Written by Melissa Coetzee, CEO and Co-founder of Algarve Wellness Specializing in exercise science and nutrition, I lead Algarve and Africa Wellness with a dedicated one-on-one approach. My eight years of sobriety fuel a deeply personal commitment to helping clients achieve sustainable health transformations through professional expertise and lived experience. Understanding a pattern is not the same as being free of it, and no one learns this more clearly than a high-functioning leader. By the time senior executives come to us at Algarve Wellness, most have already done years of good therapy. They can describe their patterns in detail. They know where the perfectionism comes from. They know why the imposter voice will not go quiet, no matter how much they have achieved. They can name the moments in a career that still make them react in ways they no longer want to. Still, the reaction happens. A colleague sends a routine email that lands as an attack. A board meeting produces a physical response that has nothing to do with the actual conversation in the room. A relationship at work echoes something older. They can see it happening, but they cannot stop it. (Melissa: This is a good place to add a specific sentence you have heard a client say. Even a rough one. One real line here changes the register of the whole article.) What EMDR is actually doing This is where trauma-informed therapy, and specifically EMDR, begins to matter. Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing was developed by Francine Shapiro in the late 1980s to treat post-traumatic stress. It is now one of the most extensively researched trauma therapies in existence. More than thirty randomised controlled trials support its use for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and it is recommended as a first-line treatment by the World Health Organization and the United States Department of Veterans Affairs. Most people picture EMDR as something used with combat veterans or survivors of acute crisis. That is where it began. That is not where the research has ended up. EMDR works with the parts of a memory that talk therapy cannot easily reach. It uses bilateral stimulation, usually guided eye movements, to help the brain reprocess experiences that were never fully integrated at the time they occurred. It works with the cognitive, emotional, physical, and neurobiological components of a memory at the same time, rather than working only with the story the person can consciously tell about it. Why insight alone does not resolve it For high-performing leaders, this distinction is the whole point. Trauma is not primarily stored in the conscious narrative. It is stored in implicit memory networks and in the autonomic nervous system, which is why a leader can understand exactly where a pattern comes from and still feel their heart race the next time it is triggered. The pattern was never a thinking problem, which is why so many years of talking about it produced insight but not release. The kind of trauma that shapes leaders There is also a wider question of what we are actually treating. Most people picture trauma as a single catastrophic event, such as combat, an accident, or an assault. Over the last two decades, the clinical literature has widened. It now recognises a second category, sometimes called developmental trauma or attachment trauma, that includes prolonged relational experiences that shape how a person functions across their lifespan. This includes chronic emotional neglect, inconsistent caregiving, ongoing criticism tied to performance, and exposure to a parent's mental illness, addiction, or conflict. In adulthood, it rarely presents as a diagnosis. It presents as a pattern. In leaders, that pattern often looks like the traits that got them here. Perfectionism that equates flawlessness with safety. An imposter voice that persists no matter what is achieved. Hyper-reactivity to feedback, where a colleague's comment lands as an attack rather than as information. Chronic overwork as the only condition in which the body feels safe. A quiet difficulty trusting the people they lead, even after years of shared work. These are not personality traits. In most cases, they are the adult expression of experiences the nervous system never had the chance to fully process. The high performance and the underlying pattern are, more often than not, built out of the same material. Why the setting matters Trauma work that goes to the root cannot be rushed. For clients with complex or developmental histories, the clinical guidance is clear. Deep reprocessing requires a period of stabilisation first. It requires enough safety in the environment for the nervous system to soften before it can begin to release what it has been holding. In outpatient therapy, that stabilisation phase often takes months. For a senior leader who cannot commit to a year of weekly sessions alongside a demanding role, it frequently does not happen at all. They start, the demands of the role intervene, and the deeper work never begins. This is one of the reasons we designed the Algarve Wellness programme around an intensive residential model. In an ultra-private clinical residency, both the stabilisation phase and the reprocessing phase can happen in weeks rather than months because the nervous system is not being asked to prepare for its next boardroom the following morning. EMDR delivered inside a trauma-informed residential programme, alongside somatic work and clinical support, produces a different quality of change than the same modality delivered in fifty-minute sessions between meetings. (Melissa: If you have seen a client describe what changed after this kind of intensive work, in their own words, one line here would strengthen the section considerably.) What changes on the other side Most of the leaders who come to us are not looking for insight. They already have it. What they are looking for is a way to stop reacting to a life they no longer live. Trauma-informed treatment does not erase the past. It changes what the nervous system does with it. The event remains part of the person's history. It stops being something the body is still bracing against several decades later, in rooms and relationships where the original threat is not present. At Algarve Wellness, we provide integrated, trauma-informed treatment for senior leaders in an ultra-private clinical residency in Portugal, one client at a time. Inquiries are handled confidentially and directly. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Melissa Coetzee Melissa Coetzee, CEO and Co-founder of Algarve Wellness Focusing on the intersection of longevity approaches and science-based wellness protocols, I provide a transformative experience for one individual at a time. My professional foundation in exercise science and nutrition is complemented by a deep personal understanding of resilience, having maintained eight years of sobriety. Supported by a multidisciplinary team of experts, I design bespoke programs that prioritize long-term vitality and sustainable health. My work is dedicated to those who require exclusive, high-touch care that addresses the whole person. Click through to my profile to see how our collective knowledge is distilled into personalized protocols for our clients.

Written by Sharon Banfield, HR Consultant & Strategic Coach Sharon Banfield, the founder of Ikonix Business Solutions, is an internationally accredited HR Consultant, Master Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) Practitioner, and coach. She partners with leaders to solve challenges and transform the way people work, with innovation and tailored coaching strategies to empower resilient growth. Many leaders have heard of cognitive overload, but few can define it clearly or recognise it in themselves early enough to see its impact. Are you functioning with clarity, or moving from one demand to the next with an overloaded mind, hoping things will settle down? Cognitive overload occurs when your brain is asked to do more than it can manage effectively. Working memory is pushed beyond its limits by volume, complexity, fragmentation, and constant switching between tasks. When this happens, it becomes harder to prioritise, plan, and filter what requires attention. This is not necessarily a reflection of intelligence, commitment, or leadership character. It is a capacity issue. It reflects a mismatch between cognitive demand and the capacity available. It is more than simply feeling busy or mentally tired. For some, it shows up as fatigue, brain fog, slower decisions, and difficulty processing information. For others, it’s more emotional. They notice a reactivity that feels out of character, or a growing sense that clarity is slipping away right when they need it most. Mistakes may increase, even as narrowed attention creates a misleading sense of clarity and confidence that the correct response is obvious. Constant connectivity, frequent shifts in focus, and high expectations of responsiveness leave little space for deep thinking or recovery. The greater risk is that overload becomes so normal that pushing through starts to look like leadership. "High cognitive load doesn’t arrive as a crisis you can name. It slips in quietly, disguised as just another all-consuming workday." Miriam’s story I feel numb. My shoulders and neck are tight before I have even opened my laptop. I start the day with coffee and just keep going through the motions. By the afternoon, I am exhausted. I’m somewhere between present and absent. I’m not falling apart. I’m still in every meeting, still making decisions. Yet something has shifted in how quickly my patience runs out, how little of the conversation I am truly absorbing, and how often I find myself reacting when I intend to think. I snap at my team in ways I never used to, then spend the next meeting quietly trying to repair it. I’ve stopped asking people how their weekend was. There isn’t room for the question. Another meeting. Another decision. Another urgent email. A crisis lands and I absorb it without a word. I leave the office drained, but the work follows me home. The phone rings past ten at night. I answer anyway. By dawn, I am already responding to messages before I am out of bed. My work keeps pulling me. More escalations of the same issues. Every time I delegate, something comes back asking for my input. I keep responding, deciding, and carrying. Because if I don’t, nothing moves. The work requires it. So I become the thing that it requires. "Somewhere along the line, I stopped asking whether this level of load was necessary. I asked only whether I could keep doing it." Slowly, what is extraordinary becomes ordinary. When I am carrying a heavy mental load, I don’t realise I am. Even after a close friend raised concerns about the signs I was showing, I didn’t wake up to what was happening. At home, my family would ask if I was in the room with them. I’d insist I was, while my mind was still preparing for tomorrow’s meeting. I missed small moments, and then bigger ones. Months later, sitting in a coaching session, it finally lands. I’ve been functioning with cognitive overload for years. This isn’t something we name in the office. Why are we not talking about this? The leader overrides The changes Miriam experienced aren’t unique to cognitive overload, but their appearance alongside sustained mental demand is a signal to pay attention. They often show up alongside chronic stress, fatigue, or burnout, and the symptoms can overlap. In many leaders, signs of excessive cognitive load can appear long before they are recognised. Recognition is delayed partly because the same capability that helps leaders continue performing can also conceal how much their thinking has narrowed. Decisions may become faster and more reactive, or take longer because competing considerations are harder to hold. A gap opens between your current thinking and the quality of thinking you know you are capable of. The pattern is magnified where change is constant, resources are constrained, and leaders are expected to deliver more with less. From the outside, leaders can still appear highly capable. They continue making countless decisions, attending meetings, and solving immediate problems. That’s evidence of capability. Whether that capability remains accessible under sustained demand is a question of capacity. The cost emerges in the gap between the two. A leader can continue performing while the strain beneath the performance grows. The more successfully they absorb unsustainable demand, the easier the underlying problem is to miss. When pushing through has worked before, leaders may continue overriding signs of strain and working harder, even when it is no longer effective. Slowing down can feel like weakness or failure. It leaves some wanting to step back, but they feel it isn’t even a possibility. As cognitive capacity reduces, leaders absorb less from conversations, their patience runs out faster, and their ability to distinguish genuine urgency from the background pressure of constant demands becomes more difficult. "Recognising the gap between what feels possible in the moment and what is actually sustainable gives a leader room to pause, choose, and respond with intention." Cognitive overload becomes normal When competing priorities, repeated interruptions, and the work of managing details and people create a sustained mental load, it can start to feel like a normal part of the job. "Work design can create or intensify the pressure, while organisational culture shapes how that pressure is interpreted." Over time, shared assumptions start to equate more work with commitment. Busyness signals importance, constant availability signals reliability, and pushing through strain is praised as resilience. These beliefs become the standards people measure themselves against. When overload is modelled, rewarded, or admired, especially by leaders, people can learn that this is what success looks like. They may come to believe they are expected to stay accessible, juggle competing priorities, and perform regardless of the cognitive cost. Modern technology can further reinforce these pressures and intensify cognitive demand. AI may reduce unnecessary effort, but it also accelerates information flows, multiplies outputs to review, and raises expectations of faster responses. Ongoing research from UC Berkeley Haas suggests that without intentional work practices, AI can expand the range of tasks people take on, increase multitasking, and blur the boundaries between work and life outside work. When greater speed, output, and availability become the working norm, the additional cognitive demand can quickly be mistaken for an inevitable part of modern work. Why protecting capacity is a strategic business imperative The effects of cognitive overload rarely stay contained to the individual leader. Teams experience leadership through everyday signals. These are transmitted through the clarity of priorities, the consistency of decisions, the quality of attention they receive, and the emotional tone surrounding difficult conversations. Under overload, those signals can become blurred, inconsistent, and hard to trust. Teams may not simply stop reading them. They may begin to misread them. Over time, the team may begin to adapt by holding back. They hesitate to act without certainty and withhold concerns when the leader appears stretched or unavailable. This may erode the psychological safety needed for open feedback and rapid problem solving. Individual overload can gradually reshape how the team operates. As the leader carries too much, the team becomes more dependent. As the team becomes more dependent, even more work returns to the leader. Decisions bottleneck, growth slows, and both the leader and the team have less mental room to respond well to unexpected challenges. Cognitive overload can alter the quality of leadership before the leader fully recognises what has changed. It influences which information receives attention, which conversations take place, which decisions are deferred, and how much capability the team is able to develop around them. Protecting mental capacity is not a wellbeing addition. It includes removing, redistributing, and negotiating demand, not merely managing attention more efficiently. This is a strategic requirement to protect judgement, preserve influence, maintain trust, and sustain long-term team performance. The leadership shift Personal resilience alone cannot protect cognitive capacity. Leaders also need to redesign the work that creates unnecessary demand, use leadership capacity deliberately, and build recovery into the way work is done. Together, these three shifts move the response from endurance to sustainable performance. Redesigning the work Capacity is shaped by the structures around a leader. This includes workload distribution, priorities, boundaries, decision pathways, and the support and capability within the team. Are you performing well because the work is designed effectively, or because you are absorbing the consequences of poor design? If you cope and the organisation interprets that as evidence that nothing needs to change, the conditions remain unchanged. Over time, more demand may accumulate around you, reinforcing the cycle. The question needs to shift from, “How can I increase my capacity to carry all of this?” to “Why does so much of this need to be carried by me?” and “What can be reduced, removed, or redistributed?” The first question asks how you can carry more. The next two ask why the load exists in its current form. That shift moves you from endurance to design and opens up different possibilities. That same shift also changes how overload is interpreted. When leaders repeatedly push through high cognitive load, rather than asking only, “Is it ability, motivation, or fit?”, consider asking, “In what ways might our environment be contributing to this?” and “What is our system expecting, rewarding, and making necessary?” It’s important to understand what’s driving it. Where systems can’t be changed immediately or sit beyond a leader’s direct control, leaders aren’t powerless within them. By making trade-offs visible, batching related tasks, and setting clear priorities, leaders can reduce the number of demands competing for attention at once and help preserve the judgement those demands require. In genuinely constrained periods, the aim may be to contain the intensity, limit how long peaks are sustained, and prevent temporary overload from becoming permanent. The goal is not to eliminate mentally demanding work. It is to prevent temporary intensity and avoidable friction from becoming the default way of working. Using leadership capacity deliberately A leader’s time, attention, and mental resources are finite. Better designed work protects those resources by clarifying what requires the leader’s judgement, what can be simplified or distributed, and where others need greater authority or capability to act. Sequencing work differently can mean protecting your highest capacity periods for the work that requires your best thinking. A useful starting point is to ask: Where does work still have to pass through you before it can move? Which decisions truly require your judgement? Which recurring escalations point to unclear authority or capability? Your answers point to what needs to change. System design matters, but so do the patterns leaders bring to it, including what you retain, rescue, avoid delegating, or continue accepting without challenge. This is not about withdrawing from responsibility. It is about using leadership capacity more deliberately. Strategic recovery Cognitive capacity is also shaped by personal foundations such as recovery and health. Even well-designed work contains periods of real intensity. Sustainable capacity therefore also depends on how recovery is built into the working day. "Recovery is not just what happens after the work is done. It is part of how your work is intentionally designed." What is shaping your capacity right now? Sleep, nutrition, physical health, and meaningful recovery all influence how much mental capacity is available. The recovery paradox is that recovery can temporarily restore capacity, while unchanged work conditions continue to deplete it. Creating space for strategic recovery means more than blocking out time for rest. It can include adding buffers between meetings, reducing back-to-back sessions, and designing training or workshops around what people can realistically absorb. It means allowing enough time for thinking, transition, and reset. Where could recovery be designed into your day before cognitive strain begins shaping the quality of your thinking? Strategic recovery protects clarity, quality thinking, and judgement. Reconsidering priorities and addressing demands that have outgrown what any one person can absorb makes sustainable performance more possible. The answer is less about carrying more and more about leading differently. Before you keep pushing through Sustainable cognitive capacity is not achieved by pushing harder. It is supported by better work design, shared responsibility, and the personal foundations of health and recovery. The question is not only what continuing this way is costing you. It is also how the pattern is shaping your decisions, your relationships, and the way others learn to work around you. Your work may be relentless, but leadership is not defined by how much you can absorb. It is reflected in what you are willing to clarify, release, and redesign. One source of that demand, if reduced, would change more than the others. You already know which one. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Sharon Banfield Sharon Banfield, HR Consultant & Strategic Coach Sharon Banfield, the founder of Ikonix Business Solutions, is an internationally accredited HR Consultant, Master Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) Practitioner, and coach. Drawing on over a decade as a business owner, her advisory work spans talent, workforce technology, business, and leadership development. She partners with leaders to solve complex challenges and transform the way people work, using innovation and tailored coaching strategies to empower resilient growth. Through her strategic coaching, Sharon helps founders and leaders move beyond improvising on the fly or reactive firefighting to a greater state of calm, clarity, and confidence, achieving results once considered out of reach.

Written by Haifa Hamdi, Scientist, Nutritionist, and Author Dr. Haifa Hamdi is a research scientist, holistic nutritionist, and author whose work focuses on cancer, autoimmune diseases, and digestive health. She is passionate about helping families embrace healthier lifestyles and inspiring a world where health is joyful and empowering. Parents often notice subtle changes in their children long before those changes can be clearly explained. The Observation Minute™ offers a simple way to protect one minute of undistracted attention, helping families become more familiar with a child’s everyday rhythm and more aware when something begins to shift. The questions I answered with moments The appointment lasted less than twenty minutes. Like many specialist visits, it moved quickly through questions, answers, a physical examination, laboratory results, and decisions. Then the physician looked up and asked a simple question. "When did you first notice something was different?" I did not answer with a diagnosis. I answered with moments. He had stopped finishing breakfast. He seemed more tired after soccer. He had begun avoiding certain foods. He was still playing, laughing, and trying to be himself, but something in his usual rhythm no longer felt quite the same. Not everyone around us saw it the same way. As I began noticing these things, including the avoided foods and the mornings when he could not finish breakfast, and adjusting our routines around them, some of the people closest to me saw something different: a mother worrying too much, overdoing it, or raising an anxious child by being anxious herself. The criticism was not always gentle, and it did not always come from where I expected it. I do not say this to cast blame. Fear can make people defensive in ways they do not intend, and disbelief sometimes wears the face of concern. But I would be dishonest if I said it did not hurt. Facing denial and criticism instead of support from people you expect to stand beside you is its own particular kind of pain. I kept the observations anyway, not because I was certain, but because uncertainty was never a reason to stop paying attention. None of those observations diagnosed anything. Individually, they could have belonged to an ordinary week in the life of almost any child. Together, however, they gave the physician something no blood test, imaging study, or brief examination could provide. They gave her a timeline. What I offered was not medical knowledge. It was continuity. Sitting there, I realized something I had never fully understood during my years in science: families see the same child across hundreds of ordinary mornings in a way no brief medical appointment can capture. A physician may see a child several times a year. A family sees how the child enters the kitchen, whether breakfast is eaten eagerly or moved around the plate, and whether the usual joke is told with the usual spark. A laboratory can measure important biological changes. A physician can interpret symptoms and determine what deserves further investigation. But the family often carries the beginning of the story, including the quiet period before a change has a medical name. That moment stayed with me because it was not really about inflammatory bowel disease, symptoms, or diagnosis. It was about something that came before all of them: attention. A scientific proposal for families Thoughtful attention may be one of the earliest preventive tools families already possess. I do not say that lightly. I am an immunology scientist. My professional work has included inflammation, immune biology, and advanced cell and gene therapy approaches developed for cancer. My scientific training taught me to respect evidence, validated testing, and the limits of what observation alone can establish. I believe strongly in medical research, medication, biologic therapies, appropriate screening, and timely clinical care. Nothing in this article replaces any of them. Yet prevention does not begin only when a family enters a physician's office. It may begin earlier, in the ordinary moment when someone first recognizes that a child's usual pattern has changed. Usually, that person is a parent or primary caregiver. Whether a change is recognized does not depend only on how deeply your child is loved. Parents can love their children completely and still overlook something unfolding directly in front of them. Attention is limited, and in modern life, it has become a scarce resource. What has actually changed Children rarely stand in the middle of a room and announce that something inside their body has been changing for three weeks. More often, they continue trying to be children while their bodies quietly adapt around whatever they are feeling. They attend school, go to practice, and say they are fine. Your child may not recognize any of this happening in real time. A gradually smaller appetite may simply look like a little more food left on the plate each morning. Fading energy may look like running a little less than before, without anyone deciding to slow down. Discomfort around eating rarely announces itself. Instead, it may show up as negotiation over breakfast, meals that take longer to finish, or a narrowing list of foods that feel safe. When something feels emotionally difficult, the words may not come at all. What surfaces instead may be irritability, silence, disturbed sleep, school avoidance, loss of interest, or a physical complaint that keeps recurring. These shifts are easy to miss because they rarely arrive all at once. They may develop slowly enough for the entire family to adjust around them. A parent begins carrying the child's backpack because the child seems tired. Dinner portions become smaller because "that is all they eat now." Bedtime comes earlier. Each adjustment is made with love. Days later, or sometimes weeks later, the family may suddenly realize that daily life has quietly reorganized itself around a change no one consciously named. It was not necessarily invisible. It was gradual. Parents today are multitasking, checking phones, rushing between obligations, and processing hundreds of small demands every day. None of this represents a failure of parenting. It is the ordinary condition of raising children in this era. The body has not stopped communicating. Modern life has simply become loud enough that many of us struggle to hear it. Life noise During my years in research, I learned that meaningful observations rarely happen by accident. Before interpreting data, scientists reduce unnecessary noise, control variables where possible, and slow down long enough to distinguish a meaningful signal from the distractions surrounding it. I have come to believe that families can borrow this same principle, not to become scientists, but to become more attentive observers of the people they love. Families face their own kind of noise. Not laboratory noise, but life noise: notifications, schedules, screens, fatigue, and constant low-grade urgency. A child begins asking a question while the parent answers an email. A quiet expression disappears before anyone looks up long enough to see it. None of these distractions is harmful in isolation. Together, however, they compete for one of the most valuable resources a parent possesses when it comes to a child's well-being: uninterrupted attention. Most parents ask before they see Here is something I have noticed in my own home and in conversations with many other parents: most parents ask before they see. "Are you okay?" is often the first move rather than the last. Your child may answer, "I'm fine," not necessarily because everything feels normal, but because "I'm fine" is often the simplest response to a broad question. The conversation may end before your child has had the opportunity, confidence, or vocabulary to describe anything more specific. Observation made before a question is asked may capture what a broad, reassuring question misses. Your child walked more slowly into the room. The usual breakfast remained untouched. Their eyes looked tired despite a full night of sleep. Their voice sounded quieter. A hand rested briefly over the stomach before quickly moving away. A parent may not consciously register such a moment while packing lunches and replying to a message. Three days later, the parent may suddenly think, "Wait. This has happened every morning this week." That does not mean the parent failed. It means the observations had not yet received enough protected attention to become a recognizable pattern. Science begins in a similar way. Before scientists interpret data, they collect it carefully and try not to let an early assumption determine what they are willing to see. Parents can borrow that sequence, not with laboratory instruments, but with attention: observe first, ask second, and interpret last. Scientists spend years learning how to recognize meaningful patterns hidden within large amounts of information. Parents do something equally remarkable: they learn one child. They learn the ordinary morning voice, the familiar appetite, and the expression that belongs to a genuinely good day. They may notice the smile that is just a little quieter, the game abandoned early, or the joke that was not told. Different observations require the same fundamental human skill: paying close attention. The Observation Minute™ The practice I developed around this idea begins with one uninterrupted minute. One minute is the training unit. It is a form of micro presence, a small, protected moment in which a parent becomes fully available to the child in front of them. We may not always be able to offer uninterrupted hours. Most days, many families cannot even promise an uninterrupted meal. But many of us can begin with one completely undistracted minute. That minute is small enough to feel realistic, yet long enough to interrupt the automatic habits that increasingly shape family life, such as reaching for a phone, checking a notification, or filling every quiet pause with another task. The practice is not intended to remain limited to one moment a day. A family may begin with one Observation Minute™ and gradually introduce others during transitions that already exist, such as breakfast, the return from school, dinner, or bedtime. Begin with one and build toward three. When life permits, create as many as five brief moments of protected attention across the day. This is not five minutes of staring silently at your child. It is not five examinations, health checks, or interrogations. It is five brief opportunities to become available. The five-second transition Before beginning the Observation Minute™, I invite parents to create a smaller transition first. For five seconds, put the phone down, silence unnecessary notifications, and focus completely on your child in front of you. These five seconds are not a relaxation treatment or medical intervention. They are simply a deliberate hinge between the pace of ordinary life and one minute of intentional presence. In research, the quality of an observation depends not only on what we observe, but also on the amount of distraction surrounding us while we collect information. Families can benefit from the same principle. Before we observe, we reduce the noise. During the minute itself, observe with more than your eyes. Listen to the tone of your child's voice before focusing exclusively on the words. Notice posture, movement, facial expression, appetite, and energy. If your child comes to you for a hug, notice whether they appear relaxed or tense. Allow eye contact when it arises naturally, without demanding or forcing it. Pay attention to your child's overall rhythm rather than searching for one particular symptom. During the minute, resist the impulse to scroll, multitask, or mentally plan what comes next. For one uninterrupted minute, allow your child to become the most important source of information in your environment. This is not hypervigilance, constant monitoring, or a search for disease. It is complete attention. When distractions grow quieter, your child often becomes easier to hear. What becomes visible is not always something concerning. Sometimes we notice joy, new confidence, or a lighter laugh. Observation is not about searching for illness. It is about becoming familiar with health. What the minute can and cannot do The Observation Minute™ has not been studied as a clinical intervention, and I would never present my family's experience as proof that this practice prevents disease or leads to earlier diagnosis. It is not a screening test, and it cannot tell a parent what a particular change means. Its purpose is more modest. It creates a protected moment in which a parent can become familiar with a child's ordinary rhythm. When I began protecting that minute, I did not suddenly discover a dramatic symptom. I simply became more conscious of details that might previously have disappeared inside a busy day: a pause before eating, a quieter voice, or a change in energy. Any one of those moments might mean very little. Most changes in childhood have simple and temporary explanations. The value of observation lies not in assigning meaning too quickly, but in recognizing when something repeats, persists, or begins affecting several parts of daily life. What changed was not necessarily my child. What changed was the quality of my attention. At first, the practice felt deliberate. I had to remind myself to put down the phone and resist the urge to ask a broad question immediately. Gradually, however, I began looking up more naturally during other moments of the day. The minute became a training ground for presence. I noticed more during meals, in the car, and before bedtime, not because I had become anxious or constantly watchful, but because I was becoming more familiar with what ordinary looked like. That distinction is important. A pathologist studies normal tissue in order to recognize abnormal changes. An immunologist must understand regulated immune function before interpreting inflammation. Families possess a different kind of baseline knowledge. They learn one child across hundreds of ordinary mornings, meals, and conversations. The Observation Minute™ simply gives that knowledge a little more protected space. When a meaningful change persists, the next step may be to document it, adjust an ordinary routine, ask the child a more specific question, or bring the observation to a qualified healthcare professional. The practice does not provide the answer. Instead, it helps a family recognize when a better question may need to be asked. In that sense, intuition is not an answer. It is the recognition that something may deserve further attention. What parents may not notice immediately Many changes do not arrive in one dramatic moment. Your child may eat less on Monday, move more slowly on Tuesday, remain unusually quiet on Wednesday, and ask to skip an activity on Thursday. By Friday, a parent may suddenly sense that something has felt different throughout the week without being able to identify precisely when it began. This delay does not occur because the parent is inattentive or uncaring. Each moment arrives with its own reasonable and plausible explanation. What may be missed is not the individual event, but the relationship between events. Several Observation Minutes across the day create more opportunities to recognize those connections. The child who barely touched breakfast also left the afternoon snack unopened. The child who seemed tired after school withdrew from a favorite evening activity. None of those observations establishes a diagnosis. They provide continuity, and continuity can help a family recognize when something deserves closer attention. A child's physical and emotional experiences may also overlap, which is another reason observation should lead to curiosity and appropriate professional support rather than immediate conclusions. From observation to connection Children do not reveal themselves on command. A child who says little at breakfast may speak freely in the car. A child who answers, "I'm fine," after school may share something important while preparing for bed. Children may communicate through appetite, posture, silence, or the ways they seek or avoid closeness. Creating several screen-free pauses throughout the day increases the number of moments in which connection has room to develop naturally. Sometimes observation will lead to a question. Sometimes it will lead to a conversation. Sometimes it will lead only to sitting quietly together. All three have value. The objective is not to ask your child five careful questions each day. It is to become available five times a day. That distinction matters. Instead of immediately asking, "Are you okay?" a parent might eventually say, "You seem quieter than you did this morning. How is your body feeling?" Or simply, "I'm here. You do not have to explain everything immediately." The Observation Minute™ begins with seeing, but its deeper purpose is relationship. Connection is not simply a trait some parents are born with and others are not. Like attention, it can be practiced. A parent who finds warmth or attunement difficult is not failing at something instinctive. They may simply be building a skill many of us were never explicitly taught, one repeated minute at a time. Building the practice gradually Families do not need to begin with five daily minutes. Begin with one, using the easiest transition, perhaps breakfast or bedtime. Add a second when your child returns from school. Build toward three across the morning, afternoon, and evening. Reach five when life allows, using transitions that already exist rather than creating another demanding task. Some days, a family may manage only one minute. On other days, attentive connection may happen naturally many times. The number is not a measure of parental devotion. Five is simply an aspiration, a way to protect several points of reconnection across a distracted day. The more meaningful questions are quieter and more honest. Are you becoming a little less likely to reach immediately for a screen? Are you becoming a little more familiar with your child's ordinary rhythm? Are you becoming a little better prepared to recognize when that rhythm changes? Keeping a simple record The Observation Minute™ does not require a diary. For most families, a line or two is enough. Some parents may choose to make a brief note daily. Others may find that a few notes once or twice a week are enough to reveal a recurring pattern. The format matters less than consistency. A note in a calendar, a dated email sent to yourself, or a single line in a notebook kept somewhere ordinary, such as the kitchen counter or a bedside drawer, can all work. Whatever a parent will actually return to is the right format. An elaborate system that nobody maintains records nothing at all. Write only what you noticed, not yet what you think it means. Two words may be enough: "Quieter today." "Wanted to stay home." "Ate well." Over time, these short notes can do something memory alone may not. A single Wednesday rarely tells a parent much, but a few Wednesdays in a row sometimes do. One idea, followed three ways I did not set out to build a philosophy. It has developed gradually through my scientific work, my experience as a mother, and every conversation I have had since my child's diagnosis. The body leaves clues long before medicine has a name for what it is seeing. Families extend medicine by contributing the continuity that a brief appointment cannot capture. Underneath both ideas sits a third: attention is a trainable observational skill. It is not a diagnostic power or parental intuition elevated above evidence. It is the human capacity for observation and pattern recognition, the same fundamental discipline scientists and clinicians deliberately practice, made accessible to families through small, repeated moments of presence. Families and medicine are not competitors. The physician brings clinical training, examination, and the responsibility to interpret. The scientist develops knowledge, diagnostics, and therapies. The family brings the lived timeline. Each sees something the others cannot see alone. When observation begins to flow both ways One unexpected discovery came later. As I became more intentional about observing my child, I realized that observation could become a shared family habit rather than a one-way exercise. Children are remarkable observers, too. They notice our stress, fatigue, expressions, and routines long before we think they do. That realization eventually led me to develop what I call the Reverse Observation Minute, an idea I will explore separately because attention becomes even more meaningful when it flows gently in both directions. Why this matters beyond one diagnosis This idea became clear to me through pediatric inflammatory bowel disease (IBD), but it is not limited to IBD. A quiet minute may help a parent notice a change in appetite, energy, sleep, mood, or development. Most changes will not indicate chronic illness. Some may reflect a temporary infection, a demanding school week, stress, or a problem the child has not yet been able to explain. The Observation Minute™ does not identify the cause. It creates enough stillness for a change to enter awareness. That is the modest claim underneath this article. Attention does not diagnose disease. Intuition does not replace testing. But repeated attention may help a family recognize when something has changed enough to deserve documentation, support, or professional investigation. A note on what comes next The Observation Minute™ is one of the practices at the center of a book I am writing, The Body Leaves Clues, where I explore this philosophy more deeply, not as a replacement for medicine, but as its quiet and necessary partner. For now, begin with one transition. When your child enters the kitchen, returns from school, climbs into the car, or sits beside you before bed, resist the automatic pull of the screen. Put the phone down, look up, and allow one minute to belong fully to the child in front of you. When life permits, try it again during another transition, not as an examination or search for symptoms, but as an opportunity to see, listen, and learn the ordinary rhythm of one child. At first, the practice may feel deliberate. Later, you may notice that you are looking up more naturally. You may notice the expression before the answer, the energy before the complaint, and the silence before the explanation. The child before the screen. The body has never stopped speaking. Sometimes it whispers. The Observation Minute™ is an invitation to create enough quiet, one small moment at a time, to hear it. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Haifa Hamdi Haifa Hamdi, Scientist, Nutritionist, and Author Dr. Haifa Hamdi is a research scientist, holistic nutritionist, and author dedicated to advancing health and wellness. After earning her Ph.D. in Immunology, she built an international career across Europe and North America, contributing to the development of cell therapy protocols to treat cancer and autoimmune diseases in patients. Her research includes more than 15 peer-reviewed scientific publications, with expertise in lung cancer therapies, immune tolerance, and innovative approaches to inflammatory and infectious diseases. She is also collaborating on new strategies for managing and treating inflammatory bowel disease (IBD). Her mission: to inspire a world where health is seen not as a burden, but as a joyful and empowering journey.

Written by Godelieve van der Leij, Experience Expert in Recovery Godelieve van der Leij has extensive lived experience in international business and recovery. Through her website and blog, both named The Surf of Life, she aims to support others throughout their recovery journeys and bridge the gap between business and mental health care. She is also actively involved in the Recovery Movement in the Netherlands. The idea that life is not linear, but rather like a set of waves, is ancient. The Roman Stoics and Taoism already gave us a hint, but the idea really took off when modern-day writers like Jon Kabat-Zinn and Danielle LaPorte started to spread the word about learning how to surf the waves of life. I picked up the philosophy in 2014 as a young professional who had just been diagnosed with a chronic mental illness, and it really helped me during my recovery process. I gained a deep realization that in life, as in surfing, there are different stages. I remembered from my time on a real surfboard that one moment you are riding that wave, the next you wipe out, then comes the liminal phase where you wait for the next set to roll in, and finally, there you go, back up on your feet for the next build-up. Easier said than done, I can tell you. This is not another sad story Now, I could tell you a story about medication, therapy, loss, grief, overestimation by health care professionals, apparent self-reliance, social declassification, the double culture shock, constantly having to adjust my perspective about the future, and what life is like in long-term mental health care, but I will not. Not today. Instead, I would like to share a few lessons learned from my own recovery process and the ‘Recovery Movement’ as a whole. What is the recovery movement? The recovery movement sprang from psychiatry and mental health care. Its origins lie in the US during the second half of the twentieth century. This is when people like Howard Geld, also known as Howie the Harp, started to advocate for more humane treatment of former mental health care patients. Peer work was born, with people who had ‘lived experience’ supporting others during their recovery from life-altering experiences. About two decades ago, the initiative came to Europe. Schools like ‘Howie the Harp’ opened in the Netherlands to educate people to become peer workers. Today, there are various Recovery Colleges across the country that organize recovery groups and other activities. Recovery Colleges from elsewhere in Europe also visit Dutch Recovery Colleges to seek out best practices. I learned about the recovery movement when I obtained a certificate from Howie the Harp and did peer work at the local Recovery College. Today, peer work, or Experience Expertise, has become a real profession integrated into mental health care practice. The myth of manufacturability Growing up as a young professional in corporate structures, winning was a lifestyle for me. Until I was thirty, all I knew was winning. Then I lost my health. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. For over a decade, I constantly had to reinvent myself within my newfound reality. Life was no longer an upward linear line, but more like a set of waves. Sometimes things went okay for a while. Other years, I had to rebuild my life from scratch. New house, new town, new people, basically a new life. I always thought life could be made, but a coach once told me, ‘life is given’. I believe she was right. Let me be your guide I have extensive lived experience in both the corporate world and the world of long-term mental health care, and I believe these worlds can learn a lot from one another through the Recovery Movement. Right now, it is mainly part of mental health care. However, since I speak the language of both business and mental health care, I know what success is, but I also know about struggle, and I aim to bridge the gap between the two. I am different from many Experience Experts who might have grown up in mental health care or who do not have a background in business on a global level. Therefore, I would like to be a guide for young professionals, mental health care patients, business managers, health care professionals, and everyone else who is interested in lifting recovery out of mental health care and applying it to other areas of life. Four takeaways from recovery Obviously, I learned many lessons over the course of a decade during my recovery process. I know firsthand that getting sick does not just mean losing your health, but can also mean losing your job, home, and social status. However, for the purpose of this article, I would like to emphasize the four main lessons I learned from recovery. I will elaborate on them below. 1. Making a career vs. Living on benefits I think the biggest difference, but at the same time a parallel, between making a career and living on benefits once mentally ill is how you spend your time. Making a career is a lifestyle and very time-consuming. Days and weeks are packed with work, appointments, and people. Time is carefully scheduled to make everything ‘fit’. In return, you receive a nice salary, so you can vacation in faraway places and go out for fancy dinners with family and friends. At the other end of the spectrum sits living on benefits. Since there is no job obligation, time can be spent in many ways, such as working on your recovery by going to the Recovery College, meeting with your therapist, talking to peers, or doing volunteer work. Money is scarce, so you have to be very creative in finding free or cheaper activities and people with a similar lifestyle. The lessons I learned were, first, that the discipline of working long hours and following a tight schedule, developed through working in corporate structures, came in very useful when living on welfare. This muscle memory helped me stay active and disciplined during the week. On the other hand, I truly learned to be creative with a lot of time on my hands but hardly any money to spend. 2. Always on vs. Early retirement In my fast-paced working life, I was ‘always on’, always available for either work or my social network, as I remember it. During the first few years of my recovery, however, life felt like ‘early retirement’. That is what some fellow clients called it, at least. I think what young professionals today can learn from the Recovery Movement and mental health care as a whole is to slow down every once in a while. On the other hand, the businesslike ‘can do’ spirit is what is often missing among clients. People in long-term health care tend to lean back and get used to their free time and slow days, while there is so much potential when it comes to contributing to society once we take a closer look at their competencies and life experience. Of course, this should take into account their daily energy levels and general interests. 3. Not your job vs. Not your diagnosis When I lived the corporate lifestyle and was successful in the eyes of society, I identified myself with my job. But when I had to leave my career behind, existential questions started to surface. Who was I if I was not my job? Following that, as a patient, especially when I really started to work on my recovery, I became consumed with my mental illness. But soon I learned that you are not your diagnosis. It is something you have, not something you are. On another note, my business experience taught me about success and the pursuit of opportunities. This really helped during my recovery process when I was looking for help and volunteer work. Recovery, meanwhile, taught me a lot about self-reflection and about taking the time every once in a while to process the experiences of life. 4. Prevention vs. Recovery Finally, with so many people recovering from burnout, depression, or other causes, I believe the focus should shift from recovery to the prevention of mental illness. We can come up with initiatives like the recovery movement, but what needs to be done, in my opinion, is to create healthy environments at work and in society as a whole. This way, people do not get sick in the first place, at least not in such great numbers. Did you know that worldwide, 1 billion people live with a mental illness, and that many of them have a good job and are well educated? It makes you wonder, right? But that is a different discussion. The Surf of Life in practice The Surf of Life is a recovery story turned into a theory that compares the different stages of both recovery and life: surfing, wipeout, the liminal phase, and buildup. It is not just meant for people who seek support during their recovery process, but also for business leaders who develop policies on retention and reintegration, and for health care professionals looking for other ways to activate their clients. If you want to read more about my recovery and are looking to collaborate, or have any other inquiries, please visit the contact page on the website or my profile page. Remember, life is like a set of waves. Sometimes you’re up, and sometimes you’re down. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Godelieve van der Leij Godelieve van der Leij, Experience Expert in Recovery Godelieve van der Leij is a former IBM and Nike employee. After being diagnosed with a mental illness in 2013, she began working on her own recovery and became involved with the Recovery Movement. This experience inspired her to share the idea behind The Surf of Life, which compares life to a series of waves with its inevitable ups and downs. She is the founder, content manager, and author of the website and blog of the same name, which aims to “give people faith in their abilities to overcome.”

Written by Jannelle Jemmott, Founder, Own Your Life Jannelle Jemmott is the founder of Own Your Life, an entrepreneur, agency owner, and advocate for women's wealth and leadership. After surviving three near-death experiences, she now helps women build financial confidence, generational wealth, and lives rooted in purpose, ownership, and legacy. Most people believe generational wealth begins when someone becomes wealthy. It doesn't. Generational wealth begins much earlier. It begins with a decision. A decision to stop surviving and start building. A decision to think beyond today. A decision to create a future that extends beyond your own lifetime. Unfortunately, many families spend generations repeating the same financial patterns. They work hard. They pay bills. They raise children. They do their best. Yet when one generation passes, the next generation often starts over from scratch. No assets. No plan. No foundation. No roadmap. The cycle continues. Generational wealth is not created by accident. It is created by intention. What is generational wealth? When most people hear the phrase "generational wealth," they immediately think of millions of dollars. Large estates. Luxury properties. Trust funds. Family businesses. While those can certainly be examples of generational wealth, the concept itself is much broader, as generational wealth is anything of value that can be passed from one generation to the next, including financial assets, businesses, investments, real estate, life insurance benefits, education, values, financial knowledge, and opportunities. At its core, generational wealth is about creating a foundation that allows future generations to begin further ahead than the generation before them. The difference between income and legacy Many people spend their entire lives focused on earning income. Income is important. Income provides stability. Income supports families. Income creates opportunities. But income alone rarely creates legacy. Legacy is built through ownership. Ownership of assets. Ownership of businesses. Ownership of investments. Ownership of opportunities that can continue serving your family long after you are gone. The goal is not simply to earn money. The goal is to transform income into something that lasts. Why most families never build generational wealth The challenge is not usually a lack of effort. Most families work incredibly hard. The challenge is that few people are ever taught how wealth is actually built. Schools rarely teach it. Many households never discuss it. As a result, people often spend decades earning without building. Three common obstacles stand in the way: Living only for today: When every financial decision is focused solely on the present, little remains available to build the future. Lack of financial education: Many people are never taught the principles of ownership, investing, protection, or long-term planning. No clear family vision: Families often have goals for the next month or next year, but very few have a vision for the next generation. Without a vision, wealth rarely survives. The first generation must decide Every family has someone who decides to change the trajectory. Someone who chooses to become the bridge. Someone who says, "It stops with me." For some families, that person starts a business. For others, it is purchasing a first home. For others, it is investing consistently. For others, it is creating financial protection where none previously existed. The specific strategy matters less than the decision itself. Because once the decision is made, different actions begin to follow. Different habits emerge. Different conversations happen. Different outcomes become possible. Building more than money One of the biggest misconceptions about generational wealth is that it is only about money. Money matters. But money alone is not enough. Families that successfully create lasting wealth often pass down something even more valuable: beliefs, discipline, work ethic, financial literacy, character, responsibility, and vision. Without those qualities, wealth can disappear quickly. With them, future generations can continue building upon the foundation that was created. Five decisions that create generational wealth Decide to become financially literate: The more you understand money, the better decisions you can make with it. Decide to live below your means: Wealth is often built through discipline, not display. Decide to own assets: Ownership creates opportunities that income alone cannot. Decide to protect what you build: Building wealth matters. Protecting it matters just as much. Decide to think beyond yourself: Every financial decision becomes more meaningful when viewed through the lens of future generations. The greatest gift you can leave Many people believe the greatest gift they can leave their children is money. I believe it is possibility. The possibility of choices. The possibility of opportunity. The possibility of a stronger starting point. The possibility of building something even greater. Generational wealth is not about creating dependency. It is about creating opportunity. It is about giving future generations a foundation upon which they can build their own dreams. Own your life Generational wealth does not begin with a million dollars. It does not begin with a perfect investment. It does not begin with extraordinary circumstances. It begins with a decision. A decision to think differently. A decision to act intentionally. A decision to become the person who changes the trajectory of a family. The future generations in your family may never fully understand the sacrifices you made. They may never know every challenge you faced. But they will live in the reality you helped create. That is why generational wealth starts with a decision. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Jannelle Jemmott Jannelle Jemmott, Founder, Own Your Life Jannelle Jemmott is an entrepreneur, agency owner, speaker, and founder of Own Your Life. Growing up between the United States and Trinidad & Tobago and surviving three life-threatening accidents shaped her mission to help others take ownership of their future. Today, she helps women, entrepreneurs, and families build wealth, leadership, and a lasting legacy through business ownership, financial education, and personal development. As a wife, mother of three, and host of the Own Your Life podcast, Jannelle is passionate about helping people create opportunities that impact generations to come.

Written by Rasha AlShaar, Mind-Body Coach Rasha AlShaar, Professional Certified Coach (PCC), is a Mind-Body Coach with an integrative approach to healing and self-development. By merging modalities that range from mindset and somatic tools, she's on a mission to facilitate full-body healing and head-to-toe awakenings to help people embody their authentic truth and innate power. Sometimes, the clearest proof of healing comes in the smallest moments. Rasha AlShaar reflects on a simple interaction with her mother that revealed just how much her inner work, nervous system regulation, and self-development have transformed the way she moves through life. This week, on my mama’s and my annual trip together, something seemingly simple yet unforgettable happened. See, my mama knows the girl I’ve always been: equally deep and playful, silly and witty to my core. But a few days ago, it felt like she witnessed a newer part of me, one that’s just four or so years old, in a way she never has before. In the span of 30 minutes, I got to see my mama witness me as the usual playful girl I’ve always been and realize that the dysregulated girl I once was was gone. This summer, Mama really saw the regulated woman I’ve become. A ruined plan at the pool It was our last full day on holiday, and we had a meeting for Mama scheduled at 10:00 a.m. that was moved to 2:00 p.m. super last minute. So, we finished up breakfast and decided to have one final relaxing day at the pool. Obviously, happy Rasha! I had my last bite of a delicious hash brown, got changed, and lay in the sun until I could no longer resist the temptation of going into the empty kiddy pool right in front of me. I wanted to see what it was like to be on a small, bouncy castle-style obstacle built in the water. I’ve never seen one of those in a pool! Five minutes into fully submerging myself in the water and having way too much fun without a care in the world about who was watching, a full-blown adult play in a kids’ pool without an assigned "kid" in sight, they called Mama and moved the meeting back up to 10:00 a.m. Mama’s face changed. She told me apologetically that we’d have to head up right away to make it in time, offering several times to go on her own as I was getting out of the pool, in an effort not to ruin my last swim day. To each offer and apology, while still feeling super silly and giggly from my solo playdate, I replied, "Mama, why all the fuss? It’s really no biggie." As I walked through the reception, trying not to leave a trail of water behind me, as those annoying guests do, Mama was still voicing how bad she felt and how much better it would have been to receive that text just five minutes earlier. To which I replied, "Honestly, it’s okay. It’s completely fine. I’ll take a quick shower, and we’ll head out." The elevator realization I showered, got dressed, and as we waited for the elevator, Mama again expressed how bad she felt about ruining my day. I looked at her and said, "There’s nothing you need to be sorry for. It’s literally no one’s fault. Nothing happened. All is well." There was a moment of silence before Mama said, "Wow, you’ve changed. You really have changed." Without needing to ask for elaboration, I understood. I smiled and said, "I really did. I did a lot of work to get here." The work behind the peace That was the moment I felt like my mom saw the work I’ve done on and for myself actually working: the past 12 years of a cocktail of coaching sessions, circles, movement classes, and retreats. The playdates, cooking dates, and movie nights and all the courses, trainings, and certifications. I didn’t change who I am at my core. The parts of me that were truly me remained, and what wasn’t, dissolved. What changed was my nervous system. What grew was my capacity. I’m still the equally deep and playful one. I’m just no longer the hard, isolated, easily irritable one I was before I admitted I wasn’t okay and realized I wasn’t alone. Through it all, I learned that behind my sense of disconnection from the world was a disconnection from myself. Behind the tough exterior I carried was a soft, scared little girl whom I learned to hold again. Behind my short temper and irritability were a lot of uncried tears that I finally found safe spaces to shed. Making Mama proud So there I was, standing at the elevator at 32 years old, still super playful yet finally regulated, being seen by my sweet, sweet mama as the woman I chose to become. That, my friends, is a moment I’ll never forget. Because no matter how big I get or how much healing I do, I would still do anything to make my mama proud. For her to not just hear about my healing, but to feel and witness the impact of the very work I do for myself and guide others through. I am proud of myself, too. If you’d like to explore how I can support you on your own self-growth journey through mindset and somatics, I invite you to book a free consultation call. Together, we’ll chat about where you are today and where you’d like to be. Follow me on LinkedIn and visit my website for more info! Read more from Rasha AlShaar Rasha AlShaar, Mind-Body Coach With over a decade of experience in healing practices and self-growth tools, Rasha AlShaar founded her coaching practice in 2020, shaping her integrative approach through ongoing personal growth and rigorous training, blending subconscious, emotional, somatic, behavioral, and energetic modalities to best serve her clients. Rooted in her curiosity, driven by her commitment to service, and grounded in her PCC accreditation from the International Coaching Federation with 700+ hours of 1:1 coaching experience, Rasha is on a mission to help others on their transformative journeys as a Mind-Body Coach, guiding them to reconnect with their inherent wisdom and worth through insightful dialogue, embodied experience, and tangible action steps.

Written by Elizabeth Tsekouras, Education and Career Coach Liz Tsekouras is a successful education and career coach with a background in Sociology and Psychology. Her specialism is in neurodiverse coaching, where she provides tailored guidance to clients to improve their academic/career performance, confidence, and wellbeing. In today’s workplace, self-improvement has quietly shifted from a personal choice to an unspoken expectation. Employees are encouraged to optimise their habits, upgrade their mindset, refine their productivity, and continually be better. Social media amplifies this pressure with endless routines, hacks, and performance advice. Even wellbeing has become something to optimise. But behind this cultural push toward constant improvement lies a growing mental health concern. Many people, especially neurodivergent individuals, are experiencing exhaustion, anxiety, and emotional overload not because they lack motivation, but because they are overwhelmed by the demand to continually evolve. Self-improvement used to be about growth. Now it often feels like self-pressure. The hidden mental health impact The expectation to always improve creates several psychological challenges. Chronic comparison leads to persistent stress and a sense of inadequacy. Perfectionism becomes disguised as high performance, pushing individuals to maintain unrealistic standards. Emotional exhaustion builds as people try to upgrade multiple areas of their lives simultaneously, including productivity, communication, emotional regulation, confidence, and resilience. When improvement becomes a requirement, people begin to lose sight of who they are. Identity becomes shaped by external expectations rather than authentic strengths. When individuals inevitably fall short of constant optimisation, they often blame themselves, fuelling a damaging cycle of shame and self-criticism. A more sustainable approach Coaching offers an alternative to the pressure driven model of self-improvement. Sustainable growth focuses on nervous system regulation, authenticity, and realistic expectations. It shifts development from perfection to progress, comparison to individualisation, and pressure to permission. Five coaching shifts that reduce pressure The most powerful mental health shift is simple. You do not need to be better every day. You need to be well. A more sustainable approach to growth requires intentional shifts: From self-support to self-support, development becomes supportive rather than demanding. From perfection to progress, small, meaningful steps replace unrealistic leaps. From comparison to individualisation, growth aligns with personal strengths, not external standards. From pressure to permission, people are allowed to rest, pause, and be human. From “fixing yourself” to understanding yourself, self-awareness replaces self-criticism. With wellbeing, genuine growth becomes possible without sacrificing mental health in the process. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn for more info! Read more from Elizabeth Tsekouras Elizabeth Tsekouras, Education and Career Coach Liz Tsekouras is a dedicated coach and specialist neurodiverse educator who draws on over a decade of experience to help individuals build confidence, strengthen their learning skills, and navigate challenges with clarity and purpose. She provides personalised coaching that empowers clients to harness their abilities, develop effective strategies, and achieve meaningful academic, professional, and personal growth.

Written by René Caruso, Metabolic Health Specialist, Peptide Consultant René Caruso is a Metabolic Health and Longevity Strategist, speaker, author, and peptide-certified consultant known for translating complex health strategies into practical, real-world solutions for clients and clinicians. If you’ve followed countless plans and still don’t trust yourself around food, the problem may not be a lack of knowledge or discipline. In this article, metabolic health strategist René Caruso explains how rigid dieting can weaken confidence, why action must come before belief, and how small, repeatable wins can help you build a healthier relationship with food and yourself. What is self-trust? When people hear the word confidence, they often think of self-esteem, how you feel about yourself. But there’s another kind of confidence that matters enormously when you’re trying to change your health. Psychologist Albert Bandura called it self-efficacy, the belief that you can perform a specific action in a specific situation. That distinction matters. You can be highly capable in your career, dependable in your relationships, and confident in almost every part of life, yet still feel completely unsure of yourself around food. You may trust yourself to lead a meeting but not to walk into a restaurant without abandoning your goals. You may know exactly what a balanced meal looks like but doubt that you can choose one when you’re tired, stressed, traveling, or disappointed by the scale. Health-related self-trust isn’t the belief that you’ll eat perfectly, never miss a workout, or always feel motivated. It’s the belief that you can make a supportive choice, adapt when life changes, and return to your habits without punishment when you veer off course. That’s a much more useful form of confidence because it’s grounded in real behavior, not wishful thinking. How diets weaken trust Most diets begin with a promise–this time will be different. Then they hand you a plan that only works under ideal conditions. You follow it carefully for a while. Eventually, there’s a dinner out, a stressful week, a holiday, an injury, or simply a day when you can’t maintain the rules. The plan breaks down, but instead of questioning the plan, you question yourself. Repeat that cycle often enough, and every restart becomes another piece of evidence against you. You stop saying, “That approach didn’t fit my life,” and start saying, “I can never stick with anything.” A temporary behavior becomes an identity. That’s how dieting can quietly erode self-trust. I understand this personally. I spent years dealing with disordered eating, restriction, rules, and the belief that more discipline would finally make food feel easy. I was informed. I was determined. I was also exhausted. The turning point wasn’t learning one more nutrition fact. It was rebuilding the ability to respond to my body without turning every choice into a test of character. This is also why I wrote about the starting-over cycle and the missing piece in sustainable health. If the framework requires perfection, it will keep producing shame instead of skill. Knowledge isn’t enough Most of the people I work with don’t have an information problem. They already know that protein matters, sleep matters, movement matters, and ultra-processed food shouldn’t be the foundation of a healthy diet. Many can explain nutrition in remarkable detail. What they don’t have is enough lived evidence that they can apply what they know consistently in their actual life. Research supports the importance of that distinction. In a behavioral weight-loss study, eating and physical-activity self-efficacy before and during the intervention were associated with changes in dietary intake, activity, and weight. The point isn’t that confidence magically creates a result. The point is that belief in your ability to carry out the behavior affects whether you begin, how much effort you give, and whether you keep going when the process becomes inconvenient. Knowledge can tell you what to do. Self-trust helps you do it on the Tuesday when your meetings run late, your energy is low, and takeout is calling your name. Sustainable health requires both. "Confidence doesn’t arrive before the action. It’s built from evidence that you can act." Action comes first Many people wait to feel ready before they change. They want motivation, certainty, or a burst of confidence first. In practice, those feelings are unreliable. Confidence is usually the result of action, not the prerequisite for it. You do something difficult but manageable, discover that you can do it, and your belief begins to catch up with your behavior. This is where many health plans make a critical mistake. They ask you to prove everything at once. Eat perfectly. Train five days a week. Give up every food you enjoy. Sleep eight hours. Meal prep on Sunday. Drink more water. Track every number. That may create an impressive first week, but it creates terrible conditions for building trust because there are too many ways to fail. A better starting point is one promise that matters and that you can keep. It might be preparing a protein-centered breakfast before you open your email four mornings this week. It might be taking a ten-minute walk after dinner three nights. It might be packing lunch twice instead of promising that you’ll never order takeout again. The action should be meaningful but small enough that it can survive a normal week. Small wins build proof We tend to discount ordinary success. A missed workout can occupy our mind all day, while the four workouts we completed barely register. One meal that didn’t go as planned becomes evidence that we’re failing, while dozens of supportive decisions disappear into the background. If you want to rebuild self-trust, you have to become more accurate about the evidence. At the end of the day, ask yourself three simple questions. What promise did I keep? Where did I recover more quickly than I used to? What made the next supportive choice easier? This isn’t empty positive thinking. It’s a more honest accounting system. You’re training yourself to notice capability, not only mistakes. Over time, these small wins compound. You’re no longer trying to convince yourself with an affirmation that you’re “good at healthy eating.” You’ve got evidence that you can prepare breakfast, order a meal that supports your goals, stop eating when you’re satisfied, or return to your normal routine after a celebration. That kind of confidence is harder to shake because you earned it. Recovery is the skill The most important promise isn’t that you’ll never make an unplanned choice. It’s that you won’t turn one choice into a week of self-punishment. Most people don’t lose momentum because of one dinner, one dessert, or one missed workout. They lose it because of the story they attach to that moment. A quick recovery protects self-trust. Eat normally at the next meal. Don’t skip food to compensate. Don’t add a punishing workout. Look at what contributed to the choice. Were you underfed, overtired, emotionally depleted, unprepared, or in an environment that made the less supportive option the easiest one? Then adjust the system instead of attacking yourself. Consistency doesn’t mean leaving the path. It means shortening the distance between leaving and returning. Every calm return becomes another mastery experience, proof that a less-than-perfect moment no longer has the power to take you out of the game. Choose mastery over approval There are two very different ways to pursue health. One is driven by approval, the number on the scale, the compliment, the clothing size, the before-and-after photo, or the feeling that your body finally makes you acceptable. Those outcomes can be motivating for a while, but they’re fragile. When the scale stalls or the praise stops, the reason to continue disappears. The other approach is mastery. You become interested in learning how your body responds. You get better at reading labels, planning for travel, building a meal, recognizing true hunger, lifting with good form, protecting sleep, and choosing foods that help you feel clear and energized. The satisfaction comes partly from the result, but also from becoming skilled. Mastery gives you more ways to succeed. Even when body weight isn’t changing, your strength may be improving. Your energy may be steadier. You may be cooking more often, eating more protein, sleeping better, or recovering faster after an off-plan meal. Progress becomes broader, more honest, and much harder for one number to erase. Let your environment help I genuinely love grocery shopping. I know that makes me a little unusual. With local clients, grocery-store visits are sometimes part of our work together because that’s where health decisions become real. We read ingredient labels, compare options, look for unwanted additives, and find alternatives that fit the client’s goals and budget. We aren’t chasing a perfect cart. We’re reducing the number of battles the client has to fight later in the week. Your environment includes more than your pantry. It includes your calendar, your commute, your workplace, the people you eat with, the delivery apps on your phone, and the food that’s easiest to reach when you’re tired. A plan supported by those surroundings requires far less heroic resistance than a plan that argues with your life all day. This is also where a simple if-then plan can help. The National Cancer Institute describes implementation intentions as linking a specific situation with a specific response. If my late meeting runs past dinner, then I’ll use the prepared meal in the refrigerator. If I’m ordering at a restaurant, then I’ll choose my protein first and build around it. You’re making the decision before the difficult moment arrives. Use believable language The way you speak to yourself matters, but only if the language is believable. Telling yourself, “I never struggle with food,” won’t help when your experience says otherwise. A more useful statement is, “I know how to make one supportive choice at the next meal,” or, “One decision doesn’t erase the work I’ve already done.” Those statements are powerful because they can be verified through action. Each time you follow through, the words become more credible. Eventually, the voice in your head changes from a critic waiting for failure to a coach directing the next useful move. Many of us inherited an inner voice shaped by early caregivers, diet culture, coaches, partners, or years of comparison. You may not have chosen that voice, but you can decide whether it remains in charge. Rebuilding self-trust means learning to speak to yourself in a way that produces responsibility without shame. Test it for seven days For the next seven days, choose one health action you want to trust yourself to perform. Make it specific enough that you can clearly say whether you did it. Decide when and where it will happen. Keep the challenge small enough to survive a busy day, but meaningful enough that it supports your health. Then record the evidence. A simple check mark is enough. If you miss the action, don’t restart next Monday. Resume at the next planned opportunity and ask what would make the behavior easier. At the end of the week, review what worked before increasing the challenge. The goal of this experiment isn’t to transform your body in seven days. It’s to prove that your word to yourself can mean something again. Once that trust begins to return, larger changes become far more possible. Health confidence compounds Self-trust isn’t a personality trait that some people have, and others don’t. It’s built through kept promises, useful skills, honest reflection, and repeated recovery. It grows when your plan fits your life and when your definition of success is wider than a number on the scale. You don’t need to feel completely confident before you begin. You need one action you can repeat, one environment you can improve, and one opportunity to return without punishment. Do that often enough and the story changes. You stop seeing yourself as someone who always fails and start seeing yourself as someone who knows how to respond. Your body doesn’t need another perfection-based plan. It needs a relationship built on understanding, consistency, and trust. That’s how health stops feeling like a battle and starts becoming a way of life. Build health you trust If you’re tired of knowing what to do but not trusting yourself to follow through, René helps clients identify the metabolic, nutritional, behavioral, and real-life barriers keeping them stuck. Together, you build a health strategy that works in your actual life, not only under ideal conditions. Visit here to learn more or schedule a conversation. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from René Caruso René Caruso, Metabolic Health Specialist, Peptide Consultant René Caruso is a Metabolic Health and Longevity Strategist, speaker, author, and peptide-certified consultant with over 30 years of experience in nutrition, metabolic health, and behavior change. After overcoming decades of disordered eating and rebuilding her own relationship with food, René has dedicated her work to helping others restore energy, improve body composition, and find peace with food. She works with individuals, clinics, and wellness providers to translate complex health strategies into practical, sustainable programs that work in real life. Her mission is to help people cut through the noise, understand their body, and create health that finally feels doable. Sources: American Psychological Association. Self-efficacy: The theory at the heart of human agency. Bandura, A. (1977). Self-efficacy: Toward a unifying theory of behavioral change. Psychological Review, 84(2), 191–215. Nezami, B. T., et al. (2016). The effect of self-efficacy on behavior and weight in a behavioral weight-loss intervention. Health Psychology. National Cancer Institute. Implementation intentions.

Written by Courtney Lochner, Holistic Health Coach & Psychedelic Practitioner Courtney Lochner is a leading expert in psychedelic medicine for treatment-resistant anxiety, depression, and trauma. An Eric Hoffer Award-winning author and founder of the Intuition Rehab Lab (IRL), she teaches her signature holistic healing method to students, healers, and retreat participants around the world. Psychedelic medicine is having a moment. Podcasts, retreats, clinical trials, breakthrough therapy designations. The conversation has moved from the fringe to the mainstream, and for good reason. For many people, plant medicine has opened doors that a decade of talk therapy couldn't. But this moment is not new. Ancient Greek and pagan traditions used psychoactive substances in ritual, from the Eleusinian Mysteries to seasonal rites honoring the cycles of nature. Indigenous cultures across the Amazon, Mesoamerica, and beyond have worked with these medicines in ceremony for centuries, guided by lineage holders who understood them as sacred, not recreational. In the 1950s through the early 1970s, Western medicine took its own serious look, with clinical research into 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine (MDMA), lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), and psilocybin showing real promise for addiction, couples therapy, anxiety, and end-of-life distress, before the work was shut down by shifting drug policy and decades of stigma. What we are seeing now is a resurgence, not a discovery, built on all that history. That context matters. It is part of why readiness and reverence are not optional. Here is the truth nobody selling a retreat wants to put on a flyer–this work is not for everyone, and it is definitely not for everyone right now. I have sat across from people mid-ceremony who were not ready. I have watched what happens when someone walks into a medicine space expecting it to hand them something they were not willing to build themselves. The medicine is not the danger. The mismatch is. Before you book anything, here are seven signs it is time to pause: 1. You're not in touch with your anger Anger is often the emotion people have worked hardest to avoid, and it is exactly what plant medicine will not let you avoid. If you have spent years managing your anger instead of feeling it, understanding it, letting it move through your body, the medicine will find it and bring it to the surface. That confrontation can be transformative. It can also be overwhelming if you have never practiced being with that much charge in your own system. Start building a relationship with your anger before you ask a medicine to introduce you to it. 2. You hope or assume the medicine will do the work for you This is the biggest misconception out there, and it is the one that causes the most harm. There is no stop button. Once you are in it, the only way out is through. The medicine is not a treatment that gets done to you while you stay passive. It requires you to be an active participant, to engage with what arises, to stay present through the parts that are hard. If you are hoping to lie down and receive a transformation, you are misunderstanding what this is. There is no stop button with these medicines. The only way out is through. Going through your psyche is rarely lollipops and unicorns. 3. You lack a strong support system What happens after the ceremony matters as much as the ceremony itself. Integration is not optional, and integration does not happen alone. You need people in your life, a guide, a therapist, a community, someone who can help you make sense of what surfaced and hold you while it settles. Walking into this work with no one to walk out with you is one of the clearest signs you are not ready. 4. You're looking for adventure, not growth There is a difference between wanting a profound experience and wanting a profound story. If you are drawn to this work because it sounds exotic, intense, or like something to check off a list, that intention will meet you in the medicine space. This work asks to be entered with reverence and a genuine willingness to change, not curiosity about what it will feel like. 5. You're not doing work on yourself Psychedelic medicine is not a replacement for the ongoing work of knowing yourself. It is an accelerant. If there is no foundation, therapy, somatic practice, self-reflection, or honest inventory of your patterns, there is nothing for the medicine to accelerate. People who get the most out of this work are already in relationship with their own growth. The ceremony deepens what is already moving. It does not start the engine for you. 6. You're not prepared for a complete dissolution of how you see the world This medicine can take apart your understanding of reality and put it back together differently. Your beliefs about yourself, your relationships, what is true, what matters, none of it is guaranteed to look the same afterward. If you are not willing to have your worldview genuinely dismantled, or you are hoping to have a meaningful experience while keeping your existing framework fully intact, this is not that kind of work. Go in only if you are willing to let everything be questioned. 7. You haven't researched the origins and culture of the medicine These medicines did not appear in the wellness world by accident. They come from specific lineages, specific cultures, specific peoples who have carried this knowledge for generations, often at great cost. Sitting with a medicine without understanding where it comes from, who has protected it, and what respect is owed to that lineage is not just an oversight. It is a disconnection from the very thing that makes the medicine sacred in the first place. Do the research before you do the ceremony. Don’t trust just anyone. Consider doing the medicine in the plant’s native environment. Trust your gut. The last thing you need is some back-alley self-proclaimed shaman who studied psychedelics over a one-weekend course and now claims they can serve it too. Or even worse, someone who tried it once and now thinks they can host their own retreat. The bottom line None of this is meant to scare you off the work. It is meant to protect it. Psychedelic medicine, approached with reverence, preparation, and the right container, can be one of the most direct paths back to yourself that exists. But readiness matters as much as the medicine itself. If you recognized yourself in any of these seven signs, that is not a failure. That is information. Start where you actually are, not where you wish you were, and the medicine will be there when you are ready to meet it fully. Feeling ready? Contact me, and I’m happy to discuss options. Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Courtney Lochner Courtney Lochner, Holistic Health Coach & Psychedelic Practitioner Courtney Lochner is one of the foremost voices in psychedelic medicine for treatment-resistant anxiety, depression, and trauma. An Eric-Hoffer Award-winning author, board-certified health coach, and founder of the Intuition Rehab Lab (IRL), she has built a global reputation for turning the most complex healing modalities into accessible, life-changing practice. Certified in nutrition design from Harvard Medical School and medicinal plants from Cornell, and shaped by a career that has taken her across continents as a professional dancer and healer studying under various tribes in the Amazon, Lochner teaches her method to students and retreat participants around the world.

Written by Malgorzata Guyot, International Finance Executive Malgorzata is a Finance and Operations Executive with over 20 years of global experience helping organizations navigate growth and transformation across Europe and the U.S. She holds a PhD from Télécom SudParis, a leading French university. When a company makes an important decision, finance usually has an important voice. The nature of that contribution, however, depends significantly on the experience and perspective of the person sitting in the Chief Financial Officer (CFO) chair. Our professional backgrounds shape the way we analyze situations, the risks we notice, the assumptions we challenge, and ultimately the areas that receive the most attention. Over the course of my own career, I have had the opportunity to work in the four areas described below: external audit, internal audit, finance leadership and investing, and have seen how each adds a different perspective to the same business decision. Let’s imagine that a company is considering acquiring a business that operates a manufacturing facility. Strategically, the acquisition could be a valuable extension of its current activities, providing additional production capacity and access to new customers. Four different CFOs are asked to present their assessment of the deal to the board. They are all experienced and credible finance leaders, and they all have access to the same information. CFO 1: The former Big Four audit partner, and the risk perspective The first CFO spent many years in a Big Four firm, eventually becoming an audit partner. They have reviewed hundreds of financial statements, worked with dozens of boards and audit committees, navigated complex transactions, and developed a broad perspective on governance and risk. They know the sector extremely well and have participated in enough high-stakes discussions to recognize risks that may not be visible in the financial model. Their extensive network, most likely including CEOs, CFOs, and audit committee chairs from Fortune 500 companies, provides valuable benchmarks and perspectives. Their assessment will naturally place considerable emphasis on the reliability of the business being acquired and the risks the transaction introduces. At the intersection of finance and legal, they will scrutinize the quality of the target’s financial information, valuation, contractual commitments, litigation and potential liabilities. Complex areas such as consolidation, merger accounting and valuation will also form part of the assessment. Their understanding of the sector will add another layer, bringing geopolitical, regulatory and broader market risks into a discussion that could otherwise remain focused primarily on the financial model. The external perspective will matter as well. The acquisition will eventually need to be reflected in the company’s external reporting. The CFO will consider its impact on the risk disclosures in the 10-K or annual report, the way shareholders are likely to interpret the transaction, and the potential reputational risks if the investment does not develop as planned. This perspective gives the board a structured view of the financial, governance and reputational landscape related to the strategic opportunity. CFO 2: The former head of internal audit, and the process perspective The second CFO spent several years leading an internal audit function. Their attention will naturally move towards how the acquired company operates, how decisions are made, and whether the organization has the processes, systems, and controls required to operate effectively as part of a larger group. The maturity of the organization beneath the reported financial performance will be an important part of their assessment. For a manufacturing acquisition, the process perspective extends well beyond finance. Manufacturing processes, quality management, procurement, inventory, payments and financial reporting all need to work within the combined organization. The strength of the target’s control environment and any significant weaknesses will influence the integration priorities. IT platforms, systems integration and cyber risk will also receive significant attention. Many of these observations will flow directly into the company’s risk management activities. The acquisition may introduce new items into the internal risk matrix, while the facility itself may become a priority area in the following year’s internal audit plan. The audit committee will expect visibility over integration risks, remediation plans and the development of the control environment. This perspective creates continuity between the risks identified during due diligence and the processes, controls and governance required once the company becomes the owner. CFO 3: The finance operator, and the team perspective The third CFO previously held a Head of Finance role in another industrial company. They have spent years managing finance teams through budgets, forecasts, month-end closing, Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP) implementations, working capital challenges, and changing business priorities. Their first concern is therefore likely to be the team. They know that while an acquisition can look compelling in a board presentation, on Monday morning somebody still needs to pay suppliers, close the books, prepare the forecast and explain the monthly results. If the team is suddenly expected to integrate a new ERP, consolidate another legal entity, align accounting policies, redesign reporting, onboard new colleagues and support management with integration decisions while still running the day-to-day operation, it’s a perfect setup for failure. A finance team already operating at full capacity cannot absorb a major acquisition simply by adding an integration workstream to the existing agenda. Priorities need to change. Once the ability to execute is secured, the finance operator will focus heavily on the economics of the combined business. Manufacturing costs, margins, capacity utilization, working capital, budgeting and forecasting will all need to reflect the new reality. Cost savings and synergies will need owners and regular follow-up. Net Present Value (NPV) and scenario analysis remain important, but this CFO brings an additional layer–translating the assumptions approved in the investment case into the business's monthly performance management. CFO 4: The investor, and the IRR perspective The fourth CFO comes from an investment background, having worked in venture capital (VC) or private equity (PE). They have reviewed hundreds of business cases, participated in numerous due diligence processes, and spent years making decisions about where capital should be deployed. Their perspective will naturally focus on the relationship between the capital invested today and the value that can be created over the coming years. The acquisition will be considered through a clear value creation thesis. The starting Earnings Before Interest, Taxes, Depreciation and Amortization (EBITDA), the potential to increase it, and the operational initiatives required to achieve that improvement will form the core of the assessment. Synergies, commercial growth, productivity improvements, automation and changes to the cost structure will be translated into a transformation plan. A PE-style 100-day plan may establish priorities after closing, while the capabilities of the existing leadership team will be considered in the context of what the transformation requires. Internal Rate of Return (IRR), NPV and the impact on enterprise value provide the financial framework for this perspective. The investor will also bring a strong sensitivity to the cost of capital, comparing the expected return from the acquisition with other uses of the company’s capital. The transaction becomes part of a longer value creation journey in which operational improvements, strategic execution and capital allocation ultimately need to translate into increased value for shareholders. Bringing the perspectives together All four CFOs would produce excellent assessments of the same acquisition. Each would bring considerable expertise to the boardroom and identify issues that materially improve the quality of the decision. Their different backgrounds create different centers of gravity, risk and external stakeholders, processes and controls, people and execution, and return on invested capital. The real strength comes from having these perspectives work together, with each contributing something different to the overall assessment. You can have the world’s best violinist, pianist and percussionist, but the quality of the performance depends on how well they listen to one another and understand their role within the composition. Finance works in a similar way. Risk, processes, people, performance and return on capital are interconnected elements of the same business decision. Bringing them together gives management and the board a more complete picture of the opportunity, the organization required to deliver it, and the value that can realistically be created. Follow me on Instagram, LinkedIn, Twitter, and visit my website for more info! Read more from Malgorzata Guyot Malgorzata Guyot, International Finance Executive Malgorzata is a Finance and Operations Executive with over 20 years of global experience helping organizations navigate growth and transformation across Europe and the United States. She has worked with both publicly listed and private equity-backed companies, supporting leadership teams through periods of change, expansion, and complexity. Her career has taken her across multiple countries and cultures, shaping a global perspective and a practical, people-centered approach to leadership. Today, she advises executives and boards on building resilient organizations, strengthening governance, and making better strategic decisions. Malgorzata holds a PhD from Télécom SudParis, a leading French university.

Darren Tebbenham lectured in sport and exercise psychology before deciding the industry had the problem backward. Eat less, move more, choose low-fat–he questions all of it. Now The Diabetes Coach, he helps people prevent and reverse type 2 diabetes–the point where the familiar cycle of losing weight and regaining it stops being disheartening and becomes a disease getting closer. He has written two books on it and taught his approach to more than 3,000 health professionals across 30+ countries. Darren Tebbenham, Metabolic & Mental Health Expert He is equally blunt about corporate wellbeing, apps nobody opens, webinars nobody attends, all of it measured in sign-ups rather than outcomes. His alternative is measurement: more than 160 BodyScans in a single morning at NFU Mutual, then an honest conversation with staff about what their own numbers meant. Here he argues that metabolic health is mental health, and that lasting change starts from the inside out. Your message is that "metabolic health is mental health." What led you to connect those two ideas so closely? Watching the same thing happen over and over. Someone changes what they eat, starts lifting, gets their blood sugar steady, and comes back three weeks later saying the fog has lifted and they're not snapping at their kids. Nobody promised them that. It just happens. I came at it from psychology, so my instinct was always that the mind drove the body. It took me years of coaching to accept the traffic runs both ways, and heavily. Your brain runs on glucose and is exquisitely sensitive to how well you handle it. Mood, focus, resilience, motivation, all downstream of metabolism. We've built an entire wellbeing industry around mindfulness apps while ignoring that half the workforce is on a blood sugar rollercoaster from 7 am. You cannot think your way out of a physiological problem. You left academia because you believed knowledge alone rarely changes behaviour. What did the real world teach you that the classroom could not? That I was answering a question nobody was asking. In a lecture theatre you assume the gap is knowledge. Fill it, and behaviour follows. Then you stand on a gym floor and meet a woman who can tell you the glycaemic index of everything in her cupboard and is heavier than she's ever been. The information wasn't missing. It was never the problem. What the real world teaches you is that people don't fail on the plan. They fail on Tuesday, when the plan meets a bad night's sleep, a birthday cake, and someone else's crisis. Nobody in academia was studying Tuesday. You've recently narrowed your focus to diabetes specifically. Why now? Frustration, if I'm honest. I've spent twenty years watching people lose weight and put it straight back on. For most people, that cycle is disheartening. For someone insulin resistant, it's something else entirely. It's a disease getting closer. Same failure, completely different stakes. More than one in five UK adults now lives with diabetes or prediabetes. Millions have been handed a leaflet and told to lose a bit of weight by people who genuinely care but have twelve minutes and no mechanism to offer. Meanwhile, I'd been pointing everything I know at people who wanted to look better in a dress. At some point that becomes indefensible. So the work sits under The Diabetes Coach now, preventing and reversing type 2, not managing it. Your Inside-Out Transformation framework starts with identity before habits. Why does that order make such a difference? Because habits built on top of the wrong identity are a rented house. They stand up beautifully until something shakes them. If you think of yourself as someone who's trying to eat well, every meal is a test you can fail. If you think of yourself as someone who eats well, most meals aren't decisions at all. Same behaviour, completely different load-bearing structure. It's also why "all-or-nothing" is so destructive. When the plan requires perfection, the first ordinary human moment doesn't dent it, it ends it, because you've relabelled yourself as "off it". Change the identity first and a bad Tuesday is just a bad Tuesday. Everyone starts with habits because habits are teachable and identity feels woolly. It's the wrong way round. Mental health is often treated separately from physical health. What needs to change in healthcare and workplaces? In healthcare, an honest conversation about direction of travel. We're superb at treating symptoms and largely uninterested in root cause. Someone gets medication for blood pressure, statins for cholesterol, an antidepressant for mood, three prescriptions for what is very often one underlying problem, and nobody joins the dots. In workplaces, it's simpler and more fixable, stop measuring wellbeing by sign-ups. Every organisation I meet can tell me how many people downloaded the app. None can tell me whether anyone got healthier. Measure something real. Then you have a baseline, an obligation and, for the first time, a way of knowing if any of it worked. After training more than 3,000 health professionals, what separates coaches who create lasting transformation from those who simply share good advice? The good ones are comfortable being quiet. Average coaches perform expertise, they explain, prescribe, demonstrate how much they know. It feels like value, and it changes nothing. The ones who get results ask better questions and then shut up long enough to hear the answer. The other difference is what they do with failure. Most coaches treat a missed week as a discipline problem, which lands as blame and makes the next week worse. Good ones treat it as information, something in the design didn't survive contact with this person's actual life. Fix the design, not the person. BodyScan assessments give people measurable insights. What conversations do those results usually start? Better ones than I expect, every time. The scale is the crudest instrument in the building, and we've built an entire industry around it. A BodyScan shows what it can't, whether you're carrying muscle or quietly losing it, where the fat actually sits, what your metabolism is doing. Two people at identical weight can have completely different risk. At NFU Mutual, we ran more than 160 scans in a single morning and then stood up and talked to staff about their own numbers. The room changes when it's personal. Nobody attends a wellbeing webinar, everybody queues to find out what's happening inside their own body. The conversation shifts from willpower to biology, which is the moment people stop feeling like failures and start moving. Where do you stand on Mounjaro, Ozempic and the rest? Neither for nor against. That's between a patient and their prescriber, and I don't prescribe. But I'll be direct about what they are. A glucagon-like peptide 1 (GLP-1) shrinks your appetite. It doesn't change your relationship with food, it doesn't protect your muscle, and it doesn't build a single habit for the day you stop. It's a window, not a fix. Used alongside the right dietary change and proper resistance training, they can be genuinely transformative. Used instead of changing anything, the weight comes back and often takes muscle with it, so you end up lighter, weaker, and more insulin resistant than when you started. Ninety days to break the grip of cravings is one thing. A prescription as a permanent substitute for skill is another. When someone has tried countless diets without lasting success, where do you encourage them to begin? By letting themselves off the hook, and I mean that practically rather than as comfort. They've been told to eat less and move more. For someone insulin resistant, that's the one instruction that can't work. High insulin physically blocks fat release, so they cut harder, nothing moves, and they conclude the problem is them. It was never willpower. It was a hormone, and nobody told them which one. So we start with measurement, not motivation. Five markers you can check at home in two minutes: waist against height, what a doctor's already said, whether you're on blood pressure or cholesterol medication, and whether the weight goes down, comes back, and is now stuck. Understanding why it's been happening does more for someone's motivation than any pep talk I've ever given. You return to the idea that change starts from the inside out. How has that shaped your own life? It's made me suspicious of my own discipline. I used to think I was a disciplined person. I'm not especially. What I have is an environment and an identity that make the right thing ordinary, and on the occasions I've let those slip, my supposed discipline evaporated exactly like everyone else's. That's been humbling and useful. It's very hard to lecture someone about willpower once you've watched your own fail under mildly difficult conditions. What are you building now? Three things that are really one. The Diabetes Coach, a ten-week online programme combining nutrition coaching, live strength training and the accountability that makes it hold. The first week is free. Alongside it, my colleague Allison Rumgay runs The Women's Strength Coach, the same programme through the lens of menopause and women's strength, which is a genuinely different physiological problem and deserves its own front door. Through Gloo Fitness, we take the whole thing into workplaces, scan the workforce, tell them what it means, then give them somewhere to go. Both my books, on the biology and the psychology of weight loss, are free to download here. If every leader understood one thing about metabolism, mental health and performance, what would it be? That the mental health, energy and productivity of their people have a physical foundation, and unlike almost everything else on the wellbeing budget, it can be measured. Scan a hundred employees, and you'll find people who have no idea they're walking towards type 2 diabetes. Not one of them will hear it from a mindfulness app. Measure it. Understand it. Change it. That's the whole job. Visit my website for more info! Read more from Darren Tebbenham

For nearly three decades, Dr. Irfan Atcha has built his career around one of dentistry’s more demanding areas: helping patients with missing teeth and complex dental needs find a path forward. His work in Chicago has centered on dental implants, full-mouth rehabilitation, and long-term treatment planning. But the story behind that work began much earlier, with a strong interest in science and a family environment that made healthcare feel both familiar and meaningful. “I grew up in Chicago coming from a family of mentors in medicine and dental medicine,” Atcha said. “That shaped and molded my mindset to go into healthcare and heal people.” That early influence would eventually grow into a career shaped by specialization, continued learning, and a willingness to take on cases that require more than a simple fix. Where science and service first connected Atcha’s interest in healthcare first took shape through science. He earned a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry from the University of Illinois in 1991 before continuing to the University of Illinois College of Dentistry, where he earned his Doctor of Dental Surgery degree in 1996. Biochemistry gave him a strong foundation in how the body works, while dental school showed him how scientific knowledge could be applied directly to patient care. That combination would become important later in his career as he moved toward treatments that depend on healing, planning, and a detailed understanding of oral health. His research interest also stood out early. While in dental school, he received a first-place award for a table clinic presentation focused on biochemistry research. That experience reflected a pattern that would continue throughout his career: understand the science, study the problem carefully, and then find a practical way to apply that knowledge. Finding a focus in complex dental care After graduating in 1996, Atcha began practicing in Chicago and serving patients with a wide range of needs. Over time, he became increasingly drawn to more complicated cases. Many involved people who had lost several teeth, had failing teeth, or needed a broader rehabilitation plan rather than one isolated procedure. He describes his work as serving “complex dental patients in the Chicagoland area who need rehabilitation with dental implants.” These cases can be challenging because one issue often affects another. Bite function, bone support, healing, comfort, and long-term stability may all need to be considered at the same time. That complexity became part of what interested him most. Instead of viewing each problem separately, he began focusing on how the full treatment plan could work together. For a patient, that difference can be significant. A single dental problem may be obvious, but the larger goal often involves restoring function across the mouth in a way that can hold up over time. The shift toward implant dentistry Implant dentistry eventually became a central part of Atcha’s professional work. His areas of focus have included same-day dental implants, replacing missing teeth, implant-supported dentures, and full-arch treatment options such as All-on-4 dental implants. For Atcha, the appeal was not simply the procedure itself. It was the planning behind it and the chance to help patients whose needs could not always be solved with a basic treatment approach. That helped shape one of the biggest ideas behind his career: complex dental care works best when the entire situation is considered, not just one tooth at a time. He has repeatedly emphasized “long-term success with dental implants” as an important part of his work. That focus shifts attention away from the procedure alone and toward how the final result functions over time. In that sense, implant dentistry became a natural extension of his earlier interest in science. Both require patience, careful evaluation, and an understanding that small details can affect the larger outcome. Building expertise beyond the classroom Atcha continued his education after dental school rather than treating his DDS as the end of his training. He earned Fellowship and Diplomate recognition through the International Congress of Oral Implantologists. He also received Fellowship and Diplomate credentials from the International Dental Implant Association. His work earned further recognition at an international dental implant meeting, where he received a first-place table clinic award. These achievements reflect another idea that has stayed consistent throughout his career: expertise has to keep developing. Dentistry has changed significantly since he began practicing in the 1990s. Imaging, treatment planning, materials, and implant techniques have all advanced, creating more options for both dentists and patients. For someone working in a specialized field, staying current means more than learning new tools. It means deciding which developments actually improve the way care is planned and delivered. Three decades of change in the dental chair Practicing since 1996 has given Atcha a long view of how dentistry has evolved. Patients today often arrive with more information, more questions, and higher expectations about what treatment can achieve. At the same time, advances in implant dentistry have made it possible to approach some cases in ways that were less common early in his career. That has made communication and planning even more important. A patient dealing with missing teeth may be looking for a fast answer, but complex treatment rarely comes down to one decision. Dentists have to consider the condition of the mouth as a whole and how each stage of treatment fits into the next. Atcha’s response has been to stay focused on the larger picture rather than chasing one technique or trend. The technology may change, but the need for sound judgment and thoughtful planning remains. A career built on long-term thinking Long-term thinking may be the clearest theme running through Atcha’s work. Complex dental rehabilitation often involves several decisions at once. Looking only at one problem can miss what the patient may need six months, a year, or several years later. That mindset has helped define the way he approaches implant dentistry. The goal is not simply to complete treatment. It is to build a plan around function, healing, and durability. His focus on long-term success also connects back to the reason he entered healthcare in the first place. “I wanted to go into healthcare and heal people,” he said. That idea may sound simple, but it has shaped nearly every stage of his career, from his early science education to his work with complex implant cases. Beyond the practice Atcha’s career has also brought recognition outside the dental office. He has been included in Marquis Who’s Who and featured in Fortune-related coverage. His interests extend beyond dentistry as well. He has supported Susan G. Komen breast cancer initiatives and Room to Read, including helping host events. Away from work, he enjoys running, fitness, and travel. Those interests share a common thread with his professional life. Each rewards consistency, preparation, and steady improvement over time. That same mindset has helped him build a career that has lasted through major changes in both dentistry and patient care. What comes from staying the course Atcha’s career has not been built around one dramatic moment. It has developed through a series of choices that built on each other over time. A family connection to healthcare led to an interest in science. Science led to dentistry. Dentistry led to complex rehabilitation and implant care. Continued education then helped deepen that focus as the field evolved. Nearly three decades later, the result is a career built around solving difficult problems in a structured way. For Atcha, bringing big ideas to life has meant turning a broad goal – helping people heal – into years of focused work, continued learning, and increasingly complex patient care. That steady approach has shaped his career from the beginning and continues to guide the work he does today.