A Year in the Life: The Weight I Carry. The Things I've Built.
As the new academic year approaches, I've taken a moment I rarely allow - to stop. To look back. To really see what I've carried and what I've built. In the chaos of solo parenting two children with very different but equally demanding needs, I often am stretched four ways - my son, my daughter, my business, my house. Never me. So I took a moment in the neat, quiet early hours of the morning to stop and process.
Because the truth is, while Bamboo (Elevate. Balance. Learn.) has grown, while milestones have been reached, none of it happened in a bubble. It happened on the go, in the middle of meltdowns from my son, dominance matches with my daughter, exhaustion, and nights awake until 1am... 2am... sometimes 4:30am, when my mind refused to rest because of the tornado of to-do lists I was always lost in.
My son, preverbal and autistic, doesn't get a pause button. His world is intense filled with sensory storms that can crash over us with no warning, clinging to me for safety because I am his constant. Every transition, every request, every unfamiliar moment: I am the one.
My daughter, fiery and fierce, pushes back in own way. She shouts, resists and sometimes fights me on every tiny request. She definitely tests the edges daily. Some days it genuinely feels like I spend every waking hour pulled in two directions; one child clings to me because I am his anchor. The other shouts at me until my ears ring, because she wants to be heard.
And in the middle of all of that, I am running a business. Alone. With no co-parent to pass the baton to, and now no financial contribution from a father who chose to step away. What was once £200 a month, sometimes less - wasn't much when one child still needed to attend nursery and the other thrives on extracurricular to regulate herself. But it helped with the little things. Now it's gone. And so, I have to work more. I have to stretch myself those few hours more. I am left to find the extra missing pieces.
And yet, despite all of it - here is what this year has held:
Bamboo grew: from just a handful of students to over 35, with 40 children and families supported through tutoring, testing, EHCP advocacy, and coaching. Every single child on my list (including my own) and my growing waitlist, is another reminder of why I do what I do. Why I fight and push through the noise.
I showed up in places I never thought I'd be: from the Mayor's Gala at the golf club, to a sports fundraiser at West Ham Stadium - standing in spaces that once felt out of reach, representing a mission that began at my dining table.
I finished my first book: "Mornings, Meltdowns & Milestones" is my story, our story and it will be out in a matter of weeks! Written through stolen hours after bedtime, typed through tears and exhaustion but finished... I actually finished it.
I was nominated for an award: recognition of everything I have fought for and built on my own. Every child I wrote baseline assessments for, reports for, each family I fought the system for, every tuition session and my own children. It's the first time, I really felt seen.
I published my first neurodivergent-friendly workbook: a tool for children who deserve more than a one-size-fits-all learning. Something that took three months from start to finish and something I created because I know what it's like for a child to need something different.
All of this happened in the last academic year. All of this happened while raising two children as a solo parent.
One who cannot speak yet but shows me that communication is bigger than words and fuels my fight against the borough's decision of his education. One who shouts at me until my ears ring but then curls into my arms because beneath the defiance is love.
This year has pushed me beyond limits but limitations really are what you put on yourself. Sometimes limitations are emotional, mental and or physical but I pushed through my own barriers and I am okay to say that! I am okay to say all I have done because I am proud of myself. The best part of this all, I'm just getting started.
Yes, some days I stood of the verge of tears that never came. But I kept going. Because I had to. Because I knew that if I stopped, everything else stopped too.
If you're reading this as a parent, a business owner or even if you're like me and you are both, please know you are building something extraordinary, you are building something that fuels you, even if it feels invisible - pause and reflect, you might surprise yourself.
This year has stretched me but it has also taught me how to grow.
It hasn't been perfect, it certainly has left some scars but I did it.