds up in the arm and causes swelling, pain, reduced mobility, and long-term complications that can significantly impact daily life. To reduce this risk, I’m also trying to fund a lymphovenous bypass, a preventative procedure that helps the body reroute lymphatic fluid more effectively. The estimated cost for this is $10,000–$15,000.

Before this week’s surgery, I also need to pay $2,557 to the anaesthetist upfront, plus private hospital fees and surgeon costs. Following this surgery, I will also need further chemotherapy and radiation therapy. That next phase of treatment will again come with reduced capacity and a reduced ability to earn.

I want to be clear that I have been working throughout all of this, and I am still working as much as I can, often every day. I am doing my very best to stay afloat while continuing treatment.

Many of you know I started a GoFundMe when I was diagnosed last July. It shows $20,000 raised, and that money has already been used to support me through treatment, multiple hospital admissions, and time off work after surgery. That support truly carried me through.

This next stage wasn’t expected, and I need help again. If you’re able to donate or share my GoFundMe, I would be deeply grateful. If you’d prefer not to donate via GoFundMe, please message me and I can share my bank details. Thank you for being here with me.

Important update (availability and appointments going forward)

The last six weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. I’ve been in and out of hospital dealing with an infection that needed unplanned surgery, along with a heavy round of antibiotics. I’m now moving into the next phase of treatment and recovery.

Here’s what things look like over the coming months, so you can plan ahead if you’d like to book in or are looking for other ways to support me.

Availability moving forward:

Now until January 7:
I have lots of availability. I’m currently on a pause from some other work, so this is a really good window to come in. If you’ve been thinking about booking, please message me and we’ll find a time.

From January 7:
I’ll be off for recovery for at least two weeks, possibly up to four, and won’t be able to work or do hair during that time.

Late January:
Mostly unavailable while recovering.

February and March:
Limited availability. I’ll be doing two more rounds of chemo during this period, so energy will fluctuate, but there will still be some appointments available.

April:
Likely starting radiation, which runs daily and is generally more manageable than chemo, though still something I’ll need to work around.

At some point during this process:
There will also be another smaller surgery that needs to happen after the main surgery and before chemo. I don’t have dates for that yet, but I’ll share updates when I do.

From around May onward:
Things should start to feel more settled and closer to normal again, all going well.

If you’d like to come in before January 7, please reach out soon so we can lock something in. If you’re looking ahead to February or March, you’re also welcome to message me and we can tentatively plan around treatment days.

If you need shampoo, conditioner, refills, or want help with Arbonne, you can message me anytime or check the link in my bio.

Thank you for the care, patience, and kindness so many of you continue to show.

Merry Christmas eveybody

This was me going into my 2nd round of AC chemotherapy with immunotherapy last week.
I was hit very hard this round and sooner than before.
Again and again, I have to keep accepting that I have no say, no control and no reprieve from this. Nothing helps. Nothing.
The fatigue is next level. I get up to go to the toilet and I'm gasping for breath as I sit down. My heart rate is 115 while I lie in bed doing nothing. I can't sleep. Everything tastes like actual paper. Constipated. Nausea for days. The feeling that this will never end.
And people saying things like you're so strong and keep positive thoughts.....
I'm hanging on by a thread and you think I can think positive thoughts? This isn't mind over matter. This is the physical body is under attack from 5 different angles and literally the neurotransmitters are not available. The hormones have logged off, even with HRT, that's only enough to prevent my skeleton from crumbling.
So truthfully, I am at the bottom of my capacity.
And I've kept it largely to myself and then I think to myself, no one speaks about why it's hard and how. It's glossed over in media, people assume they know, but actually this is beyond what you can imagine.
So here it is.

Today marks day one of the new treatment. I’m scared, but also quietly hopeful. Every cell in my body is listening, and I’m choosing trust over fear. 🌿

I’m reflecting again on what it means to let go, to release control over and over. It’s confronting, but in a way, it’s also choosing freedom.

What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
That question has guided me since the beginning, and I’m remembering it today. 🤍

Tomorrow is my 42nd birthday ...the meaning of life is a theme associated with the number 42 as per one of my favourite films The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy so I guess that is something to think on too.

12 rounds down. Halfway through chemo.

It feels like it’s taken forever, but also like it’s gone by really fast. This whole experience has been like doing a degree in myself, in cancer, nutrition, exercise, mindset, everything. It’s been hard, confronting, and also really rewarding.

I’m starting to see that there’s a kind of divine order to it all. Every single thing that’s happened has been here to show me something or help me grow. It feels too perfect to be random. I don’t think this happened to me. I think it happened for me. I think on some level I asked for it, not for it to come this way, but for the lesson. You don’t get to choose how the growth comes, you just have to meet it and move through it.

If I had to sum up what I’ve learned so far, it’s probably these three things:

1. Everything I need is already around me.
The love, the support, the people who have come back into my life, it’s been amazing. I’m so grateful for that.

2. Connection and community are everything.
It’s made me realise what really matters.

3. Progress feels better than comfort.
I’ve actually started to enjoy the process of getting stronger. I didn’t think I would, but here we are.

I’m learning to surrender more. I’m learning to trust life. I’m grateful for every single moment of it. I’ve also made peace with the idea of death. I don’t feel scared of it anymore. We don’t get to choose how or when we die, but we do get to choose how we live. And right now, I’m choosing to live.

I’ve gone back and forth about posting this again because asking for help never feels easy.

My brother originally set up a GoFundMe a few months ago to help me stay afloat while going through treatment, and the support that came through meant more than I can ever say. It helped me cover bills, groceries, and the basics when I wasn’t able to work much.

The truth is, those funds have now been used exactly as they were meant to be. They got me through the last few months, but I’m about to start the hardest stage of treatment yet. I’m moving onto stronger chemo drugs, then surgery, which will mean weeks of recovery where I won’t be able to move, drive, or work. After that comes radiation therapy for three weeks, and then immunotherapy until June next year.

I hope to be able to work again once I’m only on immunotherapy, as it’s not as intense as chemo, but surgery and radiation are going to be tough. I’m also studying and reskilling so I can eventually move into work that doesn’t rely so much on physical labour. That takes time and resources, and right now things are really tight.

The reality is, I need help to get through the next few months. I’ve done everything I can to stay independent, but this next stage is more than I can manage on my own.

If you’re in a position to donate, share, or even just send encouragement, I would be deeply grateful. Every bit of support helps me stay focused on healing and making it through this.

The link is in my bio.

Thank you for being here, for caring, and for reminding me that I’m not alone. 💗

I get so many messages from women who don’t know where to start — their skin is flaring, their gut is upset, their energy is low… and they’re completely overwhelmed by all the options out there.

So I’m offering a few free Starter Consults this week 💛

We’ll chat (voice note or DM or video call — super casual, no pressure) and I’ll build you a personalized 3-product bundle to support your body exactly where it’s at — whether that’s calming your nervous system, boosting your energy, supporting your gut, or strengthening your skin barrier.

If you’ve been watching my journey and thinking, “I need this too,” now’s the perfect time to start.

Drop me a 🌿 below or DM me START and I’ll send you a few quick questions so we can create something that actually fits you and your lifestyle. ✨

It's time to invest in you, refill your cup 🥤 😉

Earlier this week I felt incredible — more energy, clarity, and optimism than I’ve felt in a long time.

And then suddenly… I was wiped out. Heavy. Flat. Like the wind had been taken out of my sails. And my first reaction was to spiral: Maybe nothing’s working. Maybe the vitamins and sunlight were pointless. Maybe I was just imagining it.

But here’s the truth: that exhaustion isn’t proof that nothing’s working — it’s often proof that something is.
Sometimes, exhaustion is a sign that your body finally feels safe enough to let go.

It’s a sign that your system is shifting gears — moving from survival into healing. It’s your body saying, “We’re not fighting right now. We’re repairing. We’re recalibrating. We’re doing the deeper work.”

And that’s the piece we forget: change doesn’t always feel like progress.

Sometimes it feels like stillness.
Sometimes it looks like needing a nap at 3 p.m. Sometimes it shows up as nothing more glamorous than lying on the couch and doing nothing at all.

But underneath that stillness, huge things are happening.

So I’m choosing to see my exhaustion as a blessing — as a sign that the work I’m doing is landing, that my body is responding, and that transformation isn’t always loud or linear. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Sometimes, it’s fatigue. And that’s still progress. 💛

I’ve felt so much better this week — more energy, more clarity, more hope — and it’s not random. A few changes I made recently have started working together, and the difference is huge.

First, I found out I was vitamin D deficient, so I started supplementing with vitamin D3 + K2. Vitamin D isn’t just about bones — it acts like a hormone that regulates mood, immunity, mitochondrial energy production, and even dopamine sensitivity. It’s also crucial for red blood cell production, which is something we’re closely monitoring during chemo. Because chemo often knocks red blood cell counts down, low vitamin D can make oxygen delivery and energy production even harder. Getting those levels back into range makes everything — mood, stamina, and recovery — feel easier.

I also started taking Lion’s Mane mushroom about 10 days ago and have been titrating the dose up slowly so my body can adjust. Now that I’m close to my optimal dose, the shift is real — clearer thinking, sharper focus, more motivation, and a noticeable lift in mood. Lion’s Mane boosts nerve growth factor (NGF), reduces neuroinflammation, and supports serotonin and dopamine signalling — so it’s like a natural upgrade for your brain.

And the final piece: sunlight ☀️. For the past few days, I’ve been sitting outside topless for about 15 minutes in the morning, exposing larger areas of skin like my chest and stomach. That matters — more surface area means your body can make 10,000–20,000 IU of vitamin D naturally in that short time. Sunlight also boosts serotonin and dopamine (hello, mood lift), resets your circadian rhythm (which means deeper, more restorative sleep), and supports mitochondrial function (more energy at a cellular level).

Each piece helps on its own, but together they’ve been a complete game-changer — reminding me how powerful it is to support the body in the ways it actually understands: nutrients, light, and time. 🌞🧠💛

🚨 LAST CHANCE! 🚨
This offer ENDS Wednesday 24th September at 9PM — don’t miss it!

When you put $275 RRP into your cart, you’ll get these 3 incredible products FREE (huge value):
💧 Skin Elixir – supports natural collagen production
🧠 Mind Health Focus Super Powder – think sharper, focus better
🍵 CleanTox Herbal Tea – my absolute fave daily reset

✨ PLUS you’ll automatically unlock Preferred Client Registration (20% off that cart instantly and all carts for thenext 12 months).
✨ AND there’s even a bonus free gift on top of these three.

The stack is insane, but it all disappears Wednesday night at 9PM sharp. 💫

🛒 Don’t wait — now is the time!

Dm if you want a hand putting an order together x

✨ Lessons & Blessings ✨

Recently I had a really unpleasant experience with my oncologist. I’ll be sharing more in a video later, but today I want to speak to what it taught me.

It wasn’t easy. In fact, it left me feeling angry, disappointed, and frustrated.

But when I sat with it, I realised: there are lessons and blessings in every experience, even the tough ones.

The lessons:

I learned how important it is to advocate for myself.

I learned that the responsibility for my health rests with me.

I learned that doctors and health professionals — while skilled and often caring — are still human beings, service providers, and not infallible.

The blessing:

It showed me the agency I do have in this process.

It reminded me that I can do hard things and survive hard things.

It gave me a deeper sense of strength, not just for this journey, but for life beyond it.

I know I’m not the only one who’s had to find their voice in a situation where it felt easier to stay quiet.

🌿 Have you ever had an experience that at first felt awful, but looking back you can see the lesson or blessing in it?

I’d love to hear.