The Rainbow to Wellbeing: Tailoring the right approach for you.

From Intensive Care to Tongariro.

Hi gorgeous people,

When I began formally training as a coach, I dreamed of creating a space for open, real conversations—a place where clients could explore all the different areas that add up to being truly healthy.

That dream came from a deeply personal place. I felt like I had failed at nearly every health initiative I ever tried. And it all came to a head when I ended up in hospital with my life on the line. It was also born out of my frustration with experts who were so deep in their own niches, they didn’t see what I actually needed.

Let me give you an example…

I once asked a Personal Trainer how he dealt with injuries without completely losing momentum. His answer?

"Just power through, man!”

I smiled, nodded… and walked away no more enlightened, muttering something about "dumb gym junkies."

See, he missed the real question I was asking:

“How do I overcome the mental block after a setback?”

To be fair to him, when exercise is your go-to coping mechanism, it probably does seem foreign that someone wouldn’t just do it—to quote Nike’s wildly reductive and sometimes humiliating tagline.

But this pattern repeated itself again and again—GPs, nutritionists, even family. They all missed what was really going on. What I eventually discovered was this:

My mental health was in tatters.

And had just one of those professionals paused their judgments—had they seen past assumptions that I was dumb, uneducated, or lazy—they might have noticed the depression I was hiding under layers of eating, isolation, and distrust.

The lightbulb moment

Things finally started to shift when I was venting to my big sister. She listened, then said something simple that changed everything:

“You realise those are symptoms of depression?”

I was 39 years old when I heard those words, and they lit a spark. It would take a lot longer to fully address the issue, but that was the start. And spoiler alert—it wasn’t medication that did the heavy lifting.

Now, don’t get me wrong…

Medication absolutely has its place. For many, especially those who aren’t in crisis, it’s a bridge to wellbeing, not a cure. It takes the edge off just enough to start making other positive changes.

And that’s where The Rainbow to Wellbeing comes in.

As I worked on healing, I realised everyone’s path is different. We each have unique combinations of things that throw us out of balance—and different levers that help us come back.

So far, I’ve identified seven core pillars—and I’m still learning, so I won’t be surprised if more show up.

The Seven Pillars of the Rainbow to Wellbeing:

• Exercise

• Nutrition

• Sleep

• Mental Health

• Social

• Spirituality

• Finances

It doesn’t take much to see how they all interact and affect one another. But here’s what’s interesting: in my experience, one of these will be your lynchpin—the key area that, when addressed, unlocks everything else.

For me, that lynchpin was mental health. Once I began facing my depression—telling my dark secrets and robbing them of their power—suddenly, getting back into exercise was ridiculously easy. I finally understood what the gym bunny was feeling when he said, “just do it.”

But it’s not always mental health…

For one of my clients, the big issue was money. We spent loads of time working on budgeting, frugal grocery shopping, and finding healthy options on a shoestring. (Including one hilarious trip down the supermarket aisles—which is definitely a story for another blog!)

Why my background helps

Here’s the thing: my life experience includes working in finance, lending, budgeting, and of course, living through every one of these pillars myself.

Let me be clear: my solutions won’t be your solutions. But the Rainbow to Wellbeing will help us explore your unique path. Together, we can find the right starting point, call in the right experts if needed, and build a plan that leads to a version of your life you might not even believe is possible right now.

Five years ago, I lay in a hospital bed crying—grateful for the nurses, and for my sister who reached out from the other side of the world. I truly thought I was done.

But here I am:

Alive. Annoying. Happy.

And giving hope where others might have had none.