Rennie Holland
Mother. Creator. Seven years sober. Building a life that looks nothing like the one she thought she was heading for.
I can’t save you. But I can show you how I saved me.
I’m Rennie. I’m six and a half years sober, based in Sydney, raising three children, and building the thing you’re looking at.
High Net Woman began with a single reframe, the one that changed my life: the woman is the asset.
Not her job, not her partner, not her bank balance. Her. Self-worth as the foundation of net worth. Everything here is built on that one idea. But I should tell you how I got to it, because I did not arrive gently.
I grew up in a house that was warm and loud and full of music, until it wasn’t. When I was twelve, everything fractured. By the time I finished school I had been to seven of them, moved between parents, between states, between countries. I learned very young that the ground could disappear without warning, and I learned to manage that feeling the only way anyone ever showed me. I numbed it.
I started drinking at fourteen. For the next twenty years I drank the way you drink when you are trying to leave your own body. I was high-functioning. I worked, I built things, I looked fine. I was the fun one, the party girl. Inside, I was screaming, and I had no idea the screaming had a name, or that there was anything to be done about it, other than pour something on top.
Then I became a mother, and loving my children was the first clean thing I had ever felt. It was also the thing that finally broke the spell, because you cannot numb yourself to the bottom of a bottle every night and be the mother you can see, just there, slightly out of reach.
It got worse before it got better. I will spare you the full inventory. It is enough to say that I lost almost everything that mattered to me, including, for a while, myself.
"I got sober at thirty-four. It was the beginning of everything."
I got sober in a residential rehab in Thailand. A crying mess for the first week. And it was there that everything changed. I heard the words cognitive distortion and emotional regulation for the first time in my life. In one of those early sessions, someone asked me to name my values, and I realised I had never once been asked, never known I was allowed to choose. I had spent my whole life believing some people were simply broken and I was one of them. I learned, in that place, that I had simply never been taught. That the things I’d called character flaws were skills nobody had handed me. That all of it could be learned.
I came home and rebuilt everything, slowly, with my own two hands. I represented myself in a two-year custody battle and got my children back, without drinking through a second of it. I am still here. Still sober. Still becoming.
High Net Woman exists because the work that saved me is not in any twelve-step book, and I could not bear for it to stay locked inside one rehab in Thailand that most women will never get to. I make the things I wish someone had handed me earlier, practical, beautiful, honest. Not preachy. Never lectured at. Just one woman showing another exactly how she found her way home.
This is for the high-functioning woman who looks fine on the outside and is quietly coming undone on the inside. The one caught in the loop - stress, drink, regret, promise, repeat - who does not need to hit a rock bottom to know she wants more.
"Sobriety stopped feeling like something I was holding onto, and started feeling like the ground beneath everything beautiful in my life."
You are not behind. You are awake.
With love,
Rennie
I can’t save you. But I can show you, in detail, how I saved me. Start wherever you are ready.
THE PHILOSOPHY
What does it mean to be high net?
Not what you think. It has nothing to do with a number in a bank account, though Rennie believes fiercely that women deserve financial freedom and she is building toward hers, deliberately and without apology.
Being high net is about what you refuse to trade away. Your time. Your presence. Your clarity. Your mornings. The version of yourself that exists when you stop performing and start actually living.
It is the walk to the beach from a home in the trees. It is the solo trip to a city where no one knows your name. It is being forty-one and feeling, for the first time, like the woman you always suspected you could be.
It is luxury redefined. Not as a thing you acquire. As a life you choose.
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