Ep 132: She Kept Going Until She Couldn’t

By Charlotte Cummings | Feel Better Podcast

 

When the Wheels Actually Fall Off: Amy Luttrell on Trauma, Burnout, and Building a Life You Actually Like

There is a version of this story that gets told a lot.

Woman works hard, woman burns out, woman finds wellness, woman recovers. Neat. Packaged. Probably with a sunrise somewhere in the thumbnail.

Amy Luttrell's version is not that story.

It is messier, darker, and more honest than most people are prepared to be. And that is exactly why it is worth telling.

Amy is a business coach who works with ambitious women in leadership and entrepreneurship. She is warm, direct, and clearly at ease in her own skin. But the version of Amy sitting across from me in this conversation is someone who was built, and rebuilt, through a stretch of loss that would have floored most people.

This is that story.

THE BACKSTORY

Amy left school at the end of Year 11, trained in spa and beauty therapies, and at 23 opened her first wellness centre in Margaret River, Western Australia. Her philosophy from the start was about combining movement and talk therapies, creating spaces where people could come and genuinely feel better.

By her early thirties she had moved back to New Zealand, grown her wellness centre from a team of four to thirteen, and was in what felt like an upward spiral. She had a son, was 30 weeks pregnant with her second child, and felt like life was finally building into something.

Then, early one morning, her brother called.

Their father had died suddenly of a heart attack. He was 61.

Amy fell to the floor. She remembers thinking: I don't know how I'm going to get up.

She got up. She flew to Auckland with her son and husband, entered a six-day tangi that was both devastating and deeply beautiful, and then came home and kept working. Because that is what she did. That is what high functioning women do.

Eleven months later, a police officer knocked on her door. Her stepfather had been killed in a road accident. Her mother, miraculously, survived, but would spend the next two years recovering from serious injuries. Sophia, Amy's second child, was eight months old. Max was four.

Amy kept working.

She knew she needed to slow down. She just did not know how. The weight of responsibility she felt for her team, her clients, her family, her business, it kept her moving long past the point where her body and mind were managing.

Then her daughter got sick and ended up in hospital. Amy lay on the hospital bed beside her and felt, in her own words, like she needed to be admitted too.

That was the moment.

Within weeks she was sitting with her accountant and her lawyer, exiting the business partnership she had built.

THE LAG

When I asked Amy what she made of the fact that it took one more crisis, another full step beyond two devastating losses, to finally make her stop, she was thoughtful.

She said she had always held a certain perspective about change. That you see what needs to shift and you shift it. But when it was happening to her, she could not change. She was too depleted. Her mind, which she describes as her greatest asset and her Achilles heel, just kept her going. It was her body that finally said enough.

This is something I see constantly in the women I work with. Trauma does not always produce an immediate pivot. There is often a lag, a period where we are still functioning, still delivering, still showing up, while quietly falling apart on the inside. The body holds the score long before we are ready to look at the board.

For Amy, what finally created movement was not a moment of clarity. It was exhaustion meeting crisis meeting a body that had simply reached its limit.

THE SHAME NO ONE TALKS ABOUT

One of the things Amy spoke about with real honesty was shame.

She had spent years working in the wellness industry, surrounded by practitioners, therapists, coaches. She knew the language of wellbeing. She had tools. And when everything fell apart, none of them worked.

She would try to go to yoga and end up in a panic. She would try to meditate and feel destabilised. A massage could re-traumatise her. She felt broken. And because of who she believed herself to be, the wellbeing person, the capable mother, the business owner holding it together, the brokenness came loaded with shame.

She also felt isolated. Her husband was struggling. Her family were navigating their own grief. The people around her often did not know what to do with the weight of what she was carrying. So she carried it quietly, the way capable women learn to do.

What helped were the few people who kept showing up anyway. A close friend who had been through her own hard things and could see what was happening. A business partner who stayed in her corner. A therapist for her and her husband, even when there was so much going on she did not know where to start.

Sometimes support does not look like someone with the perfect words. Sometimes it looks like someone who keeps calling.

WHAT HAD TO CHANGE

The biggest shift Amy describes is stopping being so hard on herself.

She had to let go of identities she had built her sense of self around. The mother who goes to music groups. The mother who bakes. The high functioning woman who has a 5am biohacking routine and a clean inbox and a wellness practice that works. She had to grieve the version of early motherhood she did not get with her second child because she was too deep in loss to access it.

And she had to find a different relationship with her body. One built on relentless compassion rather than performance. Not a one-off decision but a daily choosing. What can I do for myself today given what my body can actually manage right now?

She mentions baby steps, specifically the Olivia Dean song, and laughs a little. But she means it literally. Can I just get out of bed this morning? Can I get into the shower and feel the hot water on my skin? That was the work. That was the practice.

She was honest too about a period when she had intrusive thoughts about not wanting to be here. She did not share it with anyone until later. But she describes a part of herself, quiet but persistent, that kept saying you can do this, get out of bed, one step. She listened to that part.

HOW IT SPED HER UP

Five years on, Amy is earning more than she ever has, working less than she ever has, and coaching women in business from a place that is grounded in real lived experience.

She talks about life design, the idea that business, when built intentionally, can be structured to give you income, flexibility, time, and contribution, all at once. She takes clients to Melbourne and Auckland for in-person immersions, not just for strategy but to give women permission to receive, to be in beautiful environments, to want things out loud.

Her work now centres on helping ambitious women be honest about what they actually want, not the version they think they are supposed to want, or the version that sounds appropriately humble and purpose-led, but the real desire underneath. The number. The lifestyle. The kind of life they are genuinely trying to build.

She says that for a lot of women she works with, especially millennials, there are deeply systemic beliefs about money, about ambition, about what women are allowed to want and say and claim. Her work is about making those conversations normal.

WHAT SHE WANTS YOU TO KNOW

If you are in a hard season right now, Amy's message is not a tidy list of steps. It is more honest than that.

She says: I know how hard it feels. I know what it is like when the mountain looks enormous. So do not think about climbing it. Think about the next step. Just the next one.

She also says this: you are probably not seeing yourself clearly right now. You are likely more capable than you think, and more depleted than you are admitting. Both things can be true at the same time.

And she says: find the right people. Whether that is a coach, a therapist, a friend who actually gets it, a school committee, a board, a podcast, whatever room or relationship stretches you in the right direction. You do not have to navigate this alone, and you do not have to pay for support to access it. But you do have to be willing to reach out for it.

The version of Amy who fell to the floor the morning her brother called could not have imagined where she would end up. She is glad she kept taking baby steps to find out.

If this conversation resonated, you can find more about Amy and her work online. And if you are at a point where you are wondering what needs to shift in your own life, I would love to help you think that through. Head to charlottecummings.nz to find out how we can work together.


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Ep 131: When Church Hurts: Spiritual Abuse Explained