Cre8ing Balance

Cre8ing Balance Wellbeing Coach, Author & Speaker ✨️

Wellbeing is a JOURNEY not a DESTINATION Kia ora! I'm Chenin and I am passionate about supporting your WELLBEING.

You can talk to me about ANYTHING and everything is CONFIDENTIAL. Learn tools for personal EMPOWERMENT to manage anxiety and depression or be guided at your own pace through grief or loss. I have a wide range of experience and knowledge including 8 years of Ambulance service, a Diploma in Sports Science & Management, TeReo Maori certifications, and a long list of others which gives me a holistic view of people's situations and circumstances. While these certifications are great, my personal journey through grief, loss, anxiety, depression & PTSD are my greatest achievements. Never underestimate the power of a conversation....it can lead to great transformations.

10km may seem a small walk today after last week's 24km training walk, but that 10km includes 2 times up Jacobs Ladder i...
20/12/2025

10km may seem a small walk today after last week's 24km training walk, but that 10km includes 2 times up Jacobs Ladder in Dunedin...286 steps! 572 total. Feeling the burn 🔥

Every little bit counts in preparation for the Masters games in Dunedin, 2026 and then the Mototapu in March.

Loving these workouts ❤️

This time of year often comes with a familiar pressure.New year. New goals. New habits. New you.But what if you don’t ac...
20/12/2025

This time of year often comes with a familiar pressure.

New year. New goals. New habits. New you.

But what if you don’t actually need a fresh start?

What if you need space to pause, reflect, and listen to yourself a little more honestly?

So many people I work with aren’t broken or lost — they’re just tired. Tired of pushing. Tired of overriding themselves. Tired of chasing a version of life that doesn’t quite fit.

The work isn’t about becoming someone else.

It’s about coming home to yourself.
This is the heart of You Are Your Purpose — a year-long commitment to yourself, not to fixing, but to awareness, alignment, and choice.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop striving and start listening.🤍

19/12/2025

New course starting January 2026 ✨️

There are 12 sleeps left until 2026.And instead of resolutions, goals, or promises to become someone new…I’m thinking ab...
19/12/2025

There are 12 sleeps left until 2026.
And instead of resolutions, goals, or promises to become someone new…
I’m thinking about something different this year.

What if 2026 wasn’t about fixing yourself?

What if it was about choosing yourself — consistently, gently, and with intention?

Over the past years, I’ve gathered so much learning through lived experience, study, and the people I work with. And I’ve felt a quiet nudge to create something that brings it all together.

In January, I’m opening a year-long online course called You Are Your Purpose.

It’s not a quick reset or a 30-day challenge. It’s a 52-week commitment to yourself — emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

Over the next 12 days, I’ll be sharing more about this journey, what it’s really about, and why it feels so important.

If 2026 is calling you to slow down, listen inward, and live with more alignment — this might be for you✨️

Full Circle on the Motatapu: Lessons from My First MarathonTwo years ago, I walked the Motatapu Trail Marathon — my very...
09/12/2025

Full Circle on the Motatapu: Lessons from My First Marathon

Two years ago, I walked the Motatapu Trail Marathon — my very first marathon. Even though I wasn’t running, it was no stroll in the park. There were time limits to beat, hills that went on forever, and moments where I questioned my sanity more than once. But that event changed me. It taught me things about myself — emotionally, physically, spiritually — that I could never have learned anywhere else.

I went into that first Motatapu with enthusiasm… and a bit of naïve optimism. I had no idea how much there was to learn about fueling, hydration, pacing, or recovery. I thought electrolytes were the answer to everything (spoiler alert: they’re not). I didn’t eat enough, I didn’t drink enough water, and I definitely didn’t understand how important recovery nutrition was afterwards. Yet somehow, I made it through — blistered, sore, but proud.

Fast forward to now — I’m training again for the Motatapu Trail Marathon in March 2025. This time, though, I’m approaching it differently. I’m paying attention to my body, learning how to fuel properly, and finding that balance between electrolytes, food, and water. I’m training smarter, not just harder.

But here’s the twist — this year, I won’t be at the start line as a participant. I’ll be there as a volunteer. When I crossed that finish line two years ago, I promised myself that if I ever came back, I’d give back. Because volunteers are the heartbeat of events like this — the ones who cheer, encourage, hand out cups of water, and keep everyone going when the hills get tough.

So this year, it’s not about the medal or the miles. It’s about contribution, community, and gratitude. It’s about closing the loop and saying thank you — to the trail, to the people, and to the version of me who took that first step into the unknown two years ago.

The Motatapu has a way of reminding you that every journey matters — whether you’re walking, running, or handing out oranges at an aid station.

Here’s to the quiet achievers — the ones who show up, help out, give generously, and expect nothing in return.The people...
08/12/2025

Here’s to the quiet achievers — the ones who show up, help out, give generously, and expect nothing in return.

The people who work hard because it’s who they are… not because they’re chasing applause. The ones who fly under the radar but make a bigger impact than they realise.

Quiet doesn’t mean small. Quiet often means powerful.

If this is you, keep being you. You’re making waves, even if you don’t hear the splash. ✨

There’s something pretty special about standing on the sidelines of a kids’ sports program and watching them choose thei...
06/12/2025

There’s something pretty special about standing on the sidelines of a kids’ sports program and watching them choose their own path. Not the one we nudged, hinted at, or gently tried to resurrect from our own “almosts” — but the one they picked because something inside them lit up.

As parents, it can be surprisingly easy to slip into the trap of installing our dreams, our missed chances, or our old ambitions onto our children. We want so badly for them to have what we didn’t, or to be protected from the bumps we faced, that we forget the magic happens when they choose. Their sport, their instrument, their challenge, their gift.

Our job? It’s actually simpler and far more beautiful than we sometimes make it:
We’re here to support them. Not sculpt them.

I read something from Bear Grylls recently that stuck with me. He talked about how the kids who sweep up every trophy, title, badge, or school honour don’t automatically win at life. Those accolades are lovely in the moment, but they don’t follow you into adulthood the way passion, grit, kindness, and heart do. What lives inside a young person — that fire, that curiosity, that willingness to try again — that’s the stuff that carries them.

And as I watch our daughter out on the golf course playing in a women’s tournament today — entirely her choice — that message hits home. She doesn’t want to compete against boys her age; she wants to test herself against women and girls because it feels more aligned with who she is and how she wants to grow. She’s not doing it for a ranking or a future scholarship. She’s doing it because she loves it.

We don’t expect her to win. We don’t need her to win. She already wins by loving the game.

All I ever ask her after a tournament is, “What was your favourite hole today?” Because at twelve years old, her childhood is far more important than any podium. Sports are supposed to bring joy, confidence, and memories — not pressure to become the best in the world before she’s even finished growing.

Golf is a lifelong game. One she could play until the day she’s old and grey and still laughing her way down the fairway. There’s no rush. There’s no finish line she needs to sprint toward.

This morning I found myself sitting in a dentist’s waiting room — the kind of place where time slows down, fluorescent l...
02/12/2025

This morning I found myself sitting in a dentist’s waiting room — the kind of place where time slows down, fluorescent lights buzz just a little too loudly, and your mind starts wandering into deeper territory than expected.

Our daughter is having a couple of teeth removed before getting braces next year. As we arrived, I felt that old familiar tension creep into my chest — because my own experience with wisdom teeth was, well… not great. I was awake the whole time, it was painful, and the memory has stayed with me far longer than the swelling did.

My husband, on the other hand, was sedated for his. He practically floated through it like he’d been at a wellness retreat. So he’s the one sitting beside her today, calm and grounded — the energy she needs.

And here’s the honest bit: I wanted to be in that room with her. That instinct to be right beside her, holding her hand, whispering reassurance… it’s strong. But it’s not about me. It’s about her. And right now, what she needs most is someone whose heartbeat won’t give away their anxiety.

Kids are incredibly intuitive. They don’t just hear our words — they feel our breath, our posture, the history we carry in our bodies. If I’d sat next to her with all my old dental trauma sitting quietly under the surface, she would have felt it. Not because I wanted to pass it on… but because fear travels without needing permission.

So I made the choice to stay in the waiting room. Not out of avoidance, but out of love. Out of awareness. Out of the understanding that my fear is mine — not hers — and she deserves an experience uncoloured by my past.

And that’s what struck me this morning:
How many of our children’s fears are inherited rather than born?

Sometimes breaking a cycle doesn’t look dramatic. It looks like stepping aside. It looks like letting someone calmer step in. It looks like trusting that our children can have a different experience than we did.

Maybe this is what healing really is — choosing not to hand over what we’ve carried. Allowing our kids to write their own story. And letting their courage soften the edges of our old memories too.

Sounds Journeys....Hard to put into words.This was my second time at Sikas event in Queenstown and it was just as memora...
02/12/2025

Sounds Journeys....

Hard to put into words.

This was my second time at Sikas event in Queenstown and it was just as memorable as the first.

Calming, soothing, flowy, magical, ancient and vibrational are just some of the words I can describe it.

My family accompanied me this time which made it even more special.

If your looking for a way to heal or process emotions or just for the pure joy, try sound journeys and check out Sika when he is in your area. You will be left smiling with your heart ❤️ full.

https://sikamusic.com/

This morning, while I was out walking the dog, I came across something you definitely don’t see every day — a man pullin...
30/11/2025

This morning, while I was out walking the dog, I came across something you definitely don’t see every day — a man pulling a tyre behind him, moving with purpose and two walking poles in hand. I smiled and said, “Good morning,” and then added, “I can see you’re training for something… what is it?”

He told me he’s preparing for a race in Sweden in March — a sled-pulling event — and since we’re deep in New Zealand summer right now, the tyre is his best stand-in for snow. And honestly? I just thought, how cool is that?

Here’s this man — easily in his 50s or 60s — out there doing the work for something that clearly matters to him. Not chasing a medal. Not chasing recognition. Just embracing a challenge that makes him feel alive.

It struck a chord because I’m on my own training path too. I’m getting ready for the Masters Games in January and February, and then volunteering as the tail-walker for the Motatapu 42km event in March. None of this is about winning. It’s simply because moving my body with intention feels good. Because working toward something gives me focus. Because there’s joy in showing up to a challenge, even when no one sees the behind-the-scenes effort.

This morning, it felt like the two of us were part of the same quiet club: people who train because it adds something meaningful to their life. People who enjoy the process more than the outcome. People who choose movement and challenge because it lights a spark inside them.

There’s something genuinely beautiful about watching someone commit to themselves — especially in a world so fixated on results. That man with his tyre reminded me that you don’t have to be the youngest, the strongest, or the fastest. You just need a reason that gets you out the door with a smile.

Here’s to doing things for the joy of it.
Here’s to the challenges that shape us.
Here’s to the tyre-pullers, the dog-walkers, the tail-walkers, and everyone training for something that matters purely because it matters to them.

That’s where the magic truly is.

Book  #22 – 2025 📚After attending Mike McRoberts’ session at the Queenstown Writers Festival, I was excited to dive into...
30/11/2025

Book #22 – 2025 📚

After attending Mike McRoberts’ session at the Queenstown Writers Festival, I was excited to dive into this book. What stood out to me most was the depth of cultural context and the richness of the te reo Māori journey he shares throughout its pages.

Partway through, I remembered he’d spoken about his documentary Kia Ora, Good Morning, so I decided to watch that as well — and I absolutely loved it. The documentary beautifully captures many of the themes woven through the book.

His journey is inspiring, healing, and a reminder of the power of reconnecting with language and identity.

Friendships take effort from both sides. For years I found myself doing all the running — organising the catch-ups, chec...
28/11/2025

Friendships take effort from both sides. For years I found myself doing all the running — organising the catch-ups, checking in, keeping things alive. And when I stopped? Some friendships simply faded.

It used to hurt, but now I see it differently. We grow at different paces. Sometimes one person is evolving and the other is standing still, and the distance just happens.

Letting a friendship go doesn’t mean it failed. It might just mean you’re on different tracks for now — and that’s okay. Some people circle back. Some don’t. What matters is choosing relationships that meet you with the same heart and intention you give.

Keep moving where the energy is mutual. 💛


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7 Coventry Crescent
Queenstown
9304

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Wednesday 10am - 2pm

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