Hi, I am Ellie

I spent twenty-five years in HR.

Watching people navigate restructures and difficult environments, careers disrupted by circumstances nobody planned for. I was good at it. I knew how to hold space for people in their hardest professional moments.

What most of them didn’t know was that I was carrying my own version of it the entire time.

I was never consistently the confident one. In some areas I knew my worth. In so many others I felt like a fraud -fi and it wouldn’t have taken much to prove it. I was the person who would fight fiercely for her team, back them without hesitation, and then go completely silent the moment she needed to do the same for herself.

I had leaders who believed in me – genuinely, generously. And I spent years waiting for them to realise they’d got it wrong.

I kept getting in my own way. And for a long time, I didn’t understand why.

Then the external world confirmed what the internal voice had always suggested.

I left one role because the environment had become untenable. And then I was made redundant from the next one. I discovered a particular kind of pain I hadn’t anticipated: watching the world carry on without me, as if I hadn’t mattered quite as much as I’d thought. That wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just how things work sometimes. But it landed on top of everything I was already carrying – and it landed hard.

What I didn’t tell anyone – not my husband, not my friends, not the people I was trying to hold it together for – was what was happening underneath.

The shame of not being further ahead. Feeling scattered and overwhelmed when I was supposed to be capable. The imposter that had been there quietly my whole career, suddenly louder than everything else. The need to be a role model for my children while privately wondering if I was falling apart in front of them.

I carried all of that alone. In silence. For far longer than I needed to.

I eventually found my way through. And in doing so, I found my calling.

I went back to university in my thirties and earned my psychology degree – its own quiet act of proving the imposter wrong. I trained in hypnotherapy and qualified in Havening – a neuroscience-informed technique that works at the level of the amygdala, where threat responses are held and where lasting change actually happens. I combined thirty years of understanding how people and organisations work with the tools that finally shifted what therapy and willpower alone never could.

I built RIPPLE from what that experience cracked open in me.

What I understand now is that the ceiling most of my clients have been living beneath is not their character. It is the shape of something older – a pattern formed long before the career, long before the experiences that seemed to confirm it.

That pattern is not their personality. It is a response. And it is not a life sentence.

I don’t decide who my clients become. I work with them to remove what was never theirs in the first place. And I stand beside the person who emerges when that weight is finally gone.