Empowerment Path

Empowerment Path Helping women who feel like something's got to change let go of who they thought they had to be, and start living as who they are.

You know you're strong.You're just sick to death of having to be.We hear it when we're going through a difficult time."Y...
16/09/2026

You know you're strong.

You're just sick to death of having to be.

We hear it when we're going through a difficult time.

"You're strong."

"You're resilient."

"You've been through worse."

And we know these things are usually said with love. They're meant to remind us of what we've already survived and reassure us that we'll survive this too.

But sometimes they don't feel reassuring.

Sometimes they feel like another expectation.

You've coped before, so you'll cope again. Just keep going.

Resilience isn't always something to celebrate.

There are times in our lives when resilience is exactly what gets us through. When all we can do is put one foot in front of the other and survive whatever is happening.

But resilience can also become the reason we stay in situations that are exhausting us.

We become so good at coping that we don't stop to ask whether we should still be coping with this at all.

Because being able to tolerate something doesn't mean it's good for us.

I think there comes a point when we don't need to be reminded how strong we are.

We need permission to be tired. To allow ourselves to be supported instead of always being the one who copes.

"Yes, I probably could survive more of this. But I don't want to."

Maybe strength isn't always about carrying on.

Maybe it's deciding that something has to change, listening to what we need now and allowing ourselves to choose a life that doesn't require us to be resilient all the time.

Resilience may have brought us this far.

But we don't have to build the rest of our lives around surviving.

What would strength look like for you if it didn't simply mean carrying on?

I was 21 years old, standing in the toilet of a nightclub on Christmas Eve, looking at myself in the mirror and thinking...
14/09/2026

I was 21 years old, standing in the toilet of a nightclub on Christmas Eve, looking at myself in the mirror and thinking:

Who are you?

And probably, how did this become your life?

I’ll jump back a wee bit.

I’d been in the relationship for four years. He was ten years older than me, and because of a huge fall out with my mum, I’d ended up going to live with him.

A lot of the relationship was great.

But he was jealous and possessive.

And I understood why. His previous relationship had been awful, so I empathised with him. I made allowances for him. I thought that if I could just prove that I was trustworthy, eventually he would feel secure and things would get better.

I think many sensitive, empathic women will recognise this.

We can become so focused on understanding why someone behaves the way they do that we lose sight of what their behaviour is doing to us.

But after four years, I’d started to realise that if he didn’t trust me by now, he was never going to.

And I was sick of trying to prove myself and how isolated I had become.

We’d gone to a nightclub, checked in our coats, and I headed to the toilet while he looked for a table.

I remember my anxiety rising the longer I waited in the queue, knowing he’d be wondering why I was taking so long.

I realised how wrong this was.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror.

Who are you?

It was such a clear moment. I looked at the woman looking back at me and didn’t recognise the person I had become.

When I came out, I bumped into two old friends from school, both men.

They were delighted to see me and wanted to chat, but instead of being pleased to see them, my first thought was that I had to get back to my fiancé immediately and how much trouble I’d be in if he had seen me speaking to them.

I pointed to where he was sitting and told them to follow me.

As I reached the table, I could see that he was angry.

“What took you so long?”

I explained about the queue and told him I’d bumped into two old friends who were coming up to speak to me.

“Please don’t embarrass me.”

“So that’s what took you so long.”

“No, I’d only just bumped into them. The queue took forever.”

Of course, he was rude to them. So rude that they left quite abruptly.

And that was it.

The final straw.

I was so angry with him and embarrassed at what my old friends would think of me for putting up with a partner who behaved like that.

I took off my engagement ring and threw it at him.

And I threw my wine in his face too.

“That’s it. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

And I meant it.

That night didn’t come out of nowhere. Part of me had known for a long time that I needed to leave. But I felt trapped, and I couldn’t see how I could possibly get out.

I had spent years understanding him, empathising with him and trying to prove myself to him.

That night, standing in front of that mirror, I finally looked at me.

Have you ever had a moment when you looked at your own life and thought, how did I get here?

I notice things. Always have.Someone in the street, looking lost with a map; I’d ask if they needed directions.Small exa...
09/09/2026

I notice things. Always have.

Someone in the street, looking lost with a map; I’d ask if they needed directions.

Small example. Here’s another.

Sitting in a room and noticing someone with the sun shining on their face, screwing their eyes slightly. I’d be up adjusting the blind before they’d even said anything.

I’d just do it automatically.

But although these are small examples, this showed up in much bigger ways too.

I realised that I wasn’t only being helpful, but that I’d put myself in charge of everyone else’s comfort.

The rescuer.

And trust me, I had enough on my plate without giving myself another job.

In my last post, I talked about how the good qualities in us can become tangled up with our sense of worth. That was part of what had happened here.

It was only as I started healing my own sense of worth and became aware of the roles I’d taken on that I could see it. I didn’t have to keep everybody else comfortable to be a caring person.

But seeing it and actually doing something differently are two separate things.

So I decided to stop.

Not stop being helpful, but stop automatically jumping in to make everyone else comfortable all the time.

The next time it happened, I made myself sit there.

It felt mildly uncomfortable. Nothing terrible was happening. I could simply see something that I could easily fix, and I was deliberately choosing not to.

And there was a part of me thinking, is that not a bit mean?

Moving the blind would have taken me two seconds. Why wouldn’t I just do it?

Well, two reasons.

They were a grown-up and perfectly capable of doing it for themselves.

But also because I was practising not doing the thing.

Changing the habits of a lifetime isn’t always easy. It can be uncomfortable.

But if we can practise with the small things, it becomes easier when the bigger things come along. The things where saying no, stepping back or allowing somebody else to take responsibility feels much more difficult.

I’m still the person who notices. That hasn’t changed, and I don’t want it to.

I’m just learning that noticing something doesn’t automatically make it my responsibility.

What’s one thing you automatically do for other people that you’d like to practise not doing?

I've come to understand that one of the hardest parts of changing an old pattern is not knowing who you'll be without it...
07/09/2026

I've come to understand that one of the hardest parts of changing an old pattern is not knowing who you'll be without it.

You might be deeply caring and conscientious, someone who genuinely wants to do a good job and be there for the people you love.

Those are good qualities to have. The problem comes when they become tangled up with what you've learned about your worth.

Being caring becomes overgiving.

Doing a good job becomes always having to do more than everyone else.

Being kind becomes staying quiet rather than risk upsetting someone.

And you start to measure your worth by how useful you are.

You might see all of this clearly: the overgiving, not speaking up, not setting boundaries. But knowing that doesn't necessarily make it any easier to change.

Because underneath all of that are much bigger questions:

Will I be enough if I stop overgiving?

Will I still be liked if I say how I really feel and ask for what I want?

Who am I if I'm no longer the person I've always had to be?

That's why changing these patterns can feel so difficult. When a role has shaped who you think you are, letting go of it can feel like you're losing a part of yourself.

Being caring was never the problem.

You don't have to become less kind or less conscientious, and you don't have to stop giving.

The work is learning to separate who you inherently are from everything you learned you had to do to prove your worth.

And perhaps discovering that you were already enough before you did any of it.

Not a Coach. Not a Therapist. So What Am I?I sometimes struggle to find the right words to describe what I do.Because "c...
02/09/2026

Not a Coach. Not a Therapist. So What Am I?

I sometimes struggle to find the right words to describe what I do.

Because "coach" doesn't quite fit.

And "therapist" doesn't fit either.

What happens in a session with me goes deeper than simply talking through what's happening in your life.

I'm a space holder.

An anchor.

A conduit for healing.

A facilitator of transformation.

I create a space where you can feel truly seen, heard, safe and held, often in a way you may not have experienced before.

And from that place, we start to look beneath the surface.

Not just at what's happening now, but at what's underneath it.

The patterns you keep repeating.

The beliefs you've carried for years.

The parts of yourself you learned to hide.

The things you've adapted to, normalised or simply thought were "just who you are".

I use my ability to see patterns, my intuition and the tools I've trained in to help you uncover what's really going on beneath the conscious story.

And then we work with what we find.

This isn't about fixing you.

There was never anything wrong with who you are.

It's about understanding what shaped who you became, so you can begin to reconnect with who you really are.

That's the work I offer.

And honestly, I think you have to experience it to fully understand it.

But if you've been doing the inner work for a while and still feel like there's something deeper that you haven't quite reached...

Maybe this is why you've found me.

If that's resonating, and you're ready to find out what's underneath your own story, you can book a free 15-minute call. Let's see if this is the right fit for you.

To the Ones Who've Always Felt DifferentYou've always known you don't quite fit, not because something's wrong with you,...
31/08/2026

To the Ones Who've Always Felt Different

You've always known you don't quite fit, not because something's wrong with you, but because you were built to notice, feel and care more than the world around you seems to.

You feel things more deeply. You notice what others miss. You've got a strong sense of injustice, the kind that won't let you look away when something's not right.

And you're tired. Tired of being the person everyone else needs you to be, just to fit in.

Here's what I've noticed. The women I meet who feel this way are almost always intelligent, capable, and genuinely good at what they do.

A teacher who loves teaching, but not the version she's forced into now.

A counsellor who knows people need to be heard, not rushed through a checklist of goals.

It's not that they can't do the job. It's that the systems around them were never built for the way they actually care.

Maybe that's you too. Maybe you're not the one who doesn't fit. Maybe you're the one who's here to help change the things that clearly aren't working.

What if the very thing you've always felt different for, the thing that's perhaps even been criticised, is exactly what you're here to use to make a difference?

That's why I'm building a community here at Empowerment Path, for the ones who've always felt different, and the ones who feel called to make that difference.

Because on our own, that difference can feel isolating. But together, it strengthens us. It strengthens our resolve, our belief in ourselves, our determination to make the difference we're here to make.

Wherever that difference is calling you, you don't have to find your way there alone. In the right community, you find belonging instead of feeling like the odd one out.

It becomes an anchor in the challenging times, and in the periods of transition. Leaving one job for another. Coming out of a relationship. Moving from the version of yourself you're leaving behind to the one that hasn't fully formed yet.

Community isn't live here yet, but it's on its way. If any of this speaks to you, follow along, you'll be the first to know when the doors open.

People have commented that I'm mad, "but in a good way."My brain has a very strange filing system.Ask me someone's name ...
26/08/2026

People have commented that I'm mad, "but in a good way."

My brain has a very strange filing system.

Ask me someone's name five minutes after they've told me and there's a fair chance it's gone.

Give me some mundane piece of information I'm not remotely interested in? Also gone.

But apparently song lyrics from 40 years ago are being carefully preserved for future use.

This morning I was trying to encourage my daughter to get out of bed and get moving when, completely out of nowhere, my brain supplied:

"Get up, get up, get out of your lazy bed…"

Matt Bianco. 1984.

I haven't consciously thought about that song in years.

But this happens to me all the time.

Someone will be talking to me and suddenly a line from a song starts playing in my head that fits exactly with what they're saying.

And sometimes a song just appears for no obvious reason at all.

Those are the ones I've learned to pay attention to.

Because sometimes I realise there's something in the words that I need to hear.

Is it my subconscious making connections faster than my conscious mind can? Intuition? Something else entirely? I honestly don't mind.

I just find it fascinating that my brain can't always remember why I walked into the kitchen, but somewhere in there it's maintaining a fully operational lyrics department dating back to the 1980s.

Does anyone else's brain do this?

P.S. The photo? An 80s night. Obviously. 😂

My daughter was quite tetchy with me last night, which was particularly annoying as I was driving her to her favourite i...
24/08/2026

My daughter was quite tetchy with me last night, which was particularly annoying as I was driving her to her favourite ice-cream shop at the time — Loop & Scoop.

She continued again this morning when I was trying to help her with something, and I could feel myself getting annoyed at her.

So I got up and left the room, pointing out that I wasn't willing to help her while she was speaking to me like that.

I went back to work and gave us both a bit of space.

Later, I went back in and said, "Shall we try again?"

I sat down and asked if she was okay. Was anything going on?

I gently pointed out that she'd been a bit tetchy with me last night and again this morning.

I empathised with her irritability and told her about my own experience at her age, when it could feel totally justified in the moment, but afterwards I'd think, "Ugh. That wasn't great, Alison."

I also gently pointed out that it's still not very nice being on the receiving end of it.

She smiled at the recognition, and we sorted out what we'd been trying to sort out in the first place.

And afterwards I felt really pleased with how I'd handled it.

Boundaries haven't always come easily to me. I've had to work on them over the years, and some relationships have definitely been harder than others.

Today felt like one of those little moments when you realise, actually, I do this differently now.

I've spent a lot of my life being very aware of how other people are feeling.

The difference now is that I don't believe understanding someone means I have to stand there and absorb whatever they're giving me.

I can wonder what's going on for you.

I can give you some grace.

And I can still say, "I'm not staying in this conversation while it feels like this."

Empathy and boundaries can exist in the same room.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for both of you is walk away, and come back when you're ready to try again.

Where do you find boundaries hardest to hold? I'd love to hear in the comments.

Why do we beat ourselves up so much?On Friday night, I scraped the side of someone's car. Oops.I was coming out of a rea...
19/08/2026

Why do we beat ourselves up so much?

On Friday night, I scraped the side of someone's car. Oops.

I was coming out of a really tight street, misjudged it and caught the car parked beside me.

Years ago, that would have ruined my night.

The voice in my head would have started immediately.

"You fu***ng idiot."
"I can't believe you've done that."

Instead, on Friday, I thought, s**t. Okay, better go find the owner.

I explained what had happened, gave them my details and took responsibility for it. And then I went to the festival and enjoyed my night.

I scraped the car. I didn't use it as evidence against myself.

I grew up with a lot of criticism, at home and at school. Eventually, you don't need other people to criticise you anymore. You learn to do it yourself.

I think it became a form of protection. If I got there first, criticised myself before anyone else could, maybe it would make me do better. Maybe it would stop anyone else getting the chance.

Understanding later in life that I'm neurodivergent was part of changing that. There were things I'd spent years criticising myself for without understanding why I found them difficult in the first place.

And as I've healed some of the shame and those earlier experiences, I've become much more compassionate towards myself.

The critical voice can still creep in.

"Oh God, Alison..."

But now I catch it and recognise it as an old pattern I no longer choose to play out. Sometimes I actually laugh.

There's a big difference between:
I made a mistake.
And:
There's something wrong with me.

Let yourself off the hook. You're human.

What does your inner critic say to you? I'd love to hear in the comments.

Hands up if you've ever played the victim.Or perhaps I should have said hands up if you haven't.I'm pretty sure we all h...
17/08/2026

Hands up if you've ever played the victim.

Or perhaps I should have said hands up if you haven't.

I'm pretty sure we all have at some point. I know I have.

I was a master at playing the victim and the martyr. They often went hand in hand, and had been so wonderfully modelled to me by my Mum. Anyone else?

Why does this always happen to me?

Why am I always the one who has to do everything?

If only they would change, then I'd be okay.

But here's the problem with that last one.

What if they never change?

What if they never apologise? Never understand your point of view? Never acknowledge what happened?

Does that mean you never get to be okay?

One of the biggest things I've learned through doing my own healing work is that I can't change another person.

And I can't change the past.

What I can change is how I choose to deal with it now.

Some things that happened to us were absolutely not our fault and were not okay.

But that doesn't mean we have to allow them to continue impacting us today.

When we're stuck in victim mode, we feel powerless. Unable to change anything. And that's not actually true.

I see this in my work with clients all the time. Someone comes to me because of something that's happening in their life right now — with a partner, a friend, at work.

One of the first things I'll ask is, "When was the first time you remember feeling this way?"

And often they'll suddenly say, "Oh my goodness, I've just remembered..." and we're back at something that happened with Mum or Dad, or at school, years ago.

That's the bit that actually needs healing, otherwise the same pattern just keeps playing out.

When we learn to get curious and ask —

Why have I reacted so strongly to this?

What is actually being triggered here?

For me, getting out of victim mode wasn't an overnight job.

It happened gradually as I healed the trauma of these early experiences and started to understand what had shaped me. I could see some of the roles I'd learned to play and the wounds I was still carrying.

That's where we start to get our power back.

Not by pretending the past didn't happen.

Not by saying someone else's behaviour didn't hurt.

And not by waiting for somebody else to change before we allow ourselves to move forward.

By becoming aware of what's ours, healing what we're ready to heal, and gradually choosing how we want to show up now.

Because playing the victim is a role.

It's not who we are.

Where do you notice yourself slipping into victim mode most? I'd love to hear in the comments.

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