About - Sheena Hemens

About Sheena

I’m not standing here because I have it all figured out. I’m standing here because I’ve been where you might be right now — and I found a way through.

Where it starts

My story doesn’t begin in 2023 — but that’s when the grenades went off.

It began with parents who had travelled from Sri Lanka to London at a time when London was not a welcoming place. In 1967 when I was born they made a devastating choice. They loved us so much they stripped away their own language, their customs, their religion — to help us fit in. My mother was an elocution teacher. I spoke perfectly. I dressed like everyone else. But I still didn’t belong.

And I was still bullied. In London first. Then Oxford too. Because you cannot assimilate your skin.

I grew up British. But I grew up never quite knowing who I fully was. The question of identity, of belonging, of what was taken before I was old enough to choose it, it is one I’m only now, in my late fifties, beginning to answer.

The life I built

I moved to New Zealand, raised three children, and spent over two decades building a career across communications, marketing, business leadership, and entrepreneurship. I understand how organisations work, how leaders think, and what it takes to build something from nothing — because I’ve done it.

The last thing I built was Maison de Crepe — eight years of my life, poured into every detail. Covid took it in April 2023.

I thought that was the worst thing that would happen that year.

I was wrong.

2023

Two months after closing the restaurant, while I was at a networking event in Christchurch, I got the call that every parent dreads. My daughter Lauren had been hit and killed by a ute on a dark road in Auckland on her way to work. She was 27 years old.

In the months that followed I lost my relationship, my home, and my income. In six months, I lost everything, like dominoes.

But, I am still here.

I survived because of the people who held me up when I had nothing. And because I discovered something I had been building without knowing it — resilience. The deep kind – hidden in my core. The kind that was already there, waiting for the moment I would need it most. Just like your resilience is there – within you.

Lauren’s death broke me. But it also showed me that I could survive the unsurvivable. And, that I could help others do the same.

On Lauren

Lauren Elizabeth Hemens, aka Lolly, was funny, bold, and completely herself. She wore what she wanted, said what she thought, and went after what she loved. She was a fashion graduate and a makeup artist who had just been promoted at work and had fallen in love and was following her dreams.

“Lauren’s last text to me said “I love you.”
But I just replied with a heart emoji because I was too busy.“

I will never be too busy again. That is her gift to me. And it is why one of the things I say in every talk is this: put down your phone and tell someone you love them. Because you never know when it will be your last chance.

Lauren’s death taught me so much – about myself, about my identity and about life. Life is indeed short and I want to live it to the full, for myself and for Lauren.

Where I am now

Today I speak, I write, and I share what I’ve learned — about grief, about resilience, about belonging, and about what it means to lose everything, find out what you’re actually made of and rebuild from scratch. Not matter what age you are.

I’m not on the other side of it. I don’t believe there is another side. It is a journey without a fixed destination — a pathway with twists and u-turns, “why me” roadblocks and high-speed epiphanies. Grief and reinvention happen at the same time. You don’t get to finish one before the other starts. You are rebuilding the plane while it’s crashing — and some days the best you can manage is not falling apart in the supermarket.

So I am still in it. Rebuilding. Experiencing deep personal growth and learning so much along the way that I want to share.

If this is you — if you are wondering whether you are going to make it — I can tell you: you are.

I promise.

If you’d like me to speak at your event or work with your organisation — I’d love to hear from you.

Get IN Touch