I attended Clonard from Year 7 through to Year 12, graduating in 2003. When I look back, what remains with me most is the enduring sense of community and the quiet encouragement of teachers who saw something in me before I had the language to see it myself. In particular, I remember Biology and Chemistry with Ms Tolan, a teacher who fostered safety in learning and consistently reminded me to keep going, even when the path felt uncertain. That sense of being gently held while finding your way would come to shape how I live, work, and lead.

I went on to complete my Bachelor of Science in Biotechnology, which led me into a career in clinical research, coordinating cancer trials and working alongside medical and academic professionals across disciplines. I have managed the start-up of clinical research units and served as the face of participant recruitment, including delivering international presentations on effective recruitment strategies. The key, I always say, is simple: treat every patient as a human being.

However, my drive to do more did not stop there. Drawing on Ms Tolan’s advocacy for me, and the quiet confidence she helped instil, I continued to explore how science, systems, and society intersect. In 2015, I completed a Postgraduate Diploma in Human Nutrition, which deepened my understanding of preventative health and public education. This was followed by a Postgraduate Certificate in Public Health, awarded in 2025 with a Dean’s Commendation for academic excellence.

These studies expanded my focus beyond the clinical space and into health equity and systems-level reform. I recently co-authored a national literature review to support policy development on healthy ageing, contributing to Australia’s evolving approach to integrated care, prevention, and community-based models. This work has strengthened my belief that policy is not just about strategy, it is about people, lived experience, and the courage to imagine better futures.

Alongside this, I began to reimagine my relationship with movement and wellbeing. I recently became a qualified Studio Pilates Matwork Instructor, not to chase a trend, but to create inclusive spaces where women over 40 can reconnect with their bodies, navigate hormonal change with strength and self-compassion, and reclaim their sense of self in what I call the second stage of life. My work also extends to adults over 50, focusing on the prevention of frailty and supporting functional movement that enables people to live independently and with dignity for longer.

Inspired by my professional network and the policy work I have contributed to, I have become increasingly focused on one core question: we are living longer, but are we living well?

That question has shaped the early foundations of my own venture, The Grounded Forme, a business centred on movement, advocacy, and possibilities. Though still in its infancy, it brings together my Pilates teaching, public health background, future policy writing, and a digital app currently in development. The app, co-designed with others, will provide real-time emotional reflection support for people living with mental health challenges. It is not clinical, it is human. Just like everything I have built, it comes from lived experience.

My journey has also been shaped by mental health. The truth is, I did not do well academically in high school. At the time, I thought I just was not trying hard enough, or that something was wrong with me. It was only years later that I came to understand I had been struggling with depression, anxiety, and what I now recognise as brain fog, a symptom that made it incredibly difficult to retain information, concentrate, or perform under pressure.

Ms Tolan worked tirelessly with me. She organised extra study sessions, spent time helping me revise, and consistently showed belief in my ability. I often did well in those sessions, but when it came to SACs and exams, I would fall apart. One thing she said has stayed with me all these years: “I know that you know this.” And I did. But we did not yet understand what was happening inside my mind, or why I kept faltering when it mattered most.

For much of my twenties and early thirties, I carried that unspoken weight, achieving and appearing fine on the outside, while privately navigating cycles of burnout, self-doubt, and emotional exhaustion. Eventually, I reached a point where I had to stop pretending I was okay and begin the slow process of healing. I sought support through my GP and psychologist, and began to understand how my brain worked, not as a flaw, but as something worth listening to.

In 2025, I made the decision to wean off antidepressants after six months of use. While a relatively short time, that chapter represented years of internal struggle finally being met with care, understanding, and the right support. Coming off the medication was deeply personal and required courage, patience, and trust in myself and my recovery. It marked a turning point, not one of resolution, but of reclamation. A quiet return to self.

Around the same time, I also received a neurodivergent diagnosis, which brought an unexpected but profound sense of peace. For the first time, I began to understand the patterns and sensitivities that had always shaped my thinking, my energy, and the way I moved through the world. It allowed me to stop framing myself as too much or not enough, and instead embrace the possibility that this is simply how I am wired. Knowing this has changed how I speak to myself, how I work, and how I advocate for others. It has become another thread in the larger tapestry of self-understanding, compassion, and purpose.

This chapter of my life has led me toward mental health advocacy, with a focus on real, human-centred approaches to care. Whether it is through policy, Pilates, or a conversation with someone who feels unseen, I believe we each have a role to play in creating a world where no one has to suffer in silence.

Perhaps Ms Tolan was never meant to be teaching Biology or Chemistry. And while I still hold a deep respect for how science helps us understand the body, the mind, and the world we live in, I have since been drawn in a different direction, toward public health, advocacy, and systems change. In hindsight, I wonder if she was always meant to be someone who showed me that path instead. Not by lecturing, but by believing. Not by forcing outcomes, but by making space for someone like me to exist as I was, quietly struggling but still worthy of support.

That early experience planted something in me that took years to take root: the belief that compassion and care are forms of leadership. Today, those values shape everything I do, from co-authoring national policy on healthy ageing, to creating inclusive spaces for movement, to advocating for mental health through lived experience. I am still learning, still evolving, and still returning to those quiet moments of impact that changed my life without either of us knowing it.

To the students of Clonard: your path does not have to look a certain way to matter. You do not need to be top of the class to lead something important. Your lived experience, however messy, misunderstood, or unfinished it may feel, has value. Keep going. Ask for help. Let yourself change your mind. And if you are someone who feels things deeply or struggles in silence, please know you are not broken. You are not behind. You are becoming.