It’s taken some courage to write this.
Many people know me as reliable, loyal, thoughtful, risk-aware, and (perhaps) someone with a good dose of black Geordie humour to navigate the hard stuff. Those qualities shaped much of my career in law and financial services, both in the UK and here in New Zealand. They’re a big part of who I am.
I’ve always been passionate about people. Professionally, that meant making the retail banking world better — for those working in it and for the customers it serves.
But while I looked like I had it all together, I was an antelope on high alert, always scanning the savannah for danger. A master at catastrophising, ruminating, people-pleasing, and perfecting. Sound familiar? Especially if you’ve trained in law or worked in risk management.
At 39, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It forced me to stop, at least physically. But mentally, I was still pushing. Still prioritising work. Still telling myself that bouncing back was the strong thing to do.
But my body had other ideas.
Another diagnosis. A brutal 15-hour surgery. And the kinds of questions that linger long after the cancer’s gone:
What if I only have five years left?
What do I actually want to be doing with my time?
What do I want people to say about me at my funeral?
Those questions changed things.
I realised time is my most precious commodity, and I wanted to spend it wisely. I left the corporate world. I focused on my children, my husband, my friends — and, for the first time in a long time, myself. I returned to acting, something I’d set aside for years. (You can even find a few voice reels here if you're curious.) I completed a postgraduate qualification in psychotherapy. I trained as a coach, specialising in neurodiversity and mental health.
I wanted to create something that reflected all of it — my experience in the corporate world, my training in psychotherapy and coaching, my curiosity about people, my deep empathy, and my desire to use whatever time I have in a way that feels purposeful and maybe even leaves things a little better than I found them.
That’s where Your Wayfinding came in.
It brings together everything I’ve learned: as a professional, a parent in a world not built for difference, a woman trying to do all the things, and a human who’s had to face some hard truths about limits, energy, and what really matters.
Your Wayfinding is about helping people find their way through. Not by pushing harder, but by getting clearer. On how you're wired. What you care about. And how to move forward in a way that actually works for you.
Now, I support people with neurocomplex wiring, and those navigating anxiety, burnout, or big transitions. Parents. Professionals. People who feel like they’re quietly falling apart while trying to hold it all together.
Through coaching and conversation, I help people pause, recalibrate, and find their own rhythm — one that’s sustainable, meaningful, and truly theirs.
This Musings page will be a space for reflection. If any of this resonates, I hope you’ll follow along.
Thanks for reading.
Humans need humans.
Caro
