There are moments in life when you know you are not quite ready.
And then there are moments when you realise that perhaps being ready was never the point.
This week gave me one of those moments.
On Wednesday, I played my first-ever round of golf at the SAPS Golf Day in Modimolle.
Just four lessons in.
I remember wondering beforehand whether I was ready. Whether four lessons were enough. Whether I would actually know what I was doing once I stepped onto the course.
Then I remembered one of my favourite quotes from Richard Branson:
“If somebody offers you an amazing opportunity, but you are not sure you can do it, say yes – then learn how to do it later!”
So, I said yes.
And I showed up.
Let me tell you… the beginning was a little messy.
There were moments when I questioned the decision. But somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying about whether I was doing it perfectly and simply started playing.
I warmed up.
I got better.
I hit the ball.
And then I chased it.
Again.
And again.
And somehow, that felt like more than golf.
It felt like a reflection of where I am in this season of my life.
Sometimes we wait to feel completely prepared before we step into something new. We convince ourselves that we need one more course, one more conversation, one more year of experience, one more sign that we are ready.
But perhaps growth doesn’t always work that way.
Perhaps sometimes you learn by stepping onto the course.
You learn by taking the shot.
You learn by missing.
You learn by trying again.
You learn by chasing the ball down the fairway and refusing to let one bad shot define the entire game.
And at the end of the day, something rather beautiful happened.
I won a prize. 🏆
Was it because I was the best golfer on the course?
Absolutely not.
But I think the universe was having a little conversation with me.
A reminder.
Keep showing up.
Keep taking the shot.
Keep learning.
Keep moving.
And keep winning.
Because sometimes the win is the prize.
Sometimes the win is the opportunity.
Sometimes the win is simply having the courage to say yes.
And sometimes, what looks like a loss in the moment becomes the lesson you needed all along.
So, I am carrying this one with me:
If it’s not a win, it’s a lesson.
And either way, I am still moving forward.
Still learning.
Still becoming.
Still showing up.
And, after everything life has thrown my way, perhaps the most important thing I can say is this:
Not because you have failed. Not because you have lost your way. But because life sometimes has a way of testing just how committed you are to the person you say you are becoming.
This was one of those weeks.
Emotionally draining would probably be the simplest way to describe it.
I celebrated another career milestone, and while milestones are supposed to be moments of celebration, reflection and gratitude, this one also came with a sobering realisation:
Not everyone will celebrate your growth.
And, if I am honest, that hurts.
It hurts to realise that while you are busy doing the work, showing up, contributing, growing and trying to become better, there may be people who don’t necessarily wish you well.
Perhaps that is one of the more difficult realities of growth.
The further you move along your journey, the more visible you become.
And visibility doesn’t always attract applause.
Sometimes it attracts comparison. Sometimes it attracts resistance. Sometimes it simply reminds people of where they are in their own journey.
But this week taught me something important:
I cannot allow someone else’s perception of my growth to become a detour in my journey.
I have spent enough years learning who I am, what I bring to the table and what I am capable of.
At this stage of my life and career, I simply cannot afford to give too much of my emotional energy to things I cannot control.
I don’t want to spend my days trying to understand everyone’s intentions.
I don’t want to constantly question whether everyone around me is genuinely rooting for me.
I don’t want to make myself smaller to make someone else comfortable.
And I certainly don’t want to allow circumstances around me to determine the direction of my life.
So, I am choosing something different.
I am choosing to stay the course.
To remain focused on the bigger picture.
To continue positioning myself for the opportunities that align with where I am going.
To keep learning.
To keep showing up.
To keep building.
Because there are still things I am working towards.
Rooms I haven’t entered yet.
Conversations I haven’t had yet.
Opportunities I haven’t discovered yet.
And dreams that are still taking shape.
I don’t need to announce them before they happen.
I simply need to keep preparing for them.
And perhaps that is another lesson in this season: not everything needs to be shared while it is still becoming.
Some things need to be nurtured quietly.
Some plans need room to breathe.
Some doors need to open before we announce that we are walking through them.
For now, I am content knowing that there is more ahead.
Because there is a lot happening around me.
There are things at home that aren’t looking the way I would like them to.
There are uncertainties I don’t have answers to yet.
There are situations that have challenged me emotionally.
But none of those things have the authority to cancel what is happening within me.
My growth continues.
My ambition continues.
My purpose continues.
My vision continues.
My journey to 50 continues.
And perhaps that is what this chapter is really about.
Staying the course.
Because challenges are inevitable.
People will disappoint you.
Plans will change.
Things won’t always make sense.
Some people will misunderstand you.
Some will underestimate you.
And sometimes, you may even find yourself questioning your own next step.
But none of that means you have to change your destination.
You may have to change your route.
You may have to pause.
You may have to rest.
You may have to rethink your strategy.
You may even have to leave certain things behind.
But you don’t have to abandon the vision.
This season is teaching me that resilience isn’t always about fighting.
Sometimes resilience is simply saying:
“I see what is happening. I acknowledge that it hurts. And I am still moving forward.”
That is where I am.
I am not pretending everything is perfect.
It isn’t.
But I refuse to let imperfect circumstances create an imperfect vision of my future.
I refuse to allow other people’s opinions to become my identity.
I refuse to allow difficult seasons to convince me that I am not capable of more.
I refuse to allow uncertainty to erase everything I am building.
And I refuse to let fear make decisions that courage should be making.
I am learning to keep some things close to my heart while I work on them.
To let the results speak when the time is right.
To trust that what is meant for me will find me.
And to remember that sometimes the most powerful move is not announcing your next move at all.
And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of Chapter 05:
Stay the course.
You don’t have to have everything figured out.
You don’t have to know exactly how the story ends.
You don’t have to silence every naysayer.
You don’t have to prove yourself to everyone.
You just need to remember where you’re going.
Because sometimes the greatest act of self-belief is simply refusing to turn around.
So, here’s to the next chapter.
To courage.
To quiet preparation.
To new rooms.
To new possibilities.
To trusting the process.
To protecting the vision while it is still becoming.
To becoming the woman who no longer allows distractions to determine her direction.
And just like that, Women’s Month comes to an end.
August has been another reminder that life doesn’t always unfold according to plan. There have been twists, turns, unexpected moments, lessons, laughter, uncertainty and those little moments that make you stop and say, “Okay… I see you, God. I see what you’re doing.”
But today was different.
Today was quiet.
Today was simple.
And yet, today reminded me of something I am learning as I journey towards 50:
I am learning how to receive.
Earlier today, I decided to work from a café. Nothing particularly special about the decision. I was simply minding my business, getting some work done and enjoying my own company.
Then Amanda walked in with her Dad.
What a beautiful surprise.
We had a few minutes to catch up, and although our time together was brief, there was something so special about that unexpected reunion. Sometimes you don’t need hours with someone for an encounter to mean something. Sometimes a few minutes are enough to remind you of connection, friendship and the people who form part of your story.
Amanda eventually left.
I carried on with my day.
I finished what I was doing, packed up my things and asked for the bill.
And then came the surprise:
“It’s been taken care of.”
Wait… what?
Amanda had quietly paid my bill before she left.
I hadn’t asked.
I hadn’t expected it.
I wasn’t even aware she was doing it.
She simply decided to do something kind for me.
And for some reason, that little gesture touched me deeply.
Perhaps because I am so accustomed to being the one who gives.
The one who remembers.
The one who checks in.
The one who makes things happen.
The one who says, “I’ve got you.”
But today, someone else said it to me without actually saying the words.
“I’ve got you.”
And I received it.
Later, I went to have Sugar washed.
My Sugar.
The car I named after my Dad.
Another ordinary part of an ordinary day.
Except this time, another stranger decided to wash Sugar for me for free.
Again…
I hadn’t asked.
I wasn’t expecting it.
It simply happened.
And suddenly I found myself reflecting on how beautifully the day had unfolded.
Two people.
Two completely different circumstances.
Two unexpected acts of kindness.
And one very big reminder.
Sometimes we are so busy being a blessing to others that we forget that we are allowed to be blessed too.
Maybe that is what this chapter of #Project50 is really about.
Receiving.
Receiving kindness without immediately wondering what I need to give back.
Receiving generosity without feeling guilty.
Receiving love without questioning whether I deserve it.
Receiving friendship.
Receiving grace.
Receiving help.
Receiving the unexpected.
Receiving the beautiful things that arrive without an invoice attached to them.
As I journey towards 50, I am realising that growth isn’t always about becoming stronger, doing more, achieving more or carrying more.
Sometimes growth is learning to put the load down.
Sometimes growth is allowing someone else to carry something for you.
Sometimes growth is simply saying:
“Thank you.”
And meaning it.
Today, as I close out Women’s Month, I am choosing to remember these two moments.
Not because someone paid for my coffee or because someone washed my car.
But because both moments reminded me that kindness can find you when you’re not looking for it.
And perhaps that is the beautiful surprise of this season of my life.
I don’t have to orchestrate every blessing.
I don’t have to work for every beautiful thing.
I don’t have to be in control of every outcome.
Sometimes I can simply live.
Show up.
Do my thing.
Mind my business.
And allow life to surprise me.
So, August…
Thank you.
Thank you for the lessons.
Thank you for the unexpected.
Thank you for the people.
Thank you for the reminders.
And most importantly, thank you for teaching me that receiving is also a form of grace.
As I step into September and continue this beautiful journey towards 50, I am carrying a new intention with me:
I will continue to give generously, but I will also learn to receive graciously.
Because perhaps the woman I am becoming doesn’t just know how to pour into others.
She also knows when to let someone pour into her.
And that, my friends, is Chapter 04 of #Project50.
The Chapter of Receiving.
Here’s to 50; and to everything I’m still learning along the way. ❤️
I’m not sure I would describe the last few weeks as simply “fun”. They have been busy, stretching, surprising, emotional and, in many ways, incredibly affirming.
But what I have appreciated most are the moments when I finally sit down, breathe and reflect on what has actually happened.
Because when I do, I realise something:
The tides are turning.
And perhaps I’m finally starting to notice.
Tuesday, 18 August 2026
I had my first stint as a panelist at the Public Sector Leaders Summit 2026 #PSL2026.
And let me be honest.
I was nervous.
Very nervous.
I had second thoughts.
That little voice in my head started asking all the familiar questions:
Am I ready?
Do I really belong on that stage?
What if I don’t have the answers?
What if I don’t say the right thing?
For a moment, I could have allowed the nerves to win.
But I didn’t.
I walked onto that stage.
And then I did what I’ve spent years learning to do.
I showed up.
And you know what?
I owned it.
Not perfectly.
Not without nerves.
But I did it.
And when I walked off that stage, I had one of those moments where you almost have to laugh at yourself.
Because why was I so afraid?
I’ve spent years building experience, learning, leading, communicating, making mistakes, figuring things out and finding my voice.
Perhaps the woman who was nervous wasn’t lacking in capability.
Perhaps she was simply standing at the edge of another version of herself.
And she had to decide whether she was willing to step forward.
She was.
Then Limpopo happened.
Just days later, I travelled to Limpopo for the 20th PSI Conference, where Boxfusion sponsored the networking session.
Another event.
Another room.
Another opportunity to simply do my job.
Except this time, I was afforded the opportunity to say a few words on behalf of Boxfusion.
And again, I found myself standing there thinking…
Is this really me?
It almost felt like an out-of-body experience.
Not because I didn’t know what I was doing.
But because I could suddenly see myself from the outside.
A woman who once questioned whether she was good enough.
A woman who has spent years working behind the scenes.
A woman who has built a career in marketing and communications.
A woman who has learned to navigate rooms, people, strategy, pressure and uncertainty.
And now…
She’s standing in those rooms.
She’s speaking.
She’s representing her organisation.
She’s contributing to conversations.
She’s being trusted with the microphone.
She’s becoming visible.
And maybe that’s what has been so powerful about this season of my life.
I’m not necessarily becoming someone new.
I’m finally seeing the person I’ve already become.
Showing up
There is something I’ve been learning about courage.
It isn’t the absence of fear.
Sometimes courage is simply saying:
“I’m nervous, but I’m going anyway.”
That has been my lesson these past few weeks.
The nerves can come.
The self-doubt can come.
The imposter syndrome can have its little conversation.
But I don’t have to give any of them the final say.
I can still walk onto the stage.
I can still take the microphone.
I can still contribute.
I can still learn.
I can still grow.
And I can still be surprised by myself.
That, perhaps, is one of the unexpected gifts of approaching 50.
You begin to realise that you have spent decades becoming.
And every now and then, life gives you a glimpse of the woman all those years were preparing.
So here I am.
Still on this journey.
Still figuring things out.
Still learning.
Still occasionally terrified.
Still navigating life, career, relationships, wellness and all the beautiful chaos that comes with being human.
But I’m showing up.
And I’m beginning to trust myself a little more.
#Project50 was supposed to start on 1 July.
It didn’t.
Life had other plans.
But perhaps this is exactly how it was supposed to unfold.
Because if the first chapter was about coming back, and the second was about recognising my expertise, perhaps this chapter is about finding the courage to be seen.
The journey to 50 isn’t about becoming perfect.
It’s about becoming more fully myself.
One first at a time.
One stage at a time.
One uncomfortable moment at a time.
And apparently…
one microphone at a time. 🎤
#Project50 | Chapter 03
The Stage I Almost Didn’t Step Onto
Sometimes the biggest evidence of growth is simply having the courage to show up when every part of you is wondering whether you belong.
On Friday, 31 July 2026, I had one of those moments that makes you stop and take stock of your life.
I was invited to serve as an External Panellist for the PGDip students at AFDA.
And honestly?
It was humbling.
Not because I didn’t believe I belonged in that room.
But because, somewhere between listening to the students, engaging with their work and contributing my perspective, I had this very quiet realisation:
I’ve come a long way.
There was a time when I was the person sitting on the other side of the table.
The one learning.
The one asking questions.
The one looking to people with more experience for guidance, perspective and validation.
And then, suddenly, I was sitting on the other side.
Being asked to assess.
To challenge.
To question.
To contribute.
To bring my own experience and expertise into the room.
And that feeling stayed with me.
I have grown into an expert.
There.
I said it.
And perhaps that is one of the most uncomfortable things about growth.
We spend so much time working towards becoming better that we sometimes forget to pause and acknowledge when we’ve actually become.
We keep chasing the next qualification.
The next role.
The next achievement.
The next milestone.
The next version of ourselves.
Until someone gives us an opportunity that makes us realise:
Wait… I actually know some things.
Not everything.
Definitely not.
I’m still learning. I hope I always will be.
But I have accumulated something over the years that cannot be taught in a textbook alone.
Experience.
I’ve sat in the rooms.
I’ve made the mistakes.
I’ve celebrated the wins.
I’ve navigated difficult conversations.
I’ve led teams.
I’ve built strategies.
I’ve watched industries change.
I’ve reinvented myself.
I’ve learned.
I’ve unlearned.
I’ve started again.
And somewhere along the way, without even noticing it, experience became expertise.
That realisation was probably the most humbling part of Friday.
Because becoming an expert doesn’t mean you stop learning.
If anything, it makes you more aware of how much there still is to learn.
But it does mean that you can now sit at the table and contribute something meaningful to the conversation.
And perhaps that is what this chapter of my life is really asking me to do.
Own what I know.
Own the years.
Own the lessons.
Own the experience.
And, importantly, share it.
Because if I’ve learned anything from my career, it’s that knowledge becomes even more valuable when you use it to help someone else find their way.
So, to the students I had the privilege of engaging with at AFDA: thank you.
You probably don’t realise it, but you gave me something too.
You gave me a moment to pause and recognise my own growth.
And as I continue this journey towards 50, I’m realising that perhaps the biggest milestone isn’t the number itself.
It’s being able to look back and say:
“Look how far I’ve come.”
This is #Project50.
A year of discovering, learning, reflecting, becoming and, perhaps most importantly, finally giving myself permission to acknowledge the woman I’ve already become.
The woman who now sometimes finds herself on the other side of the table.
The plan was simple: start the journey towards June 2027, when I turn 50, and intentionally document the year leading up to this milestone.
I had the ideas. I had the tracker. I had the vision.
And then… life happened.
I found myself slipping into that place I call survival mode.
The mode I despise.
The mode where you’re not really living in the moment. You’re just getting through the day, ticking things off, solving the next problem, getting to tomorrow and hoping that tomorrow will feel a little lighter.
Survival mode takes so much from you.
It takes your curiosity.
Your creativity.
Your excitement.
Sometimes even your ability to remember why you started something in the first place.
And somewhere between the plans, the responsibilities and the general busyness of life, I almost forgot about #Project50.
Almost.
Because here I am.
A day after Women’s Day, and I can feel something shifting.
I’m getting my mojo back.
And perhaps that is exactly what Project 50 needed.
Not a perfect beginning.
A real one.
So… what has happened while I was “away”?
Well, for starters…
I had my first golf lesson last week. 🏌🏽♀️
Yes.
Golf.
Me.
And you know what?
I loved it.
There was something about being completely new at something that reminded me how important it is to remain curious.
At 49, approaching 50, I don’t want to only become better at the things I already know.
I want to learn new things.
Try things.
Be terrible at things.
Laugh at myself.
Improve.
Try again.
And maybe, just maybe, discover parts of myself I haven’t met yet.
That, for me, is what #Project50 is really going to be about.
Not simply counting down to a birthday.
But deliberately creating a year of becoming.
There will be travel.
There will be celebrations.
There will be career milestones.
There will be wellness goals.
There will be lessons.
There will be adventures.
There will probably be a few spectacularly bad golf shots.
And there will definitely be conversations about peri-menopause because, ladies, if I’m going through this chapter, I refuse to pretend it isn’t happening.
In fact, I’m making myself a little promise:
I’m going to keep one up on peri-menopause at all times.
Because if we’re going to talk about turning 50, we need to talk about the real stuff too.
The body changes.
The identity shifts.
The confidence.
The uncertainty.
The humour.
The learning to listen to yourself again.
All of it.
So no, #Project50 did not start on 1 July.
It starts now.
Not because the calendar says so.
But because I’m ready to show up again.
And perhaps that’s the first lesson this journey has already taught me:
You don’t have to start perfectly. You just have to start again.
Welcome to #Project50.
The journey to 50 has officially resumed.
And this time, I’m bringing my mojo with me. ✨🏌🏽♀️
Work in progress. My favorite saying, yet the truth is, I don’t always live by it. I say it for the sake of saying it. What I do in reality is chase perfection, not progress. This stops here and now.
October is Mental Health Month, and I’ve been intentional about my well-being, especially as I embrace yet another phase of life: peri-menopause. One of those things women go through with no control… and control is something I struggle with! This chapter has humbled me: the weight gain has been intense, making a return to road running more challenging. The mood swings? Once again, beyond my control.
Yet, despite all of this, life continues to bless me with its greatest moments. I completed my tenure as my Toastmasters club’s secretary; something that will always remain special, because I finished what I started. In August, I held a mic and shared my life journey as a speaker… something I’ve looked forward to and hopefully the first of many.
Just over a month ago, I celebrated three years at my current employer, doing what I love. Another milestone: my youngest had her matric dance last Saturday. As she walked down the stairs to join our loved ones who came to see her off, I thanked my Heavenly Father for His unwavering love and support through parenthood. I remain deeply grateful.
And it was in that moment I realized something profound: when I chase progress, not perfection everything falls into place. Life becomes richer, more vibrant, and more fulfilling. This is the chapter I want to live fully, with grace, patience, and intention.
I appreciate the opportunity to continue the journey from “Embracing a New Chapter: Finding Myself at 46” into the uncharted territories of Me vs Me. It seems my path has taken unexpected turns, and I’d like to share how I faced the challenges of welcoming 2024.
Waves of Change: As the calendar turned to a new year, I did so with a heavy heart. The dawn of 2024 marked not only the beginning but also a poignant farewell – bidding adieu to what felt like a lifetime partnership. The circumstances of distance compelled us to part ways, adding another layer of pain to the fresh wound of losing my beloved Mom. All of this played out against the backdrop of a demanding role at work, where showing up and not dropping the ball became a daily struggle.
Me in the Midst of Turmoil: In this tumultuous sea of emotions, I found myself at the crossroads of Me vs Me. The me that longs for stability, the comfort of familiar companionship, collides with the evolving me, grappling with the complexities of grief, heartbreak, and professional responsibilities.
The Internal Battle: The battle within intensifies. The me that yearns for the past, for the presence of loved ones, clashes with the me that’s striving to move forward, embracing resilience and growth. It’s a continuous negotiation, a dance between the echoes of yesterday and the uncertain footsteps of tomorrow.
Faith as an Anchor: In the midst of this internal struggle, I find solace in being a daughter of the loving God. Isaiah 41:10 resonates deeply within me – a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, I am not alone. Grasping tightly at His right hand, I draw strength, courage, and the unwavering belief that this too shall pass.
Me: Working My Way Up: I am in the process of working my way up – emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Each day presents a new set of challenges, demanding everything in me to face it head-on. It’s a journey of self-discovery, self-compassion, and the relentless pursuit of a new dawn.
So here I am, navigating the Me vs Me saga amidst life’s complexities. The heavy heart of farewells, the demanding role at work, and the echoes of loss create a symphony of challenges. Yet, as I confront this internal turmoil, I find strength in the belief that I am not merely defined by the circumstances, but by how I navigate through them. This is the ongoing story of Me vs Me – a narrative of resilience, growth, and the unwavering faith that guides me through the shadows into the light of a new day.
At the age of almost 47, I’ve found myself grappling with a fundamental question, one spurred by the profound loss of my parents. Who I am I? Their departure from this world hit me in ways I never anticipated. In the span of just two years, I bid farewell to the individuals who brought me into this world – my first loves. Suddenly, the constants in my life were gone, leaving me to navigate a world without their guidance.
Now, standing at the threshold of a new chapter, I am faced with the reality of being an orphan while also shouldering the responsibilities of parenthood. It’s an arduous journey, marked by the yearning for a simple call or chat with my parents, the desire to seek their advice, or even share a gossip session. The realization that these moments are forever out of reach is a painful truth I grapple with daily.
Amidst this emotional turmoil, I find solace in the fact that life continues to unfold. My career is blossoming, but the joy is tinged with the absence of my parents to witness these milestones. Joining Toastmasters, 4th Dimension, a decision aligned with my aspirations to elevate the “Mpho Hlalele” brand, has been a transformative experience. Stepping out of my comfort zone, I delivered my ice breaker on the anniversary of my mother’s passing, dedicating it to her memory. Titled “From Firstborn to Wise Leader: My Journey of Empathy and Resilience,” it was a candid exploration of the impact of being a firstborn.
Reflecting on this, I contemplate whether my journey should extend beyond Toastmasters and into the realm of authorship. Being a firstborn has profoundly shaped my identity, and sharing my experiences may resonate with others.
As I embrace this new chapter, I recognize it as neither a return to the drawing board nor a mere continuation of the past. My parents, in their wisdom, bestowed upon me the gift of resilience, forming a cornerstone of my foundation. I am determined to leverage this resilience and other lessons learned to forge ahead.
The present beckons, and I am determined to live in it fully. Amidst the challenges and uncertainties, I plan to return to running, amplify my voice through more blogging, and, above all, savor the richness of the present moment.
This is who I am now—resilient, evolving, and ready to embrace the journey ahead.
Day 23 and counting. The journey continues.. The struggle gets real every day.. with this being said I am acknowledging every day that I need to work on my faith. Only when my faith is strong am I able to withstand whatever struggle life throws my way. This also requires me to go back to the basics, work on that faith that moved mountains before. The faith that made it possible for me to be here.
I call on my Heavenly Father to instill in me, the unmovable faith 🙏the faith powered by Him. The unshakeable faith.
