Women have always found each other: reflections on a life in medicine for international WOMEN'S day
I have been thinking, lately, about all the times I knew something and said nothing.
I remember what those early years as a doctor felt like. The wards were loud with confident voices, and I was rarely one of them. I felt small, uncertain, anxious in ways I couldn’t quite articulate, like a spare part in a machine that everyone else seemed to know how to operate. The self-doubt was constant, a low hum beneath everything I did, and I carried it quietly because I assumed it meant something was wrong with me rather than with the world I had walked into.
Re-Rooting:People places perspective
Reflecting on our time away and returning from Australia to Yorkshire has heightened something elemental in me. Not just gratitude for travel, time and family, but a deeper awareness of earth, seasons, water and weather and how each landscape shapes the way we live inside our own skin, how we work, rest and play.
It’s been hard to put into words, the contrast. In Australia, the earth feels expansive. The light is high and the sun rises fast. The sky seems to stretch without interruption. Weather there often arrives more cleanly, bright heat, sudden rain, electric storms, ocean winds. The rhythm is outward. Early swims. Salt on skin. Dry warmth that settles into the bones. Even on cloudy days there seems a generosity of light. Water is vast and everywhere. The ocean commands attention and respect : for the rips, the swell, the creatures beneath the waves. Immersion is bracing and immediate. It makes you feel alive.
Yorkshire has such a different feel, somehow more subtle. The beauty is quieter, more contained. Dry stone walls, layer upon layer of green in the fields, moorland that feels steadfast. The weather changes its mind from one moment to the next. The light is softer, more nuanced. The landscape reveals itself slowly. There is a sense of depth here, maybe its the history in the stone, the living, breathing spongy moss. Familiarity in the curves of the hills. A sense of being held and cocooned rather than stretched. Water gathers and trickles rather than crashes. Rivers carve through limestone. Even the sound of rain against windows has a different intimacy.
The Hidden Struggle: How Anxiety and Shame Shape Doctors’ Lives
It can begin in small, invisible ways.
A flutter in the chest before ward rounds. A tightness in the throat before speaking up in meetings, the waves of nausea preparing to speak to a concerned relative.
The quiet dread of not knowing, not being enough, not having the answer, not being able to hold it all.
For years, anxiety lived in my body like a quiet, constant alarm. I would feel it rise, an inner fluttering, a heat in my chest. I could feel the blush before it came. And I feared it. Not just the sensation, but what it would mean. What others would see. That they would notice and judge me.
And then comes the shame.
Because doctors, we tell ourselves, aren’t meant to feel this way. We’re trained to be steady, competent, unshakable. We learn to allay fear in others, but not in ourselves. And when anxiety shows up, it feels like a betrayal. A crack in the armour we’ve worked so hard to wear.
REwilding doctors
In the quiet hush beneath the canopy of trees, something ancient stirs within us. A knowing, a remembering. For doctors, so often caught in the sterile hum of hospital corridors and the relentless pace of clinical demand, this return to nature can feel like a long exhale after years of holding breath.
As a former doctor, I know how easy it is to become stuck in that place. For years, I moved at a pace that felt impossible to question. My identity became wrapped in the needs of others - patients, colleagues, systems, expectations. Yes, there was purpose, but also a growing disconnection from my own body, my own rhythm, my own sense of joy.
It wasn’t until I stepped outside - quite literally - that I began to find my way back.
Introducing Florescence; A Sister circle for women in medicine
An evening for women in medicine to pause, connect, and be nourished in circle.
Together we’ll share, listen, and root ourselves in the season’s wisdom leaving with a little more clarity, belonging, and breath. Nourishing food, fire, meditation, poetry, nature. You are welcome here ♥️
World Curlew day
I was out on an early dog walk this morning, hoping to spot a curlew or two, before I even realised that today is World Curlew Day.
As I walked and heard the familiar bubbling call that stops me in my tracks every time, I found myself reflecting on what it is about the curlew that holds such a special place in my heart.
Wisdom of the mother oak
To all the mothers, Wisdom of the Mother Oak is a tribute to your strength, love, and wisdom. Whether biological, adoptive, foster, stepmother, grandmother, spiritual, or a mother figure, motherhood comes in many forms, each equally special in its own beautiful way.
This tree holds a special place in my heart.
With her crooked branches, asymmetrical frame and irregular clumps of leaves. She is beautiful in her stoicism, damaged yet resilient. She lives on a slope in the field near my home, surrounded by other oaks, with a view of the windswept moor in the distance.
When the Soil Isn’t Right, We Fall....
A tree can have strong roots, a healthy trunk, and all the potential to grow tall—but if the soil isn’t right, it struggles. The nutrients aren’t there. The foundation is unstable. It leans, weakens, and sometimes falls.
Doctors know this feeling all too well.
The Importance of Books & the Healing Power of Nature Writing – World Book Day
Books have a unique ability to change the way we see the world. They provide a space for reflection, open our minds to new perspectives, and offer solace when we need it most.
Collaboration - a masterclass from nature
Nature is a masterclass in collaboration. A stunning film about two of my favourite local species from BBC Winterwatch recently got me thinking.
Otters and kingfishers are both river dwellers, yet not rivals. As otters glide through the water, they stir up fish, creating the perfect hunting opportunity for kingfishers.
Walking Coaching: Finding Clarity Through Movement
Sometimes, when our minds feel tangled and stuck, sitting and / or staring at a screen only makes it harder to find answers.
Walking coaching offers a different approach—one that invites movement, fresh air, and gentle reflection.
Finding the light…
Finding the light…
This is the solstice, the still point
of the sun, its cusp and midnight,
the year’s threshold
and unlocking, where the past
lets go of and becomes the future;
the place of caught breath, the door
of a vanished house left ajar.
Mary Oliver