I was lying on the pavement with a broken leg, staring up at a collection of angry and bewildered faces, one of them waving my shoe in the air. In the space of probably 30 seconds, I had become public enemy number one. My leg was throbbing, and all I could think was, "Oh my god, I'm supposed to be at work. Why aren't these people helping me?" One of them shouted, "Are you stupid?" Another yelled, "Didn't you know this event was on today?" Looking up at them, holding back tears, I replied, "No! No, I didn't!"

As I was rushing to work early that sunny Sunday morning, shades on, head down, hungover, on a mission, I had run blindly across the road and into the biggest cycling event of the year. I didn't notice the barricades or the crowds on the other side of the road. Now faced with a group of angry cyclists hurtling toward me, I had to make a split-second decision to leap for the pavement. To be honest, if I hadn't done that, I might not even be here now. As I leapt for my life, my leg was hit by one wildly angry, swearing cyclist, and I tumbled to the ground, losing my shoes and my dignity.

I felt so stupid and embarrassed as I sat there for what felt like an eternity, waiting for first aid and an ambulance to get through the crowds. I stewed in my emotions, searing pains in my leg, surrounded by people who, at that moment, hated me.

At the time, I was working to live. I was assistant manager in a fancy restaurant, with a long career in high-end hospitality. It's what I knew best. I really loved aspects of it, but it was never what I really wanted to be doing.

I worked unsociable hours, so nearly all my socialising was done after work. I would eat late, eat on the run, shovel food into myself crouched down behind the bar, or not eat at all. I worked double shifts, partied hard, smoked cigarettes, and drank way too much of the really nice wine after work with my colleagues, just to wind down.

I had digestive issues and felt rough a lot of the time, but I just ignored the signals, put on some lipstick and carried on regardless—disconnected from myself, disconnected from my environment, and on autopilot with a broken navigation system. I truly believe this is how I ended up in the middle of that road facing a life-or-death decision.

Deep down, I didn't want to be living life like this. Yes, the parties were fun, yes, I thought it was all pretty cool, yes, the rich restaurant food was tasty and I enjoyed the swagger—but what I really wanted, what I wanted more than anything, was a family. I wanted to grow and expand my life beyond the confines of my work-hard-play-hard lifestyle. I wanted a meaningful career, a meaningful life, and I also wanted to stop feeling rubbish. I wanted to feel fully me, authentically loving myself and loving my life.

After the accident, I was fuming. I took no responsibility for what had happened and instead spent hours on the phone scheming to get compensation from the organisers and trying to get the name of the cyclist who hit me—because of course it was his fault!

I was trying to find someone to blame so I didn't have to face myself.

In the midst of all this came a second, devastating blow as I was plunged into the depths of grief and trying to cope with the sudden, unexpected loss of a close family member. All I will say is that this profound loss made all my blame-hunting and scheming seem so utterly insignificant and petty, forcing me to redirect my focus toward what truly matters in life.

In the months that followed, with a broken leg that wasn't healing properly, worsening digestive issues, unable to go back to my job, and in deep shock and grief, I finally made a decision: to address the signals, look at myself, and start to change my life.

I went to the doctors! I had surmised that maybe my digestion was bad because of a food intolerance. Maybe something I was eating didn't agree with me, or maybe the recent traumas had impacted my healing? I asked the doctor, and he looked at me in that condescending way some doctors do and scoffed that there was no such thing as a food intolerance, gave me a prescription for antidepressants, and sent me on my way.

I knew at the core of my being that I was grieving, but I wasn't clinically depressed. I took the tablets for two days—they made me feel as high as a kite, and I couldn't function properly at the boring office job I had taken on temporarily. I was desperately trying to heal, and I knew that if I was going to get through this, I had to take matters into my own hands. So, in my first act of self-care with a side of rebel, I threw the tablets in the bin and began my journey.

I absorbed so much information during that time. I watched video after video, I joined online health seminars, subscribed to healing foods and spiritual channels, tried alternative therapies, listened to experts in natural health, read books, and joined courses. It was fascinating and I was obsessed, so much of this information was deeply resonating with me, but I also found many conflicting ideas. The media had me so confused I kept asking, "But what's right for me?" I didn't know what advice to follow and felt more bamboozled than ever.

The pressures of wanting to fix my life were taking their toll, and my relationship was on the brink of destruction. When an opportunity came up to take an extended trip to Brazil, I grabbed it with both hands—maybe that's what I needed. My boyfriend and I took off for an amazing five weeks, on our return I found out I was pregnant with our beautiful daughter. An unbelievably happy ending to an epic trip and a very difficult few years, it finally felt like life was changing for the better.

However, after the birth, over the course of a year, life threw even more challenges at me and my digestive issues worsened again. My energy levels plummeted, I was overweight, practically narcoleptic, and had debilitating brain fog to the point that on many days I could barely keep my eyes open while looking after my toddler. It felt dangerous, and I was scared. I knew this was more than new-mum fatigue and I knew I couldn't be the mother I wanted to be feeling like this.

I didn't believe the doctors would help me with this, so I referred to all the information I had been absorbing and paid for a private blood test.

The results showed that, among other things, I had a yeast intolerance, and that sent me sleuthing once again. I found all these extreme symptoms were caused by an overgrowth of bad bacteria, and the gut-brain connection started to make sense. I discovered a super-strict diet that dealt specifically with this problem in a natural way, at this point I was willing to try anything. After cutting out sugar, taking massive oregano tablets, and drinking litres of an apple cider vinegar and cayenne pepper solution daily, I got better, lost weight, got my energy back, and felt great. However, It wasn’t fun and it was only a temporary fix to an extreme problem. As time went on old habits crept back in, I started to yo-yo, and what became very clear was that I had absolutely no idea how to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I kept wondering, "What do I need to do to sustain this?" I needed to figure out a way to maintain my health long-term.

By this point, I had proven to myself that you can heal naturally. I had started to build a solid faith in natural health and food as medicine. I knew this was the way forward, and I embarked on the next stage of my journey, learning more about the healing power of food. Being a sensual eater I love to cook and enjoy full flavours, having worked in some pretty high-end restaurants I wasn't willing to compromise on taste and satisfaction when it came to eating healthily.

The first time I tasted an entire meal that was just raw, plant based food was on a practical immersion training for healing diets. We made a raw vegan lasagna, I kept thinking ‘how on earth is this going to taste good’ and I can tell you, I was absolutely blown away by how delicious it was. I discovered how filling, tasty, and satisfying this food was, and after two weeks of this intensive training eating 80% plant based raw food, I felt great inside and out. I knew I had found a way to sustain vibrant, natural health that tasted wonderful and resonated with every cell in my body.

For me, this was an exciting new adventure, learning new techniques for food preparation that maximised nutrients and experimenting with flavours in a whole new way. It was like learning to cook again but with this extra drive that what I was creating would benefit my health in so many ways.

My beautiful cookbook collection supports my foodie passion for delicious dishes. I just love to experiment and get inspired by taking those flavours and creating low-cook or no-cook versions that feeds my soul and my health. I serve meals that look pretty on beautiful plates because we eat with our eyes, so creating and eating something beautiful is all part of my holistic approach to health and honours not just the food but reminds me to love myself enough to bother. Its totally worth it!