I'd just finished my Masters in WHS, and I remember the feeling clearly: it's now or never.

I had a new qualification and a real drive to take what I'd been doing inside HomeCare out to more care providers—more families, more support workers, more people who needed it. So I did. From a desk in the boys' toy room at home, that's where Movementum began.

 

I had no idea how much the industry was about to change. NDIS hadn't rolled out yet. If someone had told me what the next ten years held, I'm not sure I would have believed them.

 

What I remember most, though, isn't the fear—it's the freedom. The freedom to experiment. Not in a reckless sense, in the best sense. Try a different way of training, a different approach to documentation, a different piece of equipment. Get feedback. Adapt. Try again. No layers to move through, no barriers to trialling a better way of doing something. If it needed to change to actually fit the person in front of me, it changed. That's still exactly how we work today.

If someone from 2016 walked into Movementum now, I think what would surprise them most is that I can still talk forever about how our sector can be better supported—and that after ten years of a genuinely exhausting, constantly shifting industry, that drive hasn't dimmed.

If anything, it's grown. NDIS has thrown a lot at all of us. It hasn't touched the flame.

 

The language has changed enormously—funding periods, AT justifications, plan nominees, all of it barely existed when I started. What's changed most, though, isn't the vocabulary. It's the fight. We've always had to clinically justify our recommendations. What's grown beyond measure is how hard we now have to advocate for what's reasonable and necessary to actually be recognised as such.

 

So here's what hasn't moved, not an inch, in ten years: my drive, my purpose, my passion. And the need for what we provide—that hasn't shrunk either. If anything, it keeps growing.

I could tell you about outcomes, but that's never really been the heart of it.

The heart of it is a husband who can keep caring for his wife at home. An adult child who can keep their dad where he wants to be, safely, every day, without their own body paying the price for it. A care provider who knows they're keeping their staff safe, while still being able to deliver a reliable, quality care service.

 

That's what we're here for—quality care, delivered where people want it, by people who feel safe enough to keep showing up and doing it tomorrow, and the day after that. It sounds simple. It's often completely out of reach without the right support. That's the gap we exist to close, and we are not done yet.

 

Families have taught me things training never could. That love is powerful enough to fire up the desire to care for someone, day in and day out. And that the same love can quietly mask just how much it's costing someone— physically, emotionally. When you take the time to actually understand a family's story, you stop trying to take something away from what they do and start strengthening it instead. That partnership is a beautiful place to work from, and it's shaped everything about how we train and how we assess.

I've always said our team is small and mighty.

Caring, values-led people who believe in this the way I do—and there is nothing like working alongside others toward something you all believe in. It energises me in a way that solo work never could. Everyone who's been part of Movementum's story, past and present, has left something behind in how we work today, and I hold that with real gratitude.

 

And behind all of it—my family. Running a business this consuming from home asks a lot of the people who live it alongside you. They've been patient, steady, and endlessly understanding through all of it, and I don't take that for granted for a single day.

We're not slowing down. The next chapter is about reach—building training opportunities for therapists, and partnering more deeply with care providers so what we teach doesn't stay in the training room but actually reshapes how their teams operate day to day.

And there's real momentum building in our family-focused training, which has been quietly close to my heart for a long time.

 

Ten years in, the tools have changed, the sector has changed, and the language has changed more times than I can count. What hasn't changed is the reason I started, and it's the same reason we keep going: safe, dignified, quality care, for the people receiving it and the people providing it. That's it. That's always been it.

 

Here's to the next ten.