I’ve always been a writer. There’s something sacred about turning words into something tangible, finding threads of meaning that weren’t obvious at first glance, and weaving them into stories that resonate.

But as life does, it shifted me onto a different path: design operations management. On paper, it felt practical, grounded, and far removed from the creative space I cherished.

For a while, I tried to reconcile this dissonance, but it was like living with a foot in two worlds. The part of me that wrote to breathe, and the part of me that managed the mechanics of work.

January hit me hard. I felt scattered, as if someone had thrown my life into a puzzle box, shaken it, and dumped all the pieces on the floor. Everything felt disconnected, disjointed.

I was pulled in so many directions, I couldn’t remember which way was forward, let alone who I was at my core.

That’s when I remembered the words from a psychic reading I did weeks before. “You are scratching the surface. You need to go deeper. Work from the inside out, not the other way around,” my guides said.

It should have made me feel empowered. Instead, it threw me.

How do you work from the inside when all you want is for the outside to stop feeling so damn chaotic?

But then, something clicked.

The message wasn’t asking me to change the outside world. It was about imagination.

Not the kind that lets you escape, but the kind that helps you re-member yourself, piece by piece.

What if the disconnection I was feeling could be bridged, not by forcing the pieces to fit, but by imagining a new way of assembling them?

I asked myself some basic questions. “What do I want to see? What do I want to feel?”

It wasn’t about some distant dream I couldn’t touch. It was about imagining my life in the here and now, bringing the scattered pieces of me back together.

Slowly, things began to shift. The reading had said, “Look to the horizon through your imagination. What you would like to see must be created by you and through you.” And they were right.

My pieces weren’t lost. They were simply waiting in the wings, ready to be reclaimed.

One of the most powerful realisations came through my work.

As I helped my colleagues craft their leadership profiles, I saw my creative self re-emerge in all her empathetic, intuitive glory.

Helping them reframe their experiences into cohesive narratives wasn’t just about leadership. It was about piecing together who they were, and in doing so, I started to see my scattered self fall into place.

I use my words not just to tell stories, but to build relationships, to nurture trust.

It’s not just about leadership profiles. it’s about re-membering, for them and for me.

Through my creative gift, I am helping them connect the dots of their own stories. Each story I help shape is a reminder of the power of re-imagining the pieces of life.

My creative passion is finding its way into my career, not by compartmentalising who I am, but by letting it flow into everything I touch.

The harmony I’ve been chasing between my work and my passion isn’t about forcing them to fit into neat little boxes.

It’s about letting my creative self breathe into the systems and operations I was managing.

It is about realising that imagination, far from being a distraction, allows me to navigate the ups and downs of my professional life with grace and connection.

The reading reminded me to stop skimming the surface and dive deep, to feel my way through the chaos instead of thinking my way out of it.

The more I lean into my imagination, the more I find that everything is connected. My writing, my work, my relationships. They all feed into each other.

The creative flow is always there, waiting for me to stop fighting and let it in.