Every morning when I open my eyes, the first thing I feel is purpose. Not a loud, dramatic sense of purpose, but a steady, quiet pull that reminds me why I keep going, why I rise even on the days when the weight of life feels heavier than usual. My motivation comes from a blend of people I love, the promises I’ve made to myself, and the faith that has carried me through both triumph and heartbreak.
One of my greatest motivations is my family—my mum who has always been my anchor, my children who have grown into their own beautiful paths, and the loved ones who are no longer here but remain deeply alive in my heart. Each of them left a mark on me so profound that their love continues to shape the way I live. When I wake up in the morning, I carry their voices with me: voices that believed in me, encouraged me, and taught me to keep moving even when life felt unbearably heavy. Their absence hurts, but their memory motivates. I want to honour them—through the choices I make, the kindness I give, and the person I continue to grow into.
My daughter Lani and my son Logan also give me a reason to rise with intention. Watching them navigate their lives, finding their passions, and stepping into adulthood reminds me that I must lead by example. Their courage inspires mine and they remind me that showing up every day matters, even in the small ways.
But beyond family, I also wake up for myself. For the goals I’ve set—like building my empire, continuing my juicing journey, supporting my health, and nurturing my mission work and spiritual growth. I’ve come so far, especially in my faith. Returning to Church has breathed new life into my mornings. Now, I begin each day not just with tasks to complete, but with gratitude. Gratitude for God’s presence, for the peace He places in my heart, and for the chance to grow a little more each day. My mornings have become an invitation from Him: to reflect, to listen, and to become a better version of myself.
And yes, some days are hard. Some mornings I wake up with the familiar ache of grief, or the tiredness of a long week, or the heaviness of memories that still sting. But even then, I get up. Because I believe in hope. I believe in pushing forward. I believe that my story isn’t done yet, and every sunrise is a reminder that I still have chapters to write.
What motivates me every morning? Love. Faith. Purpose. And the deep desire to honour the people who shaped me, the God who guides me, and the woman I am still becoming.
What motivates you to get out of bed every morning?
