There are some things in life that you never imagine will happen to you.

You have an idea of how your life is going to look. You have plans. A family. A home. A business. People you love. A future that, even if it isn’t perfect, feels familiar.

And then something happens that changes everything.

Over the last 12 months, my life has changed in ways I never expected.

Some of it has been very public. Parts of my story have appeared in national newspapers and magazines. Some people know exactly what happened. Others only know that something happened.

I’ve deliberately chosen not to put the details all over my own social media.

There are things that are too personal. Things that involve other people. Things that I don’t believe belong on Facebook or Instagram just because we now live in a world where we can share everything.

But I do want to talk about what happens after.

Because that’s the bit people don’t always see.

Survival mode doesn’t look how you think it does

For a long time, I wasn’t really living.

I was functioning.

There is a difference.

I got up. I worked. I looked after the people and animals that needed me. I answered messages. I ran my business. I smiled when I needed to smile.

But inside, I was exhausted.

There were months where I felt numb.

Months where I froze.

Months where getting through the day was genuinely enough of an achievement.

People would tell me:

“Time is a great healer.”

“You’ll get through this.”

“You’re so strong.”

“You’ll be okay.”

And I know they meant it kindly.

The difficult thing is that when you’re right in the middle of something, you don’t necessarily feel strong.

You don’t feel like you’re going to be okay.

You don’t know when it will stop hurting.

And you certainly aren’t sitting there thinking about all the wonderful lessons you’re going to learn from it.

You’re just trying to get through Tuesday.

And then Wednesday.

And then Thursday.

That’s survival mode.

I lost a life I thought I was going to have

One of the hardest things I’ve had to accept is that I’m not just dealing with what happened.

I’m grieving a life.

A version of my future that I thought was mine.

There are things I will never get back.

There are questions I may never have answers to.

There are things I will probably never fully understand, including why someone I loved made some of the choices they did.

And that’s incredibly hard to accept.

I can be moving forward and still be heartbroken about what I’ve lost.

I can smile again and still have days where I feel completely overwhelmed.

I can build a different life and still miss the life I thought I was going to have.

Both things can exist at the same time.

And I’ve learnt that healing isn’t necessarily about forgetting.

Sometimes it’s about learning how to carry something without allowing it to control every part of your life.

I’m not grateful for my trauma

This is something I’ve thought about a lot.

People sometimes say that everything happens for a reason.

That difficult experiences make you stronger.

That you’ll look back one day and be grateful for what happened because it changed you.

Maybe I’ll understand more about that one day.

But right now, I don’t feel grateful.

I never asked for this.

I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

And I don’t think becoming stronger means I have to be thankful for the thing that hurt me.

Yes, it has changed me.

Some of those changes might ultimately be for the better.

I’m more aware of what matters.

I’m more protective of my peace.

I’m more willing to say no.

I’m learning what I will and won’t accept.

I’m learning that I don’t have to keep everyone happy.

But I still wish I hadn’t had to learn those things this way.

And I think that’s okay.

You can grow from something without being grateful that it happened.

You can become stronger without celebrating the thing that broke you.

Somewhere along the way, Black Nova kept going too

One of the strange things about going through something personally devastating while running a business is that the business doesn’t stop.

Invoices still need sending.

Clients still need websites.

Emails still arrive.

Someone’s WordPress site still breaks at 9am on a Monday morning.

People still need hosting.

Ideas still need building.

And somehow, I kept showing up.

Black Nova has continued to grow, create websites, support clients, provide hosting, fix problems and help businesses navigate the world of technology.

There have been days when I have sat at my desk carrying far more than anyone knew.

And then I’ve opened my laptop and got on with it.

Not because I wasn’t hurting.

Because sometimes you just keep going.

And recently, we’ve had some really lovely recognition too.

Being named Bronze Winner – Business Leader of the Year 2026 made me incredibly proud.

But the award isn’t really the important part for me.

What matters is what it represents.

That despite everything, I kept building.

That my team kept going.

That our clients kept believing in us.

That Black Nova is still here.

Still growing.

Still helping people.

Still moving forward.

And if seeing that gives another business owner a little bit of belief that they can keep going through a difficult chapter too, then that means more to me than the trophy ever could.

I’m starting to find myself again

This is probably the bit I didn’t think would happen.

I’m smiling more.

I’m laughing more.

I’m enjoying weekends again.

I’m going for walks with fluffy dogs.

I’m having Sunday roasts with friends.

I’m sitting in the office with a coffee and thinking about what we’re going to build next.

They’re little things.

But they’re actually huge things.

Because for a long time, I wasn’t really feeling those moments.

I was surviving them.

Now I’m starting to live them.

I still have bad days.

I still have moments where something catches me completely off guard.

I still have questions.

I still have anger.

I still have grief.

But I’m also starting to recognise myself again.

And that feels pretty bloody good.

I’m not an expert

I want to make this clear because I talk quite openly about trauma, healing and rebuilding your life.

I’m not a therapist.

I’m not a counsellor.

I’m not someone who has figured life out.

I’m just Danielle.

I’ve had therapy. I’ve had help. I’ve made good choices and I’ve made some really rubbish ones too.

I’m still learning.

So anything I share here comes from my own experience.

Sometimes it’s something I’ve learnt through therapy.

Sometimes it’s hindsight.

Sometimes it’s something I’m still working out myself.

I’m not telling anyone what they should do.

I’m just saying:

This is what happened to me.

This is how it felt.

This is what helped me.

And maybe, if you’re going through something too, you won’t feel quite so alone.

That’s really why I’m sharing

I know that putting your life online comes with judgement.

I know people will think I share too much.

Some people will think I shouldn’t talk about it.

Some will assume I’m looking for attention or validation.

But if I was looking for validation, I probably wouldn’t share half of what I do.

The more honest you are online, the more opinions you attract.

But I also get messages from people I’ve never met telling me that something I’ve written has helped them.

That they’ve been through something similar.

That they didn’t feel so alone.

That they got through another day.

Those messages mean everything.

Because somewhere, there is always somebody quietly reading who might be exactly where I was.

Frozen.

Numb.

Angry.

Lost.

Wondering how they’re ever going to build a life again.

And I want them to know something.

You don’t have to be okay today.

You don’t have to understand why it happened.

You don’t have to find the lesson.

You don’t have to be grateful.

You don’t even have to know what you’re going to do next.

Just get through today.

Then tomorrow.

And then the day after that.

Because I am proof that things can slowly start to change.

Not because everything magically gets better.

Not because you forget.

Not because you suddenly become grateful for what happened.

But because, eventually, you can start building something new.

Something different.

Something that belongs to you.

And maybe one day you’ll realise you’re not just surviving anymore.

You’re living.

This is what I want Holmes is Where the Heart Is to become.

Not a perfect-life blog.

Not a place where I pretend I’ve got everything worked out.

A place where I can talk honestly about life, business, motherhood, relationships, resilience, dogs, family, mistakes, success, grief, rebuilding and everything in between.

The good days.

The really shit days.

And all the ordinary days in the middle.

Because life is messy.

I’m messy.

You’re probably messy too.

And maybe that’s actually the point.

You don’t have to have a perfect life to have a life worth living.

And if you’re somewhere in the middle of your darkest chapter right now, I hope you stick around.

Because I know how it feels.

And I’m still here. 🖤