About

Hi, I am 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 father’s fifth nervous breakdown in five years, he left. Not because he didn't love us, but because staying any longer was something he couldn't survive. When he left, the whole house shifted. I stepped in. Not because anyone asked me to, but 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 on that being steady made life easier for everyone else, so I swallowed my feelings, quieted my needs and simply got on with it.

By high school, I began to realise other kids didn't live like this. They weren't constantly scanning the room for tension or carrying invisible lists in their heads. I pushed back in small ways, little rebellions that helped me feel like something belonged to me. But underneath all of it, I was still the one making sure everyone else was alright, 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. Wife. Caregiver. Business owner. Friend. Some roles fit like home. Others slowly chipped away at me.

After being a stay at home mum for 10 years, my work life began back in 2010 behind the scenes, editing wedding photos, running social media and 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 including marketing, design and content creation while still cooking dinner, helping out at school and silently falling apart in the bathroom.

Threaded through all of it was grief. A quiet grief that never really goes. I gave birth to my daughter, Willow, knowing I wouldn't get to bring her home. I saw her but couldn't hold her. I was terrified that if I did, I would never be able to let her go. That moment lives in me. Not loud, but deep. The world carried on, but I didn't in the same way. That kind of loss doesn't disappear. It lingers in the soft places. Some days it is a whisper. Some days it is a scream. I don't speak of it often, but it is always there. She mattered. She still does.

And maybe you know a loss like that too. One the world no longer asks about, but you carry anyway. If that is you, I want you to know I see you. You are 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.

My relationship with my body has been a long one.

I have struggled with my weight since I was seven. I've lost weight, gained it, tried again and fallen apart again. Some days I feel strong. Other days, ashamed.

There were times when it felt easier to obsess over my body than to face the weight I was carrying in every other part of my life.

Food became comfort and coping. Underneath all of that was a quiet ache that I might never be enough. If you've felt that too, 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 is hard to feel light on the outside.

There have been nights when I sat on the edge of my bed wondering how I'd do it all again tomorrow.

I've smiled while barely holding myself together. Cried in the shower so no one would hear. Longed for quiet. Begged for stillness. Then kept going anyway. Because that is 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 is 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 the way 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.

In the stillness between heartbreak and hope, I began dreaming again. Not of grand success or gleaming goals, but of easier days. A slower rhythm. A life where peace was not 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 and not in any dramatic way, but through tiny ordinary moments. A breath before I react. A hot cup of green tea. A quiet cry behind a closed door. A half written journal page. Little reminders that whisper I'm still in here.

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 everything alone. Real strength isn't about never falling apart. It's letting yourself be real, be tired and 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 I've learned that pausing is not failure. It's survival. It's choosing yourself in small, fierce ways.

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

I like things honest and simple. No sugarcoating. No pretending everything's fine. I cry when I need to. Swear when I have to. And I believe with my whole 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 somewhere to let your shoulders drop and breathe for a moment, you're in the right place. You're not alone anymore. Even if we're 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 everything together for everyone else, this is your place to fall apart gently and begin again.

Welcome.

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

I’m probably juggling ten things and a cuppa, but I’ll always write back.