"I don't think it's hormones. I'm just tired." “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m always so tired.” I hear some version of these statements almost every week. From women who run teams, businesses and households. Women who are sharp, capable, and used to being the one who holds it all together. They're not having hot flashes so they assume perimenopause hasn't started yet. They put the exhaustion down to a busy season, a big year, too much on their plate. New research say

Last week I went to High Vibe Women, an event with 220 other female entrepreneurs. All of them building something and figuring it out as they go. And yes, you go to these things to network. To meet people, make connections, but I also go to learn, to be inspired and be reminded. Because sometimes someone says the exact thing you've been hearing for months, maybe years, but she says it differently. Different words, different story, different moment. And suddenly it lands. Some

Let me say this first, because I know how charged this conversation can be: I am not anti-HRT. Not even a little. I’m pro-you. For a lot of women, hormone therapy is life-changing. I need it and if you need it, you deserve to get it, and I know how hard some of you have had to fight just to be heard by a doctor. I've sat with women this year who were told they didn't need the tests, or that they "didn't fit the mold," or who are paying out of pocket for care that finally list

On Wednesday night, I did something I couldn't have imagined doing ten years ago. I led my very first Awaken HER class. It's a new kind of class I've been dreaming up for months, built around breath, music, movement and connection. Eight women said yes to this pilot class, walked into that room, and trusted me to guide them somewhere new. When the music started, there was a little hesitation. A few glances around the room. That familiar am I doing this right? A feeling so man

In last week's blog I shared my story about finally quitting downhill skiing because it was something I had been doing for other people, not myself. When I stopped this and some other things I was doing, I expected to feel like I was letting people down. What I actually felt, almost immediately, was relief. A lightness. From not doing something my whole body was quietly resisting. But it's not just relief, it's expansion. Once I stopped abandoning myself in those small, speci

For over 10 years, I tried to like downhill skiing. I'd married into a family that skied, my husband had skied his whole life, and it was a big part of his childhood. Everyone kept telling me, once you get the hang of it, you'll love it. So I listened to them. I let their words override what I was feeling. I am petrified of heights. Not just scared but petrified. When I was a kid I was on a "mini" big wheel ride at our local fair, probably only 30 feet high, and they had to s

Today I'm launching my very own podcast. It's called Women, Unfiltered, and it's been sitting in my drafts, my voice memos, and my "one day when I'm braver" folder for way longer than I want to admit. And now it's actually happening, and I am equal parts excited and absolutely terrified. I've caught myself, more than once this past week, trying to talk myself out of going through with it. There’s the whole "what if nobody listens" but there is also a much older and deeper fea

Last week, we dropped our oldest son Benn off at Carleton University for his first year and these last few days have held so many feelings. Love. Pride. Excitement. Hope. Inspiration. Sadness. Fear. Grief. All of it, at the same time, in the same body. I honestly don't think I've felt a range like that in my entire life. Maybe saying goodbye to my family in England every time I go home but even that doesn't come close. They tell you as your kids get older and more independent

CONTENT NOTE: this post touches on child loss, suicide, and postpartum psychosis. Please take care of yourself as you read, and skip it if today isn't the day for it. I have been watching reports on the Lindsay Clancy trial over the last few weeks and I want to say this first, before anything else: Cora. Dawson. Callan. Three children lost. That is the tragedy at the centre of this story, and nothing I write here is meant to take away from that or excuse what happened to them

A few years ago, a friend asked me this question: "Are you sitting on the sidelines of your own life?" I couldn't answer it in the moment but that question stayed with me for days, I couldn't shake it until I realized my answer was yes. That's exactly what I'd been doing. Watching everyone else play the starring role in their own stories while I hid in the background of mine. Supporting. Helping. Showing up. Always there, just never center. That question became a catalyst. No

My thirteen year old son Sam is in a period of big change right now. He's really becoming his own person and it's honestly one of the most beautiful things I get to witness. He has different passions and interests than a lot of other kids his age. He likes a slower pace, just like me. He needs more time to himself than most boys his age seem to want. He'd rather go deep on the thing he loves like music and movies, than spread himself across everything everyone else is doing.

We've been coming to the same cottage for eleven years now. Same mix of family and friends who feel like family. Eleven summers of the same view, the same lake, the same beach. And this was the first one where I truly switched off. It wasn’t just that I “tried” to check my phone less or “tried” to relax, this time I was fully, completely switched off. I was present in my body, I took a lot of quiet time, which was needed. I didn’t spend my time being pulled to the past or the

In last week’s blog I told you about the flowers. The ones I bought myself on the drive home from my therapist's office, close to ten years ago now, after I couldn't answer one simple question: What do you like to do? What I didn't tell you is what happened right after. That same week, I taped a blank piece of paper to the inside of one of my kitchen cupboards. Nothing fancy. Just a plain sheet, tucked where I'd see it every time I reached for a mug. At the top I wrote, "Mel'

Yeah, I know. It's a phrase you've heard before. It’s being thrown around everywhere right now and I used to resist using this phrase because of that, because all the coaches seemed to be saying it. But I kept coming back to it, because there’s nothing else that reflects what I actually mean. So I thought it was time that I explain what “Coming home to yourself,” means to me and not the trendy Instagram or Pinterest version but my version. Now I want to start by saying tha

For most of my life, I have been the "good girl." I ticked the boxes. I listened to everybody I was supposed to listen to. I followed the rules. And I used to think that made me disciplined, or responsible, or grown up but what I didn't see for a long, long time is that it also made me really good at something else: abandoning myself. That's what following the rules actually cost me. Because every time I chose the rule over what my intuition, my heart or my body was telling m

Last month my son Ben turned 18 and we hosted a BBQ to celebrate his birthday. I ordered 90% of the food from Costco and the ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. Now this probably doesn't sound like a big deal but the old version of me wouldn’t have done this, I would have made everything from scratch. I would have spent days planning the menu, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and making sure the house looked perfect before anyone arrived. This was what most holidays and special o

Do you believe you deserve what you want? Not just in theory, but deep down in the depths of your soul. Do you believe things can work out for you? Do you believe you are worthy of love that feels safe, healthy, and reciprocal? Do you believe you can take up space without disappointing people? Do you believe you can trust yourself to make the right decision? Do you believe your needs matter? Do you believe life gets to feel easier than it does right now? These might seem like

I remember my husband asking me one day: "Why are you so angry all the time?" The question caught me off guard because I didn't think of myself as an angry person. I wasn't someone who yelled or had a short temper, at least, that's what I believed. But when I look back now, I can see that I was expressing a lot of anger. One moment stands out more than any other. My oldest son, Ben, was only four years old. I was trying to get him ready for bed and he was resisting every step

I had a conversation with someone recently who had just returned from a two-week vacation. She told me how much she enjoyed her vacation but also said that she had burnt herself out in the weeks leading up to the trip. She had worked extra hours, tried to get ahead on everything, made sure everyone else was taken care of, tied up every loose end, and pushed herself right to the edge so she could finally leave. And I thought, how many of us are living like this? How many of us

This month is a big one. My firstborn, Ben, turns 18. He graduates from high school and in just a few months he will be leaving for university. Even writing those words brings tears to my eyes because nobody really prepares you for this part. When your children are little, people tell you all the time: "It goes so fast." "Enjoy every minute." "You'll miss this one day." And I know they mean well but when you're in it, really in it, it's hard to understand or imagine what they