From Grief to Growth: Why I Created NIMM
- Georgina Brown (hershe)
- Jul 14
- 5 min read
I didn’t set out to build a whole new framework. I set out to survive.
To survive grief so complex it bent time.
To survive peri-menopause without a map.
To survive the dull ache of realising that, after nearly 30 years in EDI, the same old tools were being repackaged, again, as if they might finally fix the future.
Spoiler alert: they won’t.
But something else might.
When the Ground Shifts
When my mum died, everything went quiet. Not just around me, within me. I lost my biggest cheerleader, my centre of gravity, and, for a while, the belief that I had anything left in the tank.
It wasn’t a tidy grief. My dad had died before her, and infertility had already rewritten the chapters I thought my life would contain. Then came another layer: a blood test that revealed I was absorbing no oestrogen at all. Suddenly, the brain fog, the emotional flatness, the overwhelming exhaustion — it all made sense.
This wasn’t just grief. It was a full-body neurochemical crash. A perfect storm of hormonal depletion, emotional trauma, and cognitive overload.
For a while, everything felt muted. I struggled to find words. I couldn’t feel joy. It was like watching life from underwater.
But here’s where the science came alive.
What I was experiencing was neuroplasticity in action. My brain was doing what it’s designed to do: adapting to deep change. Not erasing the pain, but slowly building new pathways to live alongside it.
That realisation was a turning point. I wasn’t just surviving — I was rewiring.
It wasn’t neat. It wasn’t fast. It was MESSY. But over time, I became more focused, more emotionally resilient, more intentional.
I’d spent decades fascinated by neuroscience. But now, it was personal. I had felt its power in my own brain.
And I knew — if it could help me grow through that, it could help organisations transform too.
That was the spark that became NIMM. A model built not just from theory, but lived experience, shaped by the brain’s own blueprint for change.
Frustrated, Fired-Up… and Fed Up
Professionally, I was working for an organisation that was creating a “new” EDI framework. Except it wasn’t new. It was the same old circuit board, reshuffled. Well-meaning, and being crafted by lovely individuals. But nothing that I believed would break the cycle of fear, culture wars, or tick-box fatigue.
EDI had become risk-managed and sanitised. Not visionary.
Where was the innovation?
Where was the heart?
Where was the curiosity, the energy, the joy?
I cut my teeth in EDI working for a change management company alongside giants, Dame Jocelyn Barrow, Lord Herman Ouseley, Linda Bellos, Ansel Wong, to name a few, people who didn’t just talk about change, they were the change. I was incredibly fortunate to be mentored by Dame Jocelyn Barrow, a true visionary who showed me that lasting change takes courage, resilience, tenacity, and a whole lot of repetition accompanied with a huge smile, a cup of tea and almond croissant (her favourite). Not admin!
Vision wasn’t optional, it was the air we breathed. I was being shaped daily by their boldness, so where was that energy now?
The Need Was Evident
I was having coaching conversations with clients and members who were hungry, no... STARVING, for something different. They told me:
“When you speak to us, we feel energised again. Like this work matters. Like it’s possible.”
That kept ringing in my head.
Because what they were really saying was: we’re burned out from binaries.
Good/bad.
Woke/not woke.
Inclusion as judgement, not joy.
Fear masquerading as progress.
We needed something new. Something that:
Interrupts the autopilot of policy-over-people
Moves beyond “awareness” to systemic transformation
Uses neuroscience, not just narrative
Restores connection, not just compliance
The Door That Wouldn’t Open
I offered the idea, the first version of what would become NIMM, to my employer.
But they were in financial survival mode. The timing and appetite wasn’t right. The vision didn't align. And there was fear of something new.
I couldn’t unknow what I knew.
I couldn’t go back to working in systems where the amygdala ran the show, endlessly scanning for threat, clinging to the comfort of “how we’ve always done it.”
I didn’t want to mask anymore. Not professionally, not personally.
I wanted prefrontal cortex energy, reflective, future-focused, creative leadership.
I wanted innovation that connected people, not pitted them against each other.
So… I left.
And I built NIMM.
Enter: The NeuroInclusive Maturity Model (NIMM)
NIMM is the framework I needed when I was burned out.
It’s the model I wished I had when I was stuck in grief fog and peri-menopause chaos and couldn’t tell what was me and what was my neurotransmitters.
It’s for leaders who know the current system isn’t working, but don’t know what else to try.
It’s for inclusion practitioners who are tired of being the empathy police.
It’s for organisations ready to stop performative culture change and start transformational culture growth.
Built on five domains, it gives organisations a way to embed inclusion from the inside out:
Neuro (Mind) — Understanding bias, safety, cognition, and energy
Identity (Self) — Valuing complexity, lived experience, and authenticity
Meaning (Culture) — Embedding values in habits, language, and shared stories
Mutuality (Relationships) — Shifting from hierarchy to co-regulation
Momentum (Systems) — Designing policies, structures, and feedback loops that evolve because the author has and continues to do so.
It’s trauma-informed. Neurodiversity-affirming. Emotionally literate.
It’s science-based but deeply human.
And it’s designed not to be another one-size-fits-all checklist or audit.
But a flexible, developmental path to conscious, inclusive practice.
Why Now?
Because fear has dominated the inclusion conversation for too long.
Because society is fraying at the edges, and inclusion shouldn’t feel like just another battlefield.
Because if my mum’s death taught me anything, it’s that none of us has time to waste on things that don’t matter and don't add value.
I don’t want to be 80 and regret never giving this my all. I don’t want to leave this earth without trying to build something that helps people feel safe, seen, and excited to be different, together.
So, here we are.
Wise choice or reckless leap? Time will tell.
But I do know this: nothing changes until someone’s brave enough to plant the seed.
And this?
This is mine.
Curious? Find out more about NIMM
P.S. If your organisation is ready to evolve, not just react, and build inclusion that’s grounded in both brains and bravery, then NIMM was made for you. And maybe, just maybe, you’re the soil it’s been waiting for.
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