Unravelling...from 40 mins with a health coach
The three simple changes that actually clicked
I’ve worked in health journalism for over 15 years, so it’s fair to say I know a thing or two about leading a healthy(ish) life. Eat the rainbow, move your body, and, if you can, get enough sleep. So far, so simple.
The main thing I’ve learned is that no matter what trend rolls around, there’s never a quick fix. No secret elixir or magic pill. It’s everything in moderation — in all its mundane, unsexy realism. Yet nothing is ever that black and white, is it? Especially when it comes to habits. They’re quick to make and hard to break. And while I basked in the osmosis of daily health facts, it turns out that after just 40 minutes with a health coach, I was full of bad habits.
I first met Rebecca Wiggins just after I’d had my son. At the time, she ran our local The Mum Club group, and our boys were born just days apart. Over the past three years, she’s retrained as a holistic health coach, so when I bumped into her recently at a local networking event, I jumped at the chance to work with her on my own health goals.
Part of me thinks it might have been easier if I didn’t know what my problem was. At least then I could be guided toward a solution. But I’m painfully self-aware. I confidently informed Rebecca that I knew exactly what was going on: when I had my son, I lived off sugar and adrenaline — ready to respond to his every need, fuelled by tepid tea and half a biscuit. I remember one time my husband came home and asked why I hadn’t eaten. I told him I had tried, but the crunch of an apple had woken the baby, and I wasn’t about to risk that again.
Fast forward three years, and part of me still feels in survival mode. Lovingly preparing wholesome meals for my son while scraping together crumbs for myself. I write about the importance of protein, fibre, and nutrient-rich meals, while fuelling myself with tea, toast, and Deliciously Ella oat bars.
The worst part? I’d convinced myself I was making healthy choices. The tea? Decaf. The toast? Wholemeal, packed with seeds. Deliciously Ella? Need we say more? And when I top up my blood sugar with chocolate, it’s always dark — for the antioxidants, obviously.
When I sat down with Rebecca over Zoom, she asked why I didn’t nourish myself the way I did my son. My answer? It just felt too overwhelming to fit into my life. I knew what I needed, and I’d scroll past endless content of people making pimped-up omelettes, overnight oats, and kale-draped lunches with shopping list-length dressings. Seeded crackers. Homemade bounty bars. But what working mum has time for that?
What I needed was someone to help me bridge the gap between what I knew and what I actually did. I didn’t need a new trend — I needed habits I could stick to. I needed someone to take the mental load off.
I told Rebecca how I’d prepare a morning feast for my son — natural muesli, Greek yoghurt, berries — while downing my decaf and racing to start the day. She looked at me and said, “Why don’t you just get another bowl out and make the same for yourself?”
It seemed so obvious, I felt like a fool. But somehow, once he was eating, I’d use the time to blitz the kitchen, pack his bag, reply to emails; all the things I could have done after I’d eaten, too.
Then she asked how much water I drank. “Does the water in my tea count?” I joked. Truthfully, I guzzled water just before bed, probably out of dehydration, and otherwise subsisted on fake tea all day.
She gently challenged my snacking, too. Did I really need that biscuit with my cuppa? Was I even hungry? It took me back to my childhood — weekends with my grandma, cosy in dressing gowns, milky tea and a barrel of biscuits. The tea wasn’t the point. It was a biscuit-delivery system.
Eat breakfast with my son. Drink more water. Cut back on mindless biscuits. Hardly revolutionary advice. But something about the simplicity of it clicked.
Since then, I’ve sat down for breakfast with my son every morning, choosing to nourish myself as well as the home. I’m drinking more water, which has naturally meant fewer biscuits (fewer cups of tea needed). Instead of treating myself to Montezuma dark chocolate buttons, I bought Emily English’s new cookbook Live to Eat — and I’ve already made a couple of recipes.
It’s not just about breakfast and hydration, it’s about showing up for myself. Every day. I’m still someone worth investing in. I’m not just fulfilling everyone else’s needs; I need to fill up my own cup too — literally and figuratively.
Since turning 40, I’ve been chasing a desire to feel more alive. But what I’ve realised is: it starts with me. Choosing to cook a nourishing meal. Wear something joyful. Spritz perfume. Write. Go to dinner with friends. Move. Laugh. Dance. Rest.
I’d forgotten I was worth carving out time for. Sometimes, it’s as simple as someone asking you to set out another bowl. You might be surprised how quickly yours starts to fill up.