The summer holidays aren’t a break for you…but you still matter

Summer brings longer days, school holidays, and, for many women, a silent pressure to carry even more. While the world paints it as a season of rest and ease, your reality might look very different: juggling work, childcare, logistics, and the emotional weight of keeping everything afloat. Mine certainly does.

There’s little space for stillness. And even less for you.

I work with women who are often the glue in other people’s lives. Women who quietly manage the invisible load: the meal plans, the playdates, the emails, the emotional support, the everything. And when the school holidays hit, that load doesn’t lessen. It grows.

So if fitness and self-care feel impossible right now, I want you to know: you’re not failing. You’re full.

But I also want you to remember that you matter too.

Why self-care feels like another task (but isn’t)

When you’re already stretched thin, even the word self-care can feel like a demand. One more thing to add to your list. One more thing you’re not doing well enough or often enough.

But I invite you to see it differently. Not as a luxury or indulgence, but as a quiet reclaiming of self in a season where your identity risks being swallowed by duty.

You don’t need a perfectly curated morning routine or an hour at the gym. You need permission to take five deep breaths without being interrupted. You need five minutes of movement to remember that you exist in a body…and that body is worthy of care.

Movement as a form of self-respect

At Mettle & Grace, I don’t push transformation. I don’t glorify exhaustion. I honour the small, steady acts of strength that often go unseen.

Movement, to me, isn’t about chasing a version of yourself you don’t recognise. It’s about returning to the one who’s already here. The one who shows up, every day, even when no one sees how hard that is.

In the thick of summer chaos, movement can become your tether. Not a task, but a homecoming.

Tiny acts of resistance (and worth)

You don’t need a plan. You don’t need a programme. You need something that fits into your life, not something that competes with it.

Start here:

• Five minutes of stretching while the kettle boils

• A short, breath-led flow before bed

• Dancing in the kitchen to one song that makes you feel alive

These are not small - they are bold. Each are acts of resistance in a culture that rewards your silence and your self-sacrifice.

You deserve to take up space — even now

There’s a story many women carry that says: “I’ll come back to myself when things quiet down.” But the truth is, things rarely do. There will always be something, someone, some reason to wait.

So here’s my invitation: don’t wait. Choose you now: in the noise, in the mess, in the middle of the madness. Your worth is not seasonal. Your needs are not an afterthought. You are not a machine.

You are a woman with mettle. And you deserve grace.

If this season feels too full to leave the house, but you still want to move, I offer in-home sessions designed for this exact moment in life. No performance. No pressure. Just you, as you are.

Rain or shine: on daughters, dance, and the spaces we keep safe

It’s been a hectic few weeks: full of milestones and mascara, dresses and disbelief. Lucy’s finally finished school, A levels are now a distant memory, and we’ve had prom and the school leavers’ ceremony… all of it arriving faster than I expected. There’s been pride, of course, but also a quiet ache. A sense that something is shifting.

Because it is.

We wait. Not just for results, but for the subtle unravelling of childhood and the quiet shaping of what comes next.

A season of change

I’ve watched her work steadily for 14 year. Never noisily, never looking for applause, just showing up day after day with grit and grace. That quiet determination is something I deeply admire. It’s something I recognise too. In her, I see the same fire that has carried me through the seasons of my own life.

As I find myself looking outward - towards the world, towards places she’s yet to explore - I’m reminded that our journeys can stretch far and wide, but the spaces we hold for one another remain. However far we go, however grown our children become, it matters that they know; you always have a place to return to.

That’s what I hope Mettle & Grace offers women too. A space that says: come as you are, start where you are, this is yours.

Moving together, come rain or shine

Also this weekend, Kenilworth Carnival returns. Rain or shine, it draws us out. Families lining pavements, children dancing in sequins and face paint, generations waving from floats. It’s an event that has always meant something to me. Not because it’s grand, but because it brings people together. I’ve walked and danced in it as an adult, alongside Lucy and her dance school, year after year. It’s stitched into our story.

It reminds me that movement isn’t always a solo act. Sometimes it’s shared. Sometimes it’s joyful. Sometimes, it’s simply a way to keep going—one foot in front of the other, even when the skies are grey. And in that, movement becomes more than physical - it becomes a quiet resilience. A return to self. A reminder that strength doesn’t always roar; sometimes it simply continues.

To all the mothers watching their daughters take flight, and all the daughters carrying a little of their mothers with them - I see you.

And whether you’re moving forward or circling back, know this: Mettle & Grace is here. A place to come home to, rain or shine.

To the men who loved quietly

Every Father’s Day, my feed fills with heartfelt tributes. And while much of my work celebrates feminine strength, today I want to honour the men who helped shape mine.

My grandfather was a miner—a small man with rough hands and a gentle heart. He lived with us, and though I didn’t understand it then, his quiet presence became foundational. He loved me without condition. Our time together was simple: trips to the allotment, where I’d “help” him with the plants. I still remember the earthy smell, his calm voice, the feeling of safety.

He showed me that love doesn’t need to be loud to be lasting.

My father, though complicated, showed up in ways that counted. When I fell in love with gymnastics, he didn’t just drive me 25 miles a night, six days a week - he got out of the car and became a coach. That act of participation, of saying “I’m in this with you,” has stayed with me. He’s 82 now, and we still speak every day.

His support wasn’t perfect, but it was persistent.

And now, as I build Mettle & Grace, I’m walking a new path with my husband beside me. His belief in what I’m creating gives me strength. It’s a quiet kind of partnership - the kind that holds space, steadies the wobble, and says, “I’m proud of you. Go for it. I’ve got you.”

So this Father’s Day, I want to honour the men who didn’t need to be the centre. Who loved without noise. Who supported without the spotlight. And who showed up, again and again.

Thank you for helping me grow.

This is not a comeback — it’s a beginning

The strength I once knew

For years, I lived in a body that felt strong, reliable, and fiercely capable. A career in law enforcement had shaped me — physically and mentally — to handle pressure, to push through, to perform.

When everything changed

But becoming a mother changed everything. Not just my schedule or priorities, but my sense of self. My body — once so familiar — became something I barely recognised.

Trying to get back to me

In the early days after pregnancy, I told myself I’d “get back to it soon.” I tried running — because that’s what you’re told to do. But I wasn’t very good at it. I didn’t enjoy it, and my body didn’t respond well. So I tried group classes — bootcamps, high-energy circuits, anything I could squeeze into the edges of a full-time life. But the timings never worked with young children, and I often felt like the odd one out. Everyone seemed to be keeping up but me.

I started to wonder if I’d missed the window. If maybe this new version of me — the one who felt tired, anxious, and overwhelmed — was the one I’d have to settle for.

Not myself, but I didn’t know why

And then came my mid-40s.

I didn’t know I was entering perimenopause at first. I just knew something was off. Sleep became elusive. My energy, unpredictable. My moods, once steady, began to waver. The anxiety crept in quietly at first — a low hum in the background — until it became a weight I couldn’t shake.

No one warned me it could feel like this.

Why fitness felt out of reach

Fitness, once a source of confidence and control, began to feel out of reach. Not just physically, but emotionally. I didn’t want to be seen in gym spaces that didn’t feel like mine. I didn’t want to chase an aesthetic I no longer related to. I just wanted to feel like myself again — in a body that had carried life, weathered storms, and was still, in so many ways, extraordinary.

But there wasn’t a space for that kind of journey. At least not one I could find.

So, I created one.

Building what I couldn't find

Mettle & Grace was born not out of ambition, but necessity. A response to the deep, quiet truth I kept hearing — from friends, clients, even strangers: “I feel like I’ve lost myself.”

You are not behind — you are beginning

Here’s what I now know: You are not lost. You are not late. You are simply in a new chapter — one that requires a different kind of strength.

The strength to slow down.

The strength to honour your body, not battle it.

The strength to begin again — with softness, with wisdom, with grace.

This isn’t a comeback story. I’m not trying to be who I was in my 30s. This is a beginning — a conscious, compassionate reclaiming. Of movement. Of energy. Of self.

Let’s Begin — On Your Terms

If any of this feels familiar, know that you’re not alone. Whether you’re navigating the shifts of motherhood, perimenopause, or simply the weight of expectation, there is a way forward. And it doesn’t start with a gym membership or a diet plan.

It starts with being seen. Heard. Met exactly where you are.

That’s what Mettle & Grace is for.

Let’s begin — on your terms, in your time.