About

Hi, I’m Sarah. And before I ever learned how to take care of myself, I was already carrying the weight of everyone else.

I didn’t grow up with softness. I grew up with pressure. After my dad’s fifth nervous breakdown in five years, he left. Not because he didn’t love us, but because he couldn’t survive staying. And when he walked out, the whole house shifted. I stepped in. Not because anyone told me to, because someone had to.

I became the calm one. The capable one. The girl who kept everything moving while holding everything in. I learned early that being steady made life easier for everyone else. So I swallowed my feelings, quieted my needs and got on with it.

By high school, I realised not everyone lived like this. Other kids weren’t constantly scanning the room for tension. They didn’t carry invisible to do lists in their heads. I pushed back, little rebellions, just to feel like something was mine. But underneath it all, I was still the one making sure everyone else was okay. Even when I was falling apart inside.

And somewhere along the way, I forgot what it felt like to be okay at all.

My husband and son are my world. They’re my home team, my soft place to land, and the reason I keep going, even on the days I want to hide under a doona with snacks and silence.

I’ve worn more hats than I can count. Daughter. Mum. Partner. Caregiver. Business owner. Friend. Some felt like home. Others slowly chipped away at me.

I started out behind the scenes, editing wedding photos, running social media, assisting at weddings. Eventually, I built my own multi award winning wedding planning business. I made magic for other people while quietly breaking inside. I taught myself everything, digital marketing, design, content creation, the invisible work that kept everything afloat while I was still cooking dinner, going to school meetings and silently falling apart in the bathroom.

Threaded through it all was grief. A quiet kind. A kind that never really goes.

I gave birth to my daughter, Willow, knowing I wouldn’t get to bring her home. I saw her. But I couldn’t hold her. I was so scared that if I did, I’d never be able to let her go.

That moment lives inside me. Not loud, but deep. The world carried on, but I didn’t, not in the same way. That kind of loss doesn’t vanish. It lingers in the soft places. Some days it’s a whisper. Some days it’s a scream.

I don’t speak about it often. But it’s always there. She mattered. She still does.

And maybe you’ve known a loss like that too, one the world no longer asks about, but you carry anyway. If so…I see you.

You’re not alone.

These days, it’s green tea in my favourite mug or almond milk hot chocolate when it’s cold. Small comforts that remind me to pause. To breathe. To feel something good, just because I can.

I’ve struggled with my weight since I was seven. It’s been part of my story for most of my life, not just in my body, but in my thoughts. I’ve lost weight, gained it, tried again, fallen apart. Some days I feel strong. Other days, ashamed.

There were times when it felt easier to obsess over my body than face everything else I was carrying. Food became comfort. Control. Coping. And underneath it all, there was always a quiet ache that maybe I wasn’t enough.

If you’ve ever felt that, if your body has ever carried more than just weight, I want you to know, I see you.

Because when you’re holding so much inside, it’s hard to feel light on the outside.

There have been nights I’ve sat on the edge of my bed wondering how I’d do it all again tomorrow. I’ve smiled when I was barely holding it together. Cried in the shower so no one would hear. Longed for quiet, begged for stillness…then kept going anyway.

Because that’s what we do.

A hot mug of tea. A random laugh with someone you love. A perfect breeze on a warm day. I believe it’s these simple pockets of joy that make everyday life extraordinary.

Right now, I’m caring for my husband as he lives with chronic illness. Most people don’t see it, but it’s there, every single day. I’m holding space for my son, running a household and piecing together a new life from the broken edges of an old one. Most days, I’m stretched thin. But I keep showing up.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped laughing like I used to. I forgot what I even liked. I stopped dreaming for myself and only dreamed for the people I love. Life hardened me. Asked me to be strong. So I forgot how to be soft.

But in the stillness, between heartbreak and hope, I started to dream again. Not of big, shiny goals. But of easier days. A slower rhythm. A life where peace wasn’t something I had to earn. A life that felt like mine again.

Now, I’m learning how to come back to myself.

Not all at once. Not in some grand breakthrough. But in small, ordinary ways. A breath before I react. A hot cup of tea. A soft cry behind a closed door. A journal page, half finished. Tiny moments that whisper, you’re still in there.

MotoGP is my obsession. I never miss a race, and honestly, I’m the biggest fan in the house.

I don’t have all the answers. I'm still figuring it out. But if life has taught me anything, it’s this, we’re not meant to carry it all alone. Real strength isn’t about never falling apart. It’s letting yourself be real. Be tired. Ask for help, even when you’re the one everyone else leans on.

I spent years pouring from an empty cup, convinced I had to hit rock bottom before I was allowed to rest. But here’s what I’ve learned, pausing isn’t failure. It’s survival. It’s choosing yourself in the smallest, fiercest ways.

I’m not here as an expert. I’m here as a woman who’s been through it. Still in it. The U Crew was born from my own burnout, the moment I realised I didn’t need another program or plan. I needed a place to land. To breathe. To remember who I was under all the noise. So I built it. For me. For you.

I like things honest. Simple. Real. No sugarcoating. No pretending everything’s fine. I cry when I need to. Swear when I have to. And I believe with my whole damn heart that even three minutes of stillness can change everything.

My ideal movie? Something with a love story, a touch of revenge, maybe even a Christmas setting, and if there’s a prince involved, even better. It’s an odd little mix, but it’s mine.

If you’re tired. If you’re carrying too much. If you just need one place to let your shoulders drop and breathe for a minute, you’re in the right place.

You’re not alone anymore. Even if we’re both still figuring it out, we don’t have to do it alone.

You matter. You’re human. And you’re home now.

If you’ve been holding it together for everyone else, this is your space to fall apart. Gently. And begin again.

Welcome.

You can write to me anytime at hello@theucrew.com

I might take a little time to reply, I’m juggling a lot just like you, but I’ll always get back to you.