When your brain feels like it has 47 tabs open…
Thoughts going in twelve directions at once. A mental list that never really seems to end. Things you know you need to do, but somehow still don't know where to start. Feeling overwhelmed by things that probably shouldn't feel that overwhelming. That constant sense that your brain is just... full.
There’s usually a reason.
And understanding that reason can change a lot.
A free training to help you understand the overwhelm - and what actually helps
In this short training, I'll walk you through what can be happening underneath that "my brain has 47 tabs open and I can hear every single one of them" feeling - things like stress, emotional load, executive functioning, nervous system activation, sensory input, expectations and decision fatigue, and just how much we often try to hold internally without realising it.
Then we get practical. I'll share some of the tools and strategies I actually use - in my own life, and with clients - to create a bit more space, clarity and calm when everything feels tangled.
No clinical therapy jargon. No telling you to buy another planner. And definitely no suggestion that you just need to try harder.
Just a chance to understand your brain a little better, and what might actually help it.
What’s actually going on underneath all those tabs?
Hi, I’m Catie
HI!
I think I've probably had about 47 tabs open for most of my life.
I was the outgoing kid; the talker, the one with a billion questions, the one who got told some version of "you could achieve so much if you'd just stop talking" more times than I can count. My brain was busy. I was curious about everything and everyone, and I connected deeply with people, but I also spent a lot of my childhood feeling like I was a bit too much.
One person who's always stayed with me was a teacher I connected with when I was younger. I couldn't tell you now what advice she actually gave me - what I remember is how it felt to talk to someone without being judged. Safe. Listened to. Genuinely understood. Looking back, I think that feeling has shaped more of my career than I ever gave it credit for.
MY STORYI always knew
I wanted to work with people
That led me into human services and social work. And like most new practitioners, I entered systems full of frameworks, assessments, forms, domains to cover and boxes to tick.
But I kept noticing the same thing. The best work almost never happened while I was ticking a box; it happened in the conversation in between. Sitting down with a child and meeting them where they were at. Building trust with a parent. Having an honest conversation with another professional. Taking the time to actually understand what was happening in someone's life before deciding what needed to happen next.
Relationship and connection first.
Everything else comes later.
One size really
doesn’t fit all.
Later in my career, I had the opportunity to work in an Aboriginal community-controlled organisation, in a space built around self-determination, community authority and putting decision-making back in the hands of the people who knew their own children and families best.
That experience shaped me more than almost anything else. It confirmed something I'd already believed instinctively for a long time - that people deserve ownership over their own story, transparency, and to feel genuinely heard, and that support works best with people rather than being done to them.
I learnt so much from working alongside people and leaders who placed enormous value on relationship, connection, truth-telling and genuinely putting people first. It also gave me permission to question some of the more traditional ways of working - to stop assuming something is better just because "that's how it's always been done," and to trust that practice can still be evidence-informed and professional without being rigid or clinical.
People already hold so much knowledge about themselves
One of the biggest things social work has taught me is that I'm not the expert on someone else's life. They are. My role is often just to help create the conditions where they can understand themselves a little more clearly; sometimes by asking a question they hadn't considered, sometimes by giving language to something they've felt for years but never known how to explain, sometimes by sharing a framework or a practical tool, and sometimes simply by being a safe person to say the thing out loud to.
Because when someone feels safe enough to get curious instead of defensive or ashamed, things start to shift. Instead of "what the hell is wrong with me?" we can start asking "I wonder why this happens?" and that's a very different place to begin.
And then I had to learn all of this about myself, too
As an adult, I moved away from my hometown, my family, my career and everything familiar. I became part of a new family, rebuilt my career, started my own business, and kept doing the thing I've always been unreasonably good at - going from zero to a hundred very, very fast. I could take on everything, work harder, do more, say yes, keep going. Until eventually I couldn't. Then I'd recover, slow down for a while, and eventually do it all over again.
Understanding my own ADHD and neurodivergence gave me a completely different lens on that pattern. For a long time I'd been trying to make my brain operate in ways that just weren't natural for it. Once I actually understood how it worked - what overwhelmed it, what helped it regulate, why some things were harder, where my strengths actually came from - something important happened: there was a lot more compassion.
Instead of "why can't I just do this like everyone else?" I started asking "what does my brain actually need here?" That change in language matters. And I see versions of it constantly in the people I work with.
The person who thinks they’re lazy
The person who knows exactly what they "should" be doing and still can't make themselves do it. The person who overthinks everything. The person who goes from completely fine to completely overwhelmed over something that seems tiny from the outside. The person who says "it wasn't even that bad, I shouldn't still feel like this." The person holding everyone else together while quietly running on empty. The person whose brain has 47 tabs open and no idea which one is making all the noise.
Very rarely do I meet someone and think you just need to try harder.
Usually, there's a reason. And when we start to understand that reason, judgement can soften, understanding can grow, and we can start working with ourselves instead of constantly fighting against ourselves.
I eventually realized I wanted to create a space where I could work differently
A space where relationship genuinely comes first, and where therapy doesn't always have to look like sitting opposite each other inside four walls. Sometimes we walk beside the ocean. Sometimes we meet online. Sometimes the conversation feels so natural you barely notice there's a therapeutic framework sitting underneath it.
You don't need the right words. You don't need to know exactly what you want to talk about. You don't need to arrive with a perfectly defined "problem," and you definitely don't have to wait until you're at breaking point. You can just arrive as you are; because some of the most meaningful work I've seen begins the moment someone finally has a space where they feel safe enough to say "this is what's actually going on," and feel genuinely heard.
I think meaningful change often starts with a few simple things…
Understanding: being able to make sense of what's happening underneath your thoughts, feelings and behaviours. Not just what am I doing, but why. Understanding creates context, and context makes room for compassion.
Safety: somewhere you don't need to perform. You don't need to have it all figured out, minimize what you're experiencing, or worry about being judged for saying the thing you haven't said out loud before. When people feel emotionally safe, they can be honest, and honesty gives us somewhere real to start.
Curiosity: replacing "what's wrong with me?" with "I wonder what's happening here?" Curiosity gives us room to explore instead of criticizing. It helps us notice patterns, understand needs, connect the dots, and find something that actually fits the person in front of us, rather than forcing them into somebody else's box.
Compassion: often this is what comes out the other side - the ability to look back at yourself, past and present, with a little more understanding. To recognize that maybe you weren't failing. Maybe your brain was overloaded, or you were protecting yourself, or you simply didn't have the tools yet. And maybe you don't need to be quite so hard on yourself.
Which brings us back to those 47 tabs…
If your mind currently feels like one giant scribble.
If you're carrying too much internally and can't quite work out why you feel so overwhelmed.
Or you just want to understand yourself a little better - I made this free training for you.
When Your Brain Feels Like It Has 47 Tabs Open
In around 20 minutes, I'll help you understand some of the things that can contribute to mental overload, and give you practical ways to start untangling what's happening - so instead of trying to hold every thought, task, feeling and expectation in your head at once, you can start creating a bit more space, a bit more clarity, and hopefully a bit more compassion for the person trying to manage all those tabs in the first place.
Ready to close a few tabs?
Pop your details below and I’ll send you the free training straight to your inbox.
A few kind words…
A little reassurance from people I’ve had the privilege of working alongside.
“After just the first session, my daughter felt comfortable, understood and genuinely heard. Catie has a rare ability to connect with people in a way that makes them feel safe, respected and valued.”
- parent of a counselling client
“Catie made me feel comfortable and able to share parts of myself. She has taught me so much and helped shape the leader I want to be moving forward.”
- Lisa