Where the Real Work Begins: What Sits Underneath

Where the Real Work Begins

Because what sits underneath matters.

A couple of months ago, I submitted an abstract without thinking too much about it.

It was for the ISPCAN Congress 2026 (International Society for the Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect), being held in Melbourne later this year.

When the email came through, I remember reading it as a polite “thanks, but no thanks”… and it took a moment before I realised it had actually been accepted.

My abstract has been accepted for the ISPCAN Congress 2026.

It’s exciting - and if I’m being honest, still a little bit surreal.

But what feels more important than the acceptance itself is what the work represents.

Over time, much of my work has been shaped by sitting in spaces where there is a strong focus on what can be seen and measured - behaviour, compliance, outcomes.

And while those things matter, what sits underneath can often get missed… even though that’s where the real work begins.

The layers that don’t show up on checklists.
The histories people carry quietly.
The nervous systems that have learnt to survive, not feel safe.

You don’t get very far trying to “fix” what’s on the surface if those parts haven’t first been understood.

Becoming grew out of that understanding.

It’s a group program for mums who have come from hard places - women who are often navigating complex systems, carrying their own histories, and doing the best they can within systems that don’t always meet them where they are..

It’s not a program about teaching parenting strategies or correcting behaviour.

It’s about creating a space where it’s safe enough to slow down.

Safe enough to be seen.

And safe enough to begin making sense of themselves again, in their own time.

Because when that begins to shift, everything else starts to move with it.

There’s also something else that sits quietly underneath this work.

A deep respect for the women who have been brave enough to keep showing up - often in systems that don’t always meet them where they are.

The ones who have tried, and tried again.
Who have sat in rooms where things haven’t quite fit.
Who have carried more than most people will ever see.

They’ve been the driving force behind this - whether they realise it or not.

Not in a loud or visible way, but in the moments, the conversations, and the trust they’ve allowed along the way.

This work exists because of them.

Having this work accepted at ISPCAN tells me something important.

That there is space for approaches that don’t start with behaviour.

That there is recognition, even in broader professional settings, that what sits underneath matters.

For now, I’m still doing the same work I’ve always done.

Sitting with children, with families, with carers.
Working slowly, relationally, and often quietly.

But this moment has given me pause.

A reminder that the work happening in those everyday spaces might be reaching further than I first realised.