INTRODUCTION

I sat in my corner office on the top floor of one of the most beautiful office buildings in Sydney, staring out over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. My assistant handed me a stunning black lace Collette Dinnigan cocktail dress and strappy Jimmy Choo shoes to change into.

I rode down the lift and slid into a black limousine that was waiting for me and was whisked off to Bondi Beach. There, I was welcomed into James Packer's magnificent beachfront apartment, where I joined my male colleagues for a cocktail party. James sat on the board of our company, and at the time, he and Kerry Packer were major shareholders in the business I worked for, as well as one of the wealthiest families in Australia.

I was thirty-two years old, the youngest on the team by some years, and the only female on the executive leadership team. We were a top 200-listed financial services company in the middle of a merger. I had spent the afternoon arguing with investment bankers and lawyers about how we were going to communicate the merger to our staff, shareholders and clients. I had some good wins and was feeling pumped.

It was a heady experience being surrounded by so much masculine intellectual horsepower. I had always been both attracted to and intimidated by intellect?-?especially intellectual men. And with that, I often underestimated and undervalued my own skills, talents and intellectual capacity. The men I was working with were, unquestionably, some of the brightest around.

I was also attracted to power, and unconsciously, I associated male intellect and success with that power. And I wanted some. I found it exciting to both be a part of and, at times, to go up against it. Ultimately (and I say this with great self-compassion and no awareness of it back then), to try to manipulate them, and in some way, take my power back.

I was desperate to feel safe, to feel equal, to not feel powerless. To feel seen and acknowledged, to belong, to feel enough. Alternatively, I would try to compete with them, try to be like them?-?just one of the boys, living my masculine traits of doing, striving, achieving, competing. I would tell myself I had to toughen up and hide my feelings. I would often stay silent about things that really mattered to me. I vacillated between what I would call my 'immature feminine' and my overly identified, extreme 'immature masculine'.

It didn't help that I had no qualifications, which meant I spent my working life feeling like an imposter. And here I was, in the financial services industry, which was arguably one of the most male-dominated and intellectually challenging at the time. I made my way to the top echelon by the age of thirty-two.

I remember how awe-struck I felt as James took me for a tour of his home. I had made it.

I had a husband who had been a vet and was now an investment banker?-?what a combo! A gorgeous, healthy, fourteen-month-old son. We were building a beautiful big home on the leafy lower north shore. I had all the material things I could want. I drove a brand-new BMW, for which I had paid cash with my last bonus. I wore all the designer labels and sat at the front of the plane when I travelled. Finally, I had everything that I believed I needed to be happy, to thrive, to feel important and powerful.

I vividly remember excusing myself from the group, walking past a huge, stunning fish tank and entering the powder room. I looked at myself in the mirror, but this time was different. It wasn't a superficial glance to check if I looked attractive enough. I looked deep into my own eyes, and said out loud, 'You've made it honey. You did what you set out to do. You showed them.'

But looking back at me were the saddest, loneliest eyes I had ever seen.

In that moment, while I was not yet ready to admit it to myself, I saw the truth. I had dishonoured and abandoned myself in my need to feel liked, loved, important, successful, powerful and, ultimately, safe, particularly in a very male-dominated world. It had been a high price to pay.

That was the day it all began to unravel.

That year, my marriage ended and my dad got sick and died of cancer. I found new ways to numb my grief?-?both the grief of the present and the past. I worked harder. I drank more. I used drugs for the first time. I spent a small fortune as a way of pretending I was thriving. I found the most dysfunctional relationship I could as an unconscious way of punishing myself and replaying my attachment pattern, which had been established in my childhood.

To the outside world, even to my family and close friends, it still looked like I was thriving. I was so high functioning. I was the consummate swan, looking like I was gracefully gliding across the pond to the outside world. But underneath, I was kicking my feet a hundred miles an hour and barely staying afloat. Living on adrenalin and high-functioning anxiety.

And the 'universe', for want of a better term, knew that. As long as I stayed busy and used money and success to avoid myself, I was never going to stop and face what I needed to face. Myself. My truth. My needs and wants. My dreams.

A couple of years later, I was offered a lucrative voluntary redundancy and walked away from my corporate career thinking I was financially secure and just needed a 'bit of a break'. But I was never good at resting, and at one point in my on-again off-again 'break' I tried spending a week at a health retreat. They had a labyrinth, and while I was not particularly spiritual at the time, I decided to do a bit of a ceremony for myself. Late at night, under a full moon, I walked the labyrinth, which slowly wound its way to the top of a small hill.

At the top, I got down on my knees and prayed. This was not something I had ever done much of and I had no real sense of what to pray to, so I prayed to the moon. In that prayer, I surrendered. I turned my life and will over to a power greater than myself. I said, 'I am all yours. I don't know what I want or need. I don't know what is wrong with me. I just know I am deeply unhappy and I am tired. Oh, so tired. Please show me the way. I surrender.' In hindsight, I love that I prayed to the moon, as it is said to be a feminine symbol. Ultimately, that is what I had lost touch with: my feminine nature.

Within weeks of my surrender, the share market crashed, and with it, the second tranche of the options I had received disappeared. They had been considered a 'sure thing', and given this, I had bought a home in Balmoral Beach, one of Sydney's most expensive beachside suburbs, in advance of them vesting. Outside of my son, the most important thing to me, the only way I truly felt safe in the world was by having money. It gave me the illusion of control. Having a home was also super important as I craved the stability I had not had as a child.

In a moment, both my home and much of my money vanished. The rug was pulled out from under me. I was fully on my knees, with nowhere to go. And in hindsight, thank god!

I had spent much of my life searching. When I look back now, I am not even sure what I was searching for. At different times, money, control, validation, success, excitement, freedom, power, safety, family, love. But most of the time, what I was really doing was running away from myself: from my feelings, my fears, my hurts, my reality, my deep sense of unworthiness. I was also often denying my true self, including my own values, dreams, purpose, femininity, strengths and talents.

Now it was time to come face-to-face with it all. I had worked so hard to try to earn my worth and self-esteem and it hadn't worked. The life I was leading was not sustainable.

As a woman living in a patriarchal culture, and as a female leader working in a patriarchal culture and industry, there were so many ways I had abandoned myself and been silent. I had lost my way, which is so hard when you think you are meant to know your way and be perfect within it.

I spent the decade following my surrender coming home to myself. Reclaiming my strong feminine. Rediscovering the love and life I needed to truly thrive, rather than barely survive. Learning how to live, love, lead and succeed true to myself.

This is the story of me realising my intrinsic worth. Of learning I am enough. You are enough. We are enough. Just as we are.

My sincere hope is that you will find meaning in my story and the stories of many other women and that they support you to find your authentic voice, your value, radical resiliency and both fulfilment and meaning as a woman in the workplace and in life.

Ultimately, this book offers a roadmap to help you explore your story and realise your worth. It is about exploring the groundbreaking concept that true and sustainable success is not about working harder, but is about living and leading true to yourself. About leading your life and career from the inside out, from a sense of wholeness. About how you show up for yourself and how you show up with others.

This is the roadmap that, when consistently and compassionately practiced, will show you how to reclaim your true self and the life and career you want to lead. It will empower you to embody your inner confidence, calmness, and purpose. This is the roadmap for the inner work of extraordinary sustainable leadership, not just in the office but in every facet of life.

Content warning

As we commence on this journey of self-awareness,...