My Story
I decided early that I was going to become a lawyer.
At 19, I left Estonia for Britain with two suitcases, very little money, no family or connections there, and a fairly uncomplicated plan: become one.
I didn’t know what a barrister was, let alone what becoming one would involve.
I thought lawyers stood up for people. That was enough for me.
There was no Plan B.
And for many years, that determination served me very well.
When I arrived in Britain, I went to Liverpool first.
I spoke some English, but understanding law in English turned out to be another matter.At the same time, I needed to support myself.
So I worked customer-serving jobs during the day and studied — predominantly at night.
A few years in, having secured some top grades, I decided it was time to take on London.
Not long after, I was a young lawyer in London, representing a government department in the First-tier Tribunal.
From there, I moved through several legal roles, worked in private practice and completed the Bar course part-time while working full-time.
Becoming a barrister with a five-month-old baby
If anyone is contemplating combining pupillage with having a tiny human on their hands — I cannot personally recommend the timing.
Operating on very little sleep and learning to be a mother, whilst also learning to be a barrister was, to put it mildly, difficult.
But I completed my pupillage and secured tenancy. I made it.
This wasn’t a career I had fallen into. I organised much of my young adult life around achieving it.
And I loved significant parts of it.
I spent years questioning witnesses, delivering submissions and presenting arguments before judges, clients, opponents and public inquiry audiences.
Those years have shaped the way I think and communicate.
For a long time, the mentality of ‘no plan B’ had served me well. It took me from very little to a career that someone from my background wasn’t supposed to have access to.
The same ‘push through’ mentality that had brought me so far was becoming less useful when the questions were no longer about how to achieve something, but whether I was prepared to carry on paying what it was costing me.
Within a relatively short period, I left the country I had called home for some 15 years, stepped away from a career I had spent over a decade building, and went through a crisis in my personal life.
Suddenly I found myself crossing borders with a couple of suitcases — once again.
Big decisions can be right and still feel brutal.
You can leave something without deciding it was terrible. You can even leave something you love.
Leaving required me to question all the things I had previously treated as fixed.
What did success mean to me now? How much of what I was protecting was genuinely important to me — and how much was simply familiar?
Today I bring my personal and professional experience to my work.
My coaching and training practice draws together my legal background, experience of demanding professional environments, and a long-standing curiosity about why human beings think, behave and make the choices we do.
My years at the Bar taught me to listen to what is not being said and use words as a tool.
My experience outside the law has given me a rather rich perspective on ambition, identity, uncertainty and change.
I understand the anxiety that can accompany high-stakes decisions, the fear of vulnerability, imposter syndrome, and both the pressures and rewards of a successful career.
I work particularly well with lawyers, leaders and other accomplished professionals who are used to being the capable one in the room.