Phone Rings. It's Your GP.
TL;DR
- One imagined phone call — "you’ve got cancer" — was enough to end nearly 50 years of living a life fallen into by default.
- The change came from refusing to play small: no more self-editing, no more waiting for permission, no more assuming everyone else’s perspective was more valid.
- In under a year: 45+ international keynotes, podcasts and articles — not by becoming someone else, but by stopping the editing.
- The biggest lie: that playing small keeps you safe. It doesn’t. It just keeps you hidden.
What would you do if the phone rang and the news was bad?
Amanda asked herself that exact question in January 2025 — and decided she was no longer available for a life she’d accidentally built. Within a year she had delivered more than 45 international keynotes, podcast interviews and articles, not by becoming someone else, but by stopping editing herself.
Phone rings. It’s your GP. “You’ve got cancer. The diagnosis isn’t good.” What do you do?
I asked myself that exact question in January 2025.
And because I was p***** off (not only at how I imagine hearing this would feel, but at the thought I’d spent nearly 50 years living a life I’d simply fallen into - doing what seemed ‘right’, what seemed expected, what seemed safe...) I decided I was no longer available for a life I'd accidentally built!
I would become a keynote speaker!
At the time, I was Global Mental Health Project Lead and AU/NZ Mental Health Ambassador. I also took on the additional role of NSW Frontline State Manager.
In whatever spare time I had left, I built the framework, developed the keynotes, created the content, learned the industry, and figured out what I wanted to say - and stand behind.
The decision came from deciding to no longer play small, to stop over-riding myself, stop waiting for permission, to stop assuming everyone else's perspective was more valid than mine, and to stop believing the people who told me, ‘you can't say that’, and ‘you can't do that’.
In that year (or less, depending on how you measure it), I’ve delivered more than 45 international keynotes, podcast interviews, and articles. My speaker’s agent now handles my outreach. I’ve learned from some of the best in the industry. I’ve had conversations I never imagined I’d be in, and I’ve been invited to speak in London, Paris, Orlando (next week), Singapore, and across Australia. My work has reached rooms I didn’t even know existed a year ago.
The interesting part is that none of it happened because I became someone else. It happened because I just stopped editing myself.
People think visibility is standing on a stage. It is, and it isn't. Sure, you have 1000 eyeballs on you, but visibility is standing behind your perspective when you know others will challenge it. It's backing your own thinking. It's allowing yourself to be seen fully for who you are, maybe even before you'd feel ready.
"The biggest lie I ever believed was that playing small kept me safe. It didn't. It just kept me hidden."
Four years ago, I had a TIA. It affected my cognition. It showed me something simple: the cost of staying hidden is not neutral. It costs opportunities, experiences, and relationships. It costs the version of life that might have existed if you had trusted yourself sooner.
The work I do now is built around one idea: People are more capable than we allow ourselves to be.
We just need to catch the moment we know what we think but don’t say, the moment we know what we want but don’t pursue, the moment we shrink to fit a version of ourselves that feels safer to us (or others).
That moment may seem small at the time, but repeat it a thousand times, and it becomes your life. And sometimes changing your life is no more dramatic than deciding you’re no longer available for that pattern.