My Story
I’ve always been drawn to the quiet truths beneath the surface — the invisible threads that shape our lives long before we have the words to name them.
For years, I worked in senior roles in finance — commercial director, finance business partner, financial director. I held three degrees, spoke several languages, led projects across markets, won innovation and pioneering awards. It was a life that looked right from the outside.
But the truth is, I’d lost touch with myself long before I ever stepped into a boardroom.
My real journey began when I lost everything. One thing after another — until there was nothing left of the life I had built. And in that stripped-back silence, I was full of questions I didn’t know how to answer.
And then, one day, I was hit by a car.
It sounds dramatic, but it wasn’t the accident itself — it was what I saw in that moment. My deepest fear was realising that my life had gone unnoticed. Not just by others — but by me. That I had been alive and yet absent from my own life.
That was the moment something shifted.
I made a promise: if I ever find my way through this, I will make sure that no woman who crosses my path ever feels as lost and alone as I did.
And I’ve kept that promise. Every single day.
Every day, I walk alongside people as they navigate change — some of it visible, much of it invisible. I coach those in transition — career shifts, life upheaval, relocation, identity questions, or the quieter callings that nudge us when something deep within begins to stir. I hold space for what is raw, true, and still unfolding.
I’m a certified executive and systemic coach with over a thousand hours of coaching experience. But more than that, I share what I’ve lived — I walk my walk. Everything I offer has been tested through real life, in real moments of pain, uncertainty, and rebuilding.
A big part of my work is dedicated to women who’ve experienced the unthinkable — women who’ve lost their footing, their hope, their sense of who they are. I’ve been there. I recognise the silent questions, the quiet grief, the fierce will to survive. I volunteer in pro bono and non-profit projects that support these women, and others too — those who find themselves at a crossroads, starting over, unsure how to begin again. It is an honour and a responsibility I don’t take lightly.
I also teach drawing. A deeply transformative method that allows people to work with their subconscious through line, shape, and intention. Neurographica changed my own life. It gave me access to parts of myself I couldn’t reach with words. I now teach it with deep reverence for its power to reconnect, rewire, and restore.
Outside of work, I move — because movement taught me discipline, strength, and self-trust. High-altitude mountaineering, ultra-marathon running, horse riding — are just a few things that I do. That physical resilience became the bedrock for mental and emotional strength too.
And then there’s beauty. Art. Stillness. I read over a hundred books a year — not just for knowledge, but because words have always felt like home. I adore ballet — the elegance, the devotion, the quiet strength in every line. These aren’t hobbies. They’ve shaped me just as much as the mountains. They’ve taught me about grace, nuance, and the courage it takes to create something beautiful — even in the hardest seasons of life.
I’ve rebuilt my life from scratch in a new country, without knowing anyone. I left everything behind — including my corporate identity — and stepped into the unknown with no map, no answers, only the quiet pull of something truer.
There’s no one label that captures what I do. But what I care about most is this: that people feel seen. That they find the courage to listen to the quiet pull inside them. That they stop waiting for permission or the “right time” to become who they already are.
I believe — no, I know — that everything is possible. Not in a fairytale way, but in the grounded, tested way that comes from living it. We all have a thread inside us — the one that knows. When we learn to trust it, life unfolds in ways we couldn’t have planned, but were always meant for.
And in the end, maybe that’s all we need — someone to remind us of what we already are. Seen. Capable. Ready. Already home.
Through Their Eyes
It is rare to encounter someone as quietly extraordinary as Galya.
We first met in an online meditation group, where she facilitated the morning sessions. Her voice, her reflections, and the stillness she carried had a grounding, almost alchemical effect. Even through a screen, her presence felt deeply restorative — calm, wise, and real.
Over time, we developed a meaningful friendship, built on mutual respect and emotional transparency. Galya is someone I trust without hesitation. She holds space with exceptional presence, warmth, and non-judgment — a rare ability that makes you feel safe to bring forward the truth of who you are.
What distinguishes Galya is the way she integrates intuitive insight with grounded, thoughtful guidance. She doesn’t impose answers. Instead, she asks precise, reflective questions that lead you back to your own inner clarity. Her guidance is subtle but powerful and always attuned.
Galya’s personal commitment to transformation is profound. She doesn’t just engage in self-inquiry — she embodies it. Her inner work is not conceptual; it’s lived. She has the courage to sit with discomfort, to look honestly where many would turn away, and to do so with grace. This level of emotional integrity and spiritual maturity is uncommon.
She also lives her life with boldness and authenticity — with genuine alignment to her values and inner truth. It is something I admire deeply.
I hold a great deal of love and respect for Galya, not only for the work she does, but for the way she lives— with courage, consistency, and heart.
And yet, Galya is not only deep — she is also creative, playful, and nurturing. Her presence brings lightness as well as depth, and she knows how to hold complexity with grace.
I often wish she would allow herself to be more visible, because people like Galya are rare. I hope she shares more of herself and her work with the world because the impact she can make is life changing.
Galya is someone who lives with more depth and integrity than most people are even aware exists. She doesn’t perform her goodness — it’s in her bones. She doesn’t posture. She offers. She wonders. She holds.
She holds a tenderness that would break most people. She’s wildly creative, and ridiculously humble about it. She’s funny, too, in this brilliant, sideways way. She burns. Fiercely. Steadily. Alive.
She’s been braver than most people ever have to be, and instead of medals, she gives herself pressure. More shoulds. But what she offers can’t be measured that way.
She listens, deeply, to others, to life, to the silence within. And when she reflects something back, it shines. That’s not just talent. That’s grace. That’s gift. And she is one.
Being around Galya brings a quiet kind of joy — the kind that doesn’t demand anything, just gently opens space. With her, I found myself speaking of things I hadn’t shared with anyone. Not because I’d been unhappy before, but because something in her presence allowed it — welcomed it without question.
Our conversations always felt special. Not just deep, but unique. Like something that leaves a trace.
Even now, when I look back, I don’t see a lack in the life I had before. But I do feel incredibly lucky to have met her — to be seen in that way, to be met with such love and freedom.
Whatever may come, I’ll carry the joy she reflects, and the quiet wish to show up for her, just as she has for so many.
Galya is the kind of woman who could change your whole direction in life without you even realising it at first. Because she doesn’t preach. She doesn’t sell. She simply lives something. And you find yourself wanting to live like that too.