For years, I looked like I had it figured out. I played international rugby for the Philippines, spoke on stages in front of 10,000 people, and built a career coaching high-level business owners and executives. From the outside, that looked like success.

From the inside, it didn't feel like enough. No matter what I achieved, there was always a next thing that was supposed to finally make it count. It never did.

I don't say that lightly. I was competing at an elite level, representing my country, being seen as someone with it together, and privately, I was falling apart.

In my late twenties it caught up with me completely. I was burnt out and running on empty, waking up with a pit in my stomach before the day had even started. I was financially broke, relying on my parents to cover rent, and I'd damaged a relationship I genuinely cared about through my own choices.

For the first time in my life, I couldn't see much good in myself at all. On paper, I was performing. Underneath it, I was running on nothing.

That was the moment I stopped trying to outrun it and started actually facing it. I didn't have a capability problem, I'd built plenty of that. I had a capacity problem: years of optimising performance while neglecting the person underneath it. No amount of winning fixes that until you actually address it.

That realisation is the reason I do this work, and it's shaped everything I've built since.