On why burnout might be the push you didn't know you needed There's a particular kind of tired that isn't fixed by sleep. I know, because I've felt it. That Sunday-evening feeling that starts creeping in around 4pm — the dread that settles in your chest before the week has even begun. The kind of tired where you're sitting in a meeting and you genuinely cannot remember why any of this matters. Where you're ticking things off a list, performing competence, going through every

I filed neuroplasticity under jargon. I was wrong. The biology behind why the story isn't over — written by a stroke survivor.

By coffee number ten, I'd finally managed to pour the milk in the right cup. My six-year-old helped. She didn't make a big deal of it. A week later, I thought I'd cracked it — only to drop the whole cup when I lifted it with my stroke hand. And I just stood there in my kitchen, surrounded by the mess, thinking: Sisyphus. Pushing the boulder up the mountain. Watching it roll back down. Getting up tomorrow and doing it all again. That's the thing nobody tells you when you sign

I remember being pregnant with my first. The excitement about finally meeting him. The terror of what I would do without an operating manual to help me through. The acceptance that the next few years of my life would be spent craving more sleep than I would ever get. What I wasn’t prepared for was the heavy weight of guilt that comes along with every child. Literally from day one. Did we get the right car seat? Will he be safe? Am I holding him right? Why won’t he fee

I tried to have it all—brilliant career, perfect motherhood, flawless home. Then my stroke forced me to learn a better way. You don't need it all to be happy.

Lived experience matters. Peer Support: A Real Route To Representation.

Recovering from a stroke is a journey that's physical, cognitive, mental and more... Three years ago, I told a neurologist that I woke up...

Fighting for continuity of care. Becoming your own best friend.

This isn’t the end of my story. It’s a reset. A second chance. And with that comes clarity, courage, and a deeper understanding of what it means to be alive.

This story isn’t about trashing the NHS. It saved my life. But once I was discharged, I entered a void.

Three years ago, I had a stroke. I was young. 43. Career-driven, chief of staff at a high-growth start-up. Every task was urgent.