Share a time when being raw and real changed everything for you.

There was a time in my life (not that long ago) when I had nowhere to live, no money and what felt like no way out.

I was drowning in debt. I’d struggled with gambling and alcohol addictions. And I was mentally and emotionally broken. I hadn’t told anyone the full truth because I was too embarrassed and ashamed to admit where I was really at.

I kept thinking, “I should have my life together by now.” But I didn’t. And I continued pretending to family and friends that everything was okay.

At 49, I had to ask a friend if I could stay with them because I had nowhere else to go. That was the day everything changed. That moment was both humbling and confronting. I hit rock bottom. I lost my confidence. I lost my sense of identity. But for the first time, I was completely honest with myself. No more sugar-coating. No more “I’m fine.” I was not okay and I had to face that truth.

Being raw and real in that moment didn’t magically fix everything. But it opened the door to healing.

I began to take responsibility for the choices that led me there - not from a place of guilt or shame, but from a desire to create something better for myself.

I started rebuilding my life, one small step at a time. And somewhere along the way, I realised I wanted to share my story, not because it had a neat happy ending, but because it was real.

That’s how my book Budget Right: Eliminate debt and improve your financial and mental wellbeing was born. It’s not just about budgeting and money. It’s about facing the truth, taking back your power, and remembering your worth.

The more I shared, the more people told me, “You made me feel seen.” That’s when I truly understood that vulnerability doesn’t make you weak. It makes you a light for someone else who’s still stuck in the dark.

How do you balance vulnerability and leadership?

I used to think I had to hide the messy parts of my story to be taken seriously. I thought that if I wanted to help people, I had to show up “fixed”,  which to me meant being successful, sorted and strong. But the truth is, pretending to be perfect only creates distance. People don’t connect with perfection. They connect with realness.

So now, I lead by example, and that means being honest about where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.

When I speak about budgeting, addiction or rebuilding my life after hitting rock bottom, I share both the practical steps and the emotional side. I don’t shy away from the raw bits - the panic of overdue bills, the shame of addiction, the dark moments when I didn’t want to keep going and the deep loneliness of starting over.

Because that’s what so many people are actually living through. And they’re tired of being told to “just do better” without anyone acknowledging the emotional weight behind it.

Balancing vulnerability and leadership means knowing when to share and always sharing with purpose. I don’t share to shock or overshare. I share to serve. I ask myself, “Will this help someone feel less alone? Will it give them hope or clarity?” If the answer is yes, I tell the truth.

And here’s the beautiful part: being vulnerable has never undermined my credibility - it’s built it.

People trust me because I don’t pretend anymore. They know I’ve walked through the fire and I’m still standing. And that gives them the belief they can stand up too.

Vulnerability creates connection and connection is the foundation of leadership.

Whether I’m writing, mentoring or speaking, I never try to be the expert with all the answers. I aim to be someone real enough to say, “I’ve been there and I’ll walk beside you while you find your way out.”

How has your authenticity made others feel seen or heard?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people are craving honesty and connection. Not the surface-level, polished-to-perfection kind - but real, raw, human connection. That’s what happens when you’re authentic and tell the truth.

When I started sharing my story, I was scared. I worried people would judge me - and yes, some did. But what actually happened was the opposite (mostly). People were drawn to the honesty. They saw me as someone they could open up to. I became a safe space, not because I had all the answers, but because I was willing to say, “Me too.”

         And for me, that’s everything.

I’ve had people tell me that my story gave them hope or helped them find the courage to admit where they were at, maybe for the first time. One person told me they had never said out loud that they had a gambling addiction, until they heard me speak. They said they finally felt safe enough to share it.

Since then, I’ve worked with them on their budget and helped them put practical strategies in place. But more than that, I gave them a space free from shame and that’s where the real change starts.

         These moments remind me why authenticity matters so deeply.

When someone is brave enough to tell the truth, it gives others permission to be honest too. And that honesty is where growth and healing begin.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I just share what I know, how I felt and what helped me. And in doing that, I help others feel seen - even in their messiness. Especially in their messiness.

Being real shows people they’re not broken. They’re not failing. They’re human and they’re not alone.