Andrea Kirby

In July, I was done.

Freshly diagnosed with inattentive ADHD at an age where I should have had it all figured out, I was mourning what could have been. I stayed in bed past lunchtime, doom-scrolling, keeping Talent Table alive while presenting a polished LinkedIn persona. Behind the scenes? The shit was hitting the fan. People were not booking for events, vendors changed their approach and events were dying.

2025 was supposed to be my year. Instead, I was opting out of everything. And for many of us, 2025 was a 'shitfuckery' of a year!

The WTF Moment

A friend reached out. She was joining a three-month breathwork program to "step into flow, alignment, and effortless impact."

My internal response? Eye roll. Woo woo nonsense.

I've never been one for meditation or affirmations. I'm my father's daughter - the man who joked about only needing one sock for Christmas after his leg amputation. Resilience through sheer will, that's my brand.

Except my resilience had deserted me. I wasn't just staying in bed - I was bed-rotting. A term and state I never want to revisit.

Something had to change.

So I booked a call with Rebecca Grainger, laughing awkwardly as she talked about "stepping into my flow" by breathing.

Just breathe, and everything will be alright. Cue the WTF face.

But what did I have to lose? I joined three other women - all "of a certain age," all no longer in love with our businesses or lives, all knowing menopause was kicking our ass.

The First Session

I sat in a car park outside a volleyball court (always showing up for Tom).

Not ideal, but given my skepticism, "it'll do."

When Rebecca asked what I wanted to achieve, I cried. "I just want to be happy."

We were all quiet, exhausted, and lost. I'd found my tribe.

That night, lying back in my car seat in the rain, I followed Rebecca's instructions. I got frightened and started to choke - probably resisting. I drained the car battery and drove home sobbing that everything was too hard.

But I slept. And the next morning, I was calmer than I'd been in months. Maybe years.

Breathing, Angels, and Dead Dogs

Every two weeks: beds, low lights, 90 minutes of breathwork. I was addicted.

During one session, after Loopsy Lou (my dearest dog) had suddenly died, she came to me, told me she was happy, that she'd be with me forever, and to let her go. Rebecca snapped a photo over Zoom. My face radiated joy, not grief.

Another week, someone stood by my bed radiating love. "Your guardian angel," Rebecca said. I named him Jack - my grandfather's name. The man who always thought I was perfect. The angel looked like him from his younger days.

I was officially into woo woo.

Permission to Stop

The biggest win? Rebecca gave us permission to stop.

I took Walker (fur baby) out every day. We both mourned Loopsy together and found our new way. Him, learning to be brave without her. Me, helping him find his new doggy world. I read entire afternoons away - habit stacking, community building, let them go, impact leadership. I started to meet people for coffee. I worked in the garden at our beach house - even during the week when my business brain screamed I should be doing more.

I didn't know what my business was anymore. Events were dying - no budget, no time, no numbers. I hated doing it alone.

By stopping, I let my brain process in the background. I forgave myself for not wanting to do it anymore. For waiting for a window to open after doors slammed shut.

The mad voices quieted. The thousands of tabs in my head closed. I had space to think, to feel, to plan.

Connection. Community. Clarity.

These words kept surfacing during downtime. This is what you do.

People approached me with ideas and ways I could work with them. I started saying, "That sounds interesting, let me think on it", instead of rushing to yes. Whatever I did had to bring joy, energy, and enthusiasm. And it had to pay.

By year's end, I'd stopped bed-rotting. Built routines. Managed my ADHD. My energy was higher but calmer. I liked myself again. And started two new roles as a community manager of humaneer and Circle Back Initiative. 

2026: The Year of Momentum

In our last session, Rebecca asked for our word for 2026. It's the year of the horse - energy, passion, bold action. After the year of the snake, when I shed everything that wasn't working, I was ready.

My word: Momentum.

My vision: Build consistent routines for controlled forward motion. Gallop, not wander. Supported by people I value more than they'll ever know.

I'm doing the big PeoplePalooza event in September - built by HR, for HR. Expanding our career website research. Growing two communities. Partnering on a brilliant 2025 idea.

Everything considered, planned, joyful.

Have I overcommitted? Probably. But it's fun overcommitment.

And it all started with a WTF moment and a "what have I got to lose?" thought process.

Here's to 2026 - where everything I do brings me joy, energy, and momentum, working with and for people that energise me and lift me up.