Leap of Faith Award
Amplifier of Good Award
Leap of Faith Award
1. What leap did you take that changed your life forever?
The biggest leap I took that changed my life forever —was in 2017, walking away from a secure, stable job in the Department of Education after 12 years. I had a permanent position, worked Monday to Friday, 8:30am to 3:30pm, and had 12 weeks of paid annual leave every year. It was comfortable, reliable, and ticked a lot of boxes, especially as a working mum. I was settled and had built a strong career. I had even started studying a Bachelor of Education and Psychology part time at uni to further my education and skills.
But life doesn’t always go to plan. My daughter Gabriella was nearing the end of her schooling, and that brought on a wave of uncertainty. Gabriella is 23 now and lives with multiple complex disabilities, including a rare genetic disorder known only as Inverted Duplication Deletion 8p, Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum, Cerebral Palsy, Severe Intellectual and Global Developmental Delay, Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome and more. She requires around-the-clock care and support—and yet, she’s one of the happiest, most loving people you could ever meet.
As she approached life after school, my husband and I started looking into post-school programs and what we found was disappointing. Many of the options felt outdated, unstimulating, or simply didn’t cater to people with higher support needs like Gabriella. She was and is so vulnerable. I remember thinking, If this is all that’s available, then what happens to young people like her? Who is going to look after her? There’s so many people in these programs, mixed ages and abilities. There has to be more to life for her. She deserves so much more. I wanted Gabriella to live a full life, one where she was accepted and a part of our community.
And that’s when the decision came. I needed more flexibility to support Gabriella—and more than that, I felt I had to create something better. So, I started thinking and planning and eventually resigned from the Department of Education.
I left the security of my job and leaped into the unknown. My background as an Enrolled Nurse and my time in special education with my studies had given me a solid foundation, but this was a different kind of challenge.
I was sitting in hospital with Gabriella one day and I began thinking about names, began drawing a logo. Eventually, I came up with Plan Wise Living and a logo of two people holding a heart with a dna strand at the bottom. The name was to reflect “Plan wisely for the life you want to live” and the logo represents two people caring for another irrespective of their dna. The two people could be my husband and I, a carer and a parent, two carers, it represented Gabriella’s world at the time and still does today.
I worked hard and jumped through many hoops for Plan Wise Living to become an NDIS registered provider. Gabriella graduated school and I employed carers, one specifically who cared for Gabriella. She would take Gabriella out into the community and provide many life experiences – just as I had planned for Gabriella. During their outings, they would meet people in the community and one day, they met another young adult with her mum. They got to talking about the program we created for Gabriella and thought they would like to be a part of it. That young lady is still a part of our program today and is Gabriella’s best friend. They have built a beautiful friendship and have a very unique, connection. As the years went on and the program grew, I wanted to do more for the young adults, but funds were tight.
So once again, I took a big leap of faith. I decided I wanted to create a not-for-profit charity. One that would enable us to fundraise and receive donations to purchase equipment and resources for our young adults. Creating this not-for-profit would mean creating a board of directors and seeing me giving up ownership of the company I had worked hard for. It would mean sharing my company with others. But I did it. I put Plan Wise Living to the side for a little while, knowing I couldn’t close the door completely.
So together with my husband Jake, who became CEO, and our new board of directors, Genovation was created. A not-for-profit organisation focused on providing real, meaningful and purposeful support for young adults with complex disabilities.
At the heart of Genovation is the Young Adult Enrichment Program (YAEP)—a program that gives young adults with complex disabilities the chance to keep learning, stay active, connect with their community, and feel valued, every single day. It’s not about ticking boxes or babysitting—it’s about purpose and quality of life.
That leap wasn’t just a career shift; it was a whole life shift. There was no guarantee of success. No safety net. But it was driven by something bigger—by the belief that Gabriella, and others like her, deserve more than what the system was offering.
There have been challenges—financial pressure, physical and emotional load, mental burnout and the usual doubts that come with starting something from scratch. But watching Gabriella smile as she goes to her program, seeing young adults just like her, now forming friendships, making connections in the community, those moments make it all worth it.
Taking that leap gave me the freedom to be present for my daughter while building something meaningful. It taught me that security is nice—but sometimes you have to give it up to build what truly matters.
It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t part of the original plan. But it was the right decision. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s when your gut says leap—listen. Sometimes the biggest leaps lead to the most meaningful rewards.
And to the women wondering if it’s too late to start something new at 40-plus: it’s not. Sometimes, that’s exactly when your real purpose begins.
Q2. What emotions did you battle before taking the leap?
All of them, if I’m being honest. It was an emotional rollercoaster that challenged me in every way—mentally, emotionally, and physically and it still does.
There was fear about leaving a secure job and stepping into the unknown. There was fear of leaving a secure job, of not knowing if I was doing the right thing, of risking stability for my family. I had worked so hard to build a solid career, and walking away felt like I was stepping off a cliff
There was also worry—about finances, about failing, about what would happen if it didn’t work. I was leaving a job with a steady income and benefits. There were sleepless nights and long conversations with my husband where we both had to face those unknowns together. We had a mortgage, bills, responsibilities, and a daughter who needed full-time care. I questioned whether I was doing the right thing, risking stability and putting everything at risk.
There was so much doubt. I wasn’t a CEO. I wasn’t a businesswoman. I was a mum, a former nurse, and someone who had worked in special education for years. I had the heart and experience, but could I really turn a vision into a sustainable organisation?
And then came the imposter syndrome. That voice in my head constantly asked, Who do you think you are to do this? I worried people wouldn’t take me seriously, that I’d fail in front of everyone. That I didn’t have enough “credibility” to build an organisation from scratch. I often looked up to the large organisations that have been going for decades and thought how can I do that? They’re the experts, so what am I doing that’s different to them?
Stress became part of my daily life. The hours I put in were endless. I worked late at night, on weekends, in between Gabriella’s care and appointments. Starting this journey wasn’t a 9-to-5—it was a full-time commitment layered on top of an already full-time life.
That commitment came at a cost. The pressure nearly broke me—and it nearly broke my marriage. My husband Jake and I were both passionate about this journey, but the emotional, financial, and time strain tested us like never before. I was working around the clock to get established, and not getting paid, pouring everything we had into this dream, while still being mum to Gabriella. Jake had to increase his care while still working full-time to support us. It was exhausting, and there were moments when I wasn’t sure if we would get through it together.
But through all of that, there was also hope. There was determination. There was a sense of purpose that I couldn’t ignore. Every time I thought about Gabriella and young people like her, I reminded myself this is why you’re doing it. And when the first few steps of the program came to life, there were sparks of joy and deep fulfilment that made it all feel worth it.
So yes, I went through fear, doubt, imposter syndrome, worry, and stress—and at times it almost consumed me. But I also found strength, happiness, and a fierce commitment that carried me through. The leap didn’t take those emotions away, but it taught me to keep going anyway—and that’s what changed everything.
Q3. What was the first sign you were on the right path?
It was a small moment—but it had a big impact.
I’d been working in the business for months. Gabriella was still at school, nearing the end of her final year. At that stage, I was wearing every hat possible: setting up the business, working directly with participants, driving the bus, providing hands-on support—including evenings and weekends. It was early days, and everything still felt uncertain. I was running on sheer determination for my vision.
But everything changed when Gabriella finally started in our “program.” One day, Gabriella and her carer were out in the community when they crossed paths with another mum and her daughter, who also lives with complex disabilities. They got chatting and the mum began asking questions: Where does Gabriella go? What program is she in? She looks so happy—how can we be part of this?
That moment was my a-ha moment. It was the first time someone completely outside of our circle saw what we were doing and recognised its value. There was no marketing. No sales pitch. Just one mum, seeing another young woman with disabilities looking joyful and engaged, and realising that her daughter deserved the same.
I met with the mum and her daughter and she soon joined us—and that was the moment things really began to grow. She is still with us today and has become Gabriella’s best friend. They have a beautiful unspoken language between them. They look for each other in the mornings and reach out to each other on the bus. It’s really special and warms my heart. My daughter has found her place.
With two young women now out and about in the community, supported by our team, people began to notice us. They saw our carers wearing our uniforms. They looked us up, reached out, and wanted to know more. Slowly, word of mouth started to build. More families and professionals in the NDIS space contacted us. Staff who shared our values came on board. What started as something for Gabriella began transforming into something for others too. That was always part of my vision. For Gabriella to find her tribe, to find her special place and thrive as a young adult.
That day marked a shift—from personal to purposeful. It was the first clear sign that the leap I had taken wasn’t just right for us—it was needed by many and my vision was valuable.
Q4. How has this decision inspired others around you?
Over the years, I’ve seen how my decision to take that leap and build both Plan Wise Living and Genovation has quietly, but powerfully, inspired those around me. What started as a personal mission for my daughter has grown into something much bigger—something others have taken to heart and now carry with pride.
One of the clearest examples of this is a young woman who first joined Plan Wise Living as a casual carer, supporting just one participant. At the time, she was also working full-time in an administration job in another industry. I could see something in her—a sense of loyalty, integrity, and quiet determination. I kept offering her more shifts, but she was content juggling her full-time role and casual work with us.
As our organisation grew, I saw an opportunity and offered her a part-time position that combined her admin skills and carer experience. She accepted—and it wasn’t long before she was full-time with us in administration. She quickly became our scheduler, then our administration manager, and then our Executive Assistant. Today she is a Senior staff member and also a Board Director for our not-for-profit, Genovation.
What moves me most is that she adopted our story like it was her own. She retells it with genuine pride—about Gabriella, the vision, the journey we’ve walked. When she learned of my dream to start a not-for-profit and the need for three founding directors, she didn’t hesitate. She offered herself for the role, fully understanding the commitment and responsibility it would take. That meant so much to me. We were later joined by another mum of a young daughter with complex disabilities, and together we formed our founding board.
I’ve also watched many young women come through Genovation and grow. I’ve always tried to help them discover their strengths and think beyond the role they’re in. I’ve supported carers to step into coordinator and management positions—encouraging them, mentoring them, reminding them that their impact matters.
I often say, if someone had told me ten years ago that I would be the director of not one, but two companies, managing over 30 staff and supporting more than 60 participants, I would’ve laughed in disbelief. But here we are. And I hope that by sharing both our struggles and our successes—our hard days and our high points—seeing what our young adults can achieve with the right supports, our team feels inspired to dream a little bigger, dig a little deeper, and know that anything is possible when your work comes from the heart.
Q5. If you could go back, what would you tell yourself before you jumped?
I would tell myself: Do it. Don’t stop. Don’t second-guess. Don’t look back. You will never feel completely ready—and that’s okay. Take the leap anyway.
I would remind myself that this journey will be one of the hardest, most emotional, and most rewarding things you’ll ever do. There will be days when you feel like you're climbing a mountain barefoot, in the dark. But you'll also discover strength you didn’t know you had, and moments that will fill your heart in ways you never imagined.
I would tell myself to start building networks early—and to hold tight to them. The people who walk alongside you in the early days, the ones who believe in your vision before it’s fully formed, are rare and valuable. I’m still in touch with some of those people today, and I only wish I’d nurtured those relationships even more. People will come into your life at different times, for different reasons. Some are blessings. Some are lessons. Learn to tell the difference—and keep your circle intentional.
I would say: Be open-minded, but tread carefully. Not everyone will understand your story. Some people will admire it, and some may even try to use it against you. It’s not always personal—but it will feel that way sometimes. Stay grounded in who you are and why you're doing this. Stay kind. Even when people challenge you—and they will—don’t be afraid of that. Lean into it. Embrace the challenge, learn from it, grow through it.
And while you're growing—never stop learning. Whether it’s a short course, a new qualification, or just a conversation with someone—take it all in. Learning is lifelong. It’s in every leadership challenge, every staffing issue, every policy you have to write. Stay curious. Stay humble. Stay committed to learning something new all the time.
I would also tell myself this: Don’t give away too much of yourself in the process. It’s easy to pour everything into something you believe in—especially when it’s so deeply tied to your heart and family. Make time for yourself. Make time for your family. Protect your health. Stress has a way of sneaking up on you—it shows up in your body, your sleep, your relationships—and it can bring you to your knees when you least expect it.
So, pace yourself. Take breaks without guilt. Rest when you need to and ask for help more often than you think you should. You don't have to do it all alone. Learn to lean on your team, sometimes helping you gives them time to shine and also learn.
I would tell myself to always hold your high and speak with dignity and respect, even in the face of frustration. Your example, especially as a woman leading something new and bold, will matter more than you know—not just to others, but to yourself.
I’d also remind myself that success isn’t always loud. Sometimes it looks like quiet progress. A smile on your daughter’s face. A family who says thank you. A staff member who tells your story like it’s their own. Those moments matter more than the big milestones—don't miss them because you're busy chasing the next thing.
And lastly, I’d tell myself: You’re not building a business. You’re building a movement. One that will reach people far beyond what you can see right now. You won’t always realise it in the moment, but every step you take is creating something real, something lasting, something that matters.
So go ahead. Take the leap. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. And one day, you’ll look back—not with regret, but with deep, quiet pride—and realise that the version of you who jumped didn’t need to have all the answers. She just needed to believe it was possible.
Amplifier of Good Award
1. What cause or mission lights you up the most?
There’s more than one thing that lights me up, and honestly, it’s hard to separate them because they’re all connected — through my work, my family, and my heart.
At the centre of it all is Genovation — the not-for-profit I co-founded to support young adults with complex disabilities and care needs, like my daughter Gabriella. What lights me up is creating a space where people like Gabriella, who are so often left out because of disability or overlooked can feel included, valued, and connected. Genovation isn’t just a workplace or a service — it’s a community. It’s a place where we celebrate people exactly as they are, and where we believe that every person deserves a life filled with purpose and joy.
One of my favourite things is watching the friendships that form between our young adults — often through non-verbal communication, eye contact, facial expressions and sounds. They have their own language, and it’s beautiful. Seeing them light up when they arrive at the program, the way they look out for each other — that fills my heart. That’s what lights me up.
But my mission doesn’t stop with the participants. I care deeply about our staff too. I know how hard they work and how emotionally demanding this kind of support can be. That’s why creating a safe, welcoming, supporting and respectful environment for them is also so important to me. I try to lead with kindness, always be grateful, and make sure people know they’re appreciated. It’s not always perfect — we have tough days, just like any workplace — but I do my best to learn and grow through those moments.
I’m also incredibly proud that Genovation has an all-female board of directors — something you don’t often see. Women are so often overlooked for board and leadership roles, especially in this sector. Our workforce is made up mostly of women, and I believe leadership should reflect that. One of our board directors actually started out working alongside me as a frontline carer. Over the years, I’ve mentored and supported her to grow in her role, and I encouraged her to enrol in and complete a university diploma. To now have her sitting at the board table, contributing her voice and insight — it’s one of my proudest achievements. That’s what empowerment looks like.
And of course, my daughter Gabriella is at the heart of all of this. She’s the reason Genovation exists. She’s the reason I show up every day with so much determination. Being her mum, and watching her face challenges most people will never understand, has made me who I am. My mission is to give her, and others like her, the chance to live a life that’s rich in love, connection, and meaning.
Genovation isn’t just my job — it’s my life’s work. It’s my way of creating a better world not only for Gabriella but for every family who feels like the system has no place for their young adult. My husband and I now walk this road together — as parents, carers, and co-founders. And while there are days I feel exhausted and overwhelmed, I also know that Genovation has shaped me into the person I am today. I’ve grown through this work, and I carry that growth with humility and gratitude.
As I often say: “As a society, we’ve come a long way to accepting people with disabilities — but we still have a long way to go to true inclusion and understanding.”
And that’s the road I’ll keep walking — with my heart, my work, and my whole self. That’s my mission that lights me up.
2. How have you used your platform or business to create positive change?
Being a mum to my beautiful 23-year-old daughter Gabriella — who lives with multiple and complex disabilities, and received her first diagnosis at 16 months old — changed the entire course of my life. I changed my life plans and career from nursing to special education. I spent over a decade working in special education and seven years as an Enrolled Nurse, so I’ve seen the system from every angle: as a parent, as a carer, and as a professional. But no amount of experience ever prepared me for the heartbreak of watching Gabriella reach adulthood and be left with so few opportunities for growth, learning, or connection. That’s when I knew something had to change — and that maybe I could be the one to help change it.
So, I poured everything I had — my knowledge, my experience, my heartbreak, and my hope — into creating Genovation, a not-for-profit charity that exists to make sure young adults like Gabriella are not forgotten once they leave school. I wanted to build something that didn’t just “tick boxes” or fill a gap — I wanted to create something that brought purpose, dignity, and joy into their everyday lives. That vision became the Young Adult Enrichment Program (YAEP).
YAEP is about lifelong learning — not just in the academic sense, but in the ways that really matter: forming friendships, building confidence, being part of the community, and exploring new experiences. It’s a place where young adults with high support needs are not seen as “too complex” — they are seen as capable, worthy, and full of potential.
But my mission for positive change extends beyond just the participants. I’ve also used Genovation to lift up women in the disability sector — a workforce that is mostly female but too often underrepresented in leadership. I’m proud to say we have an all-female board, and that one of our current directors started with us as a frontline carer. I believed in her potential and encouraged her growth — supporting her to enrol in and complete a university diploma. To see her now at the board table, using her voice and experience to help shape the future of our organisation, is one of the most rewarding outcomes of this journey.
Through Genovation, I advocate constantly — for better systems, more inclusive policies, and respect for the voices of families and carers. I speak up in meetings, forums, and community spaces, not just as a leader but as a mum who knows what it feels like to be silenced. Every day, I try to turn my lived experience into a platform for action — so that other families won’t have to fight quite as hard as we did.
Creating Genovation hasn’t just been about building a service — it’s been about building a movement. A reminder that even in the most challenging spaces, positive change is possible when it comes from a place of love, truth, and courage.
As part of my work and roles within Genovation, I have been successful in my application with Camden Council for the last two years to be a part of their Access Reference Group. I volunteer my time to assist with creating and implementing the Disability Inclusion Action Plan as well as work with Council to provide community feedback on how we can create greater accessibility within our local government areas.
3. Tell us about a moment you saw your "good work" ripple outward.
There have been a few moments over the years where I’ve felt the ripple effect of the work I’ve done, but three in particular really stand out.
Being a volunteer on my local council Access Reference Group, a Cert 4 in Disability student was given my details to assist him and his group with an assignment. I was invited to speak to a room full of TAFE students studying Certificate III, IV and Diploma in Disability, Community Services and Case Management. Also in attendance were other organisations and community groups. I’ll admit, I was nervous. I had a speech prepared and rehearsed, just in case the nerves took over. But as I began, I found my rhythm. I reminded myself this was my story — no one else could tell it better, because I had lived it and it was literally my story. I found myself speaking with passion, honesty, and even a bit of humour. I saw students nodding, smiling and I felt we were connecting. Afterwards, many of them came up to speak with me — not just to say thank you, but to ask how they could be part of my organisation. It was overwhelming in the best way.
As I was packing up, a man walked by and told me I was very good — he told me I spoke very well and that they need more people like me. I thanked him and asked his name, only to find out he was one of the head teachers. I was genuinely humbled. Later, a woman approached me and said when her student told her they’d selected me for their project, she was hesitant — she hadn’t heard of me or my organisation. But after hearing me speak, she was impressed, and we’ve since met to organise student placements at Genovation. That moment reminded me how powerful sharing your story can be.
Another ripple came when I represented two of our participants at a roundtable meeting with parliamentary ministers, including Minister Bill Shorten at the time. I shared my participants stories — their needs, their challenges, where their funding was lacking — and advocated for the support they deserved. Within weeks, we saw real change. Their NDIS plans were improved, their supports increased. One of those participants was an older quadriplegic man sleeping on an old wooden bed chocked up with bricks, lying on an old sheepskin that had caused painful pressure areas and using a partly broken manual wheelchair. After my advocacy, he received a new hospital style bed with an automated turning system, a hoist, a powerchair and other essential equipment. His health, dignity, and independence were greatly improved. That ripple changed his life and he, together with his family were beyond grateful. I still care for that man today and his family still keep in touch. He still tells any new carers what I did for him and that is heartwarming.
And finally, I see the ripple every time I hear from the community. We’re still one of the smallest organisations in our area, but our reputation continues to grow. We support a small number of young children and teenagers with complex disabilities in their homes and during school holidays. These children and teenagers attend Schools for Specific Purposes. I feel I connect well with them and their families, given my 12 years working in special education and being Gabriella’s mum. These families have spoken to their teachers and school principals about us and special needs schools and local professionals have come to meet and know us and now refer to us as leaders in complex care. That kind of recognition — built slowly, through trust and impact — means more to me than any number on a spreadsheet. It tells me that the work we’re doing is meaningful. That it’s being felt.
That’s the kind of ripple I want to keep creating.
4. What obstacles did you face while amplifying others?
There have been many obstacles along the way — and I think one of the hardest parts has been pushing back against a system that often feels rigid, underfunded, and deeply disconnected from the reality of people living with complex disabilities.
When I first started Genovation, I was met with a lot of “no’s” — no funding, no support, no space for something different. People didn’t understand why I wanted to create a program so tailored to young adults with high support needs. I was often told that the existing options were “good enough.” But they weren’t. They weren’t good enough for my daughter, and they weren’t good enough for the families and young people I had met over the years. It was incredibly disheartening to feel like I had to constantly explain why these young people deserved more — more dignity, more opportunity, more connection.
Another challenge has been navigating the emotional toll. As a mum, as a wife, as a carer, as a leader — I carry a lot. There have been moments where I’ve poured everything into amplifying others, and been left feeling completely burnt out. I’ve had to learn how to balance advocacy and compassion with boundaries and self-care. That hasn’t always come naturally. It’s easy to give all of yourself to the cause when it’s so personal — but it’s not sustainable.
There have also been challenges around changing mindsets. Helping others to see the potential in people who don’t speak, or who communicate in different ways, or who need a high level of physical support — that takes time. It’s not just about raising awareness. It’s about shifting deep-seated attitudes. It’s about helping people see value where they might not have looked before. That can be frustrating and slow, but it’s also where the most powerful change happens.
In the workplace, I’ve had to work hard to amplify the voices of support workers — especially women — who are so often the backbone of this industry, yet rarely given a seat at the table. I’ve mentored staff who never saw themselves as leaders, encouraged them to speak up, and supported their personal and professional growth. But even then, there can be barriers — self-doubt, burnout, the weight of juggling family life and emotional labour. Creating space for others to grow while holding everything together myself has been one of the most rewarding, and most exhausting, parts of this journey. They often say it’s lonely at the top, and that’s so true. It’s my job to carry everyone, but it’s also my job to carry myself.
Despite all of it — or maybe because of it — I keep going. Every obstacle has made me more determined. I didn’t build Genovation because it was easy. I built it because it was needed. And I’ll keep doing the work, even when it’s hard, because I know what’s at stake.
5. What’s your bigger vision for making an even greater impact?
My vision has always been bigger than just one program— but it started with a very personal need: to build something better for my daughter, Gabriella. Now, that personal mission has grown into something much larger. I want to change the way society sees, includes, and supports people with complex disabilities — not just in theory, but in practice.
Through Genovation, I’ve seen firsthand what’s possible when young adults with high support needs are given the right environment. They flourish. They connect. They feel joy. And their families — who are often carrying so much — finally feel seen and supported too. My vision is to take what we’ve created and amplify it. I want to see more programs like YAEP across Australia, especially in regional and underserved areas. I want families to know that they don’t have to accept “just getting by.” There is another way.
I want to see Genovations idea of Innovation through the Generations come to life. This will include specialised disability care for children in daycare right through to the elderly and all the families who care for their loved ones with disabilities.
I want to create a beautiful centre where the YAEP attends. This centre will be fully accessible, in the middle of communities, with fully accessible play equipment, spaces to learn and explore daily life activities, a mini farm with animals for them to love and be loved by, a hydrotherapy pool for them to have fun while actually doing the therapy they don’t even realise they are doing, because it’s being implemented through joy and fun. It will be a place where school children can come to play – with and without disabilities. It will be a place where people with disabilities will work in the café and on the floor and where families who have members with disabilities can all be together without physical barriers.
But it’s not just about expanding services — it’s about shifting culture. I want to help lead a movement where people with disabilities, no matter how complex their needs, are part of everyday life: at the café, in the workplace, at events, in leadership roles. Inclusion isn’t just ramps and accessible bathrooms — it’s relationships, attitudes, and real opportunity. We still have a long way to go.
Another part of my bigger vision is around empowering the people who provide support. The disability sector is full of compassionate, dedicated people — mostly women — who do incredibly important work and are often underpaid, undervalued, and emotionally stretched. I want to continue building workplaces where support workers feel respected, heard, and supported to grow. I want to invest in their development, give them pathways to leadership, and remind them that what they do changes lives.
I also want to use my voice to influence policy. So often, decisions are made by people who don’t live the realities of disability — people who’ve never had to fight for basic supports or explain their child’s value to a stranger. I believe that lived experience should be part of every boardroom and every policy conversation. I plan to keep showing up, speaking out, and inviting others to the table.
And finally, I want to be a reminder — especially to other mothers and carers — that your voice matters. You don’t have to be a CEO or an expert to lead change. You just have to care deeply enough to start. That’s what I did. And if I can keep growing that impact, then I know I’m honouring Gabriella, our community, and every person who’s ever been told they’re “too complex” to be included.