“All the good men are gone. All the good women are trapped.”

This was a comment made by a beautiful gentleman I had the pleasure of spending a few hours with the other day. 

Of course it made me think. 

And it made me wonder. If all the good men are gone, and all the good women are trapped, doesn’t that mean that all the good men have trapped the good women? I don’t know…

Mind you, Robbie Williams sang words to a similar effect. 

“All the best women are married, all the handsome men are gay…”

Same same really. 

So this lovely mans name is Jean-Claude. He’s a 60-something year old French Astrologer. 

I met him on my recent trip to Byron Bay. He’s a friend of my Aunties. 

On the last day I was in Byron, a group of us went out to lunch. 

Now I am very taken by chivalry. And nobody does chivalry better than European men. 

When we arrived at the restaurant, the two gentleman that were dining with us would not sit down until we did. Would not order until we did. Would not take a sip of their wine until we did. 

When I met with Jean-Claude last week, he greeted me warmly and affectionately with a kiss on each cheek. He held the elevator door open for me, and allowed me to walk in first. He paid for my coffee, and told me to go and sit whilst he ordered for the both of us. 

Simple gestures that had me so enamoured. 

I’ve never hidden the fact that I am old fashioned. 

I love to be treated like a woman. And most women do. 

Throughout my travels over the years, I have always loved it when I’ve been helped by the opposite sex. It makes me feel like the feminine woman I am. 

In New York City I had a random gentleman carry my luggage for me in the subway. On my recent trip to Thailand we had some young guys help us with our luggage onto a ferry. Men surrendering their seat for me on public transport in the US. Holding doors open for me. Allowing you to walk in front of them with an “after you”.

I think it’s nice when men assume the role of men. When they are kind and helpful and gentlemanly. 

My father, who is a perfect gentleman, was discussing this with me the other day. 

He said he’s often met with strange looks if he does try to be chivalrous and hold doors open and the like for women. 

He says that he’s made to feel as though he’s done something wrong. And it makes him not want to do it as often. 

So to the women out there that are giving these funny looks? You’re ruining it for the rest of us. Just say thank you! Sometimes people are just genuinely being polite. And it’s nice to be nice.

Anyway, back to the astrologer. 

So I met with Jean-Claude for a reading. Having to give him my date, and time of birth, he uses this special method to work out your natal chart. 

I am a Gemini. The whimsical free-spirit. The free thinker. Charming. Highly communicative. Quick-witted. Forever young.

With Sagittarius rising. The world traveller. The conversationalist. The philosopher. 

And my moon is in Cancer. Making me intuitive, and deeply emotional. 

Explains a lot I guess. 

I was born with Saturn at a hard angle to some planet whose name escapes me. Which means that until my 30’s, relationships are going to be difficult. 

I have travel in my charts, but not in the generic “Club Med” way. 

I am deeply moved by the arts.

I am spiritual, and inquisitive. Easily distracted, and tend towards a religion of solitude at times. 

I am light-hearted, but run very deep. 

I get hurt easily, and go into my shell. 

And then came some words of warning. 

“You need to be careful. You are pure of heart, and you are beautiful. You have a light about you, and what do you think that light does? It draws everything to you. Do not be disillusioned with what comes to you. You are easily deceived because you trust easily. And you are easily influenced.”

Somewhat ominous. 

I do at times feel as though my radar is broken when it comes to certain people. And I’m aware of it. Which is why I let very few people get close to me, and have a very small group of trusted friends that I count on one hand.

I am highly intuitive, yet because I like to see the good in people, I think that I sometimes become blindsided by the illusion.

Or maybe, it all comes down to that whole mirror theory. 

That how we see others is a reflection of ourselves. And we trust people to be careful with our hearts. When the only one who needs to be careful with our hearts is us. 

Who knows. 

I obviously have a very open mind about most things in life, so it was fascinating for me to get a reading on the position of all of the planets at my time of birth. I think we all have a sense of curiosity about what the stars have in store for us. 

Because isn’t that what all of us are waiting for? For the stars to align? That “perfect” moment?

But what if there is no magical aligning of the stars? No “perfect” moment?

Or what if, like Paulo Coelho’s famous book “The Alchemist”, it all comes down to that famous quote?

“It is written.”

And what does that mean anyway?

Well, it all comes down to destiny doesn’t it. And that if it’s meant to happen, it will happen. 

So perhaps it is all written in the stars after all. 

When we do make things happen, is it just that we are so in tune with ourselves that we are intuitively picking up on the path that we are meant to go down regardless?

I honestly have no idea. 

Either way, nothing should stop you from living your life, and pursuing your dreams. 

Because after all, like that other famous quote from The Alchemist, when you want something, all of the universe conspires to make it happen. So decide what you want – and do everything you can to make it happen. 

Things always have a way of working out how they should. 





My father, my sister, and I, are all exceptionally well spoken. We all have mild lisps too on certain words. Something my mother often complains about with my father.

“It’s like he’s talking underwater with a friggin mouthful of marbles! I can’t understand a word he says! He mumbles, and then he has that friggin lisp to top it all off!” she tells me.

My mother is the epitome of a “typical Aussie”, with not only her broad Australian accent, but her use of Aussie slang.

Growing up, she told me how she used to remember the currency when she herself was a child.

“There was a song that we used to sing” she told me.

“There was not” I replied. Everyone teases my Mum. And she loves it.

“There was! It went “pounds, shillings pence. The monkey jumped the fence. He cut his ass, on a bit of glass – pounds, shillings, pence.”

As a typical teenager, I had a messy room, with clothes strewn everywhere.

She used to fling open the door, and lose her mind at me. She was really scary.

“Amy! This place looks like a friggin Chinese joss house!”

I would yell back defiantly at her “I don’t even know what that is!”

Apparently its a brothel.

Also on account of my life-long aversion to brushing my hair, I’ve been told throughout the years that I look like “The Wreck of Hesperus”

Which is a famous ship wreck.

Whenever she sees me crying, she always tells me the same thing “listen here Amy. You need to take a spoonful of cement, and toughen up”.

I guess that’s where our good sense of humour, and humility comes from. Having a strong woman, not only reminding us of our place, and lacking a filter when it comes to what comes out of her mouth, but also making sure our feet are firmly planted on the ground. In her own words, she “does not give a shit” what anyone thinks of her. She calls a spade a spade.

Funny that she’s managed to raise two very feminine daughters. And two very different daughters too.

I am the whimsical Peter Pan. My sister is the structured, sensible one.

My Mum is completely neurotic, and equally hilarious.

I recall a conversation I had with her last week. I was telling her that one of my followers on Instagram had proposed marriage to me.

“Does he have any money? For Gods sake Amy, get your priorities right.”

That’s my Mum for you, for any future potential suitors…

I went and hung out with her today.

She asked me to go over for dinner tomorrow night.

“I’m making a baked chicken” she told me.

“I’ll see.” I told her. My general response to everything in life. I’m so unreliable.

“What do you mean you’ll see? You gotta eat don’t you? You’re very thin. Do you eat? I worry about you, you know. And you should see the size of the chicken I’ve bought. You could put a saddle on that thing and ride it home.” She told me. Completely deadpan.

I burst out laughing.

My Mum cracks a smile now. She knows she’s very funny.

“You could put a saddle on it! You should see the size of it!” she tells me.

“I’ll see.”

“What? Do you have something better to do? Are you having dinner with the Queen?” she asks me.

“Well, you never know. Ryan Gosling might ask me on a date tomorrow night.” I tell her.

“Who in the hell is Ryan Gosling?”

“Have you see The Notebook?” I ask.

“The what? Who is he?”

“This hot actor”

“And where does he live?”

“In America”

“Oh Amy, get your head out of the clouds. Stop living in la-la land for God’s sake. And if he does happen to ask you out, give him our address and let him know that he has to pick you up from your parents house.”

My Dad, the most patient man on the planet, comes home now from walking my sisters dog at her house. She overseas right now.

“Hey Robert, I’ve asked Amy over for dinner tomorrow night, but she doesn’t know if she can make it or not because of some bloke called Ryan Gosling. Do you know who that is?” my Mum asks my Dad.

My Dad laughs.

I complain that I can smell bleach on my hands as I did the dishes this morning with bleach. I do that sometimes.

“Oh Amy! You silly girl! Wear gloves! That shit will take the skin off a Rhino!” 

My Dad pipes up now, and lets me know that he used bleach the other day as well to remove some grease stains from his hands, and what a fantastic job it did of removing the dirt.

“Oh your father is stupid. We went out to dinner the other night, and his hands were completely black. And I told him that when we go to Europe next week, he better bloody well make sure his hands are clean. We’ve got this fancy dinner at some castle. I don’t want him turning up looking like a Pox Doctors assistant, with his hands covered in grease!”

I burst out laughing again.

“Whats a Pox Doctors assistant?!” I ask.

“Oh don’t you know? They were the best dressed doctors assistants” my Dad says matter-of-factly. As if I’m meant to know that useless piece of information.

“I love it when you laugh.” my Mum tells me.

“You’re giving me wrinkles. I was planning on ageing gracefully. You’re going to have to pay for my botox if I decide to get it” I tell her.

“Oh I’ll do it for you. I’ll suck the fat out of that big chicken out there and inject it into your face. That’ll do the trick” she responds.

My Mum turns now to look at my Dad.

“What in the friggin hell is THAT?!” she reprimands my father, pointing to a large hole in his jumper, over his upper stomach region.

“I learnt a lesson the other day” my Dad begins philosophically, “to make sure you wear protective clothing whilst welding”

More laughter from me.

“You burnt a hole in it?” I ask him.


“Why didn’t you tell me so I could sew it up for you?” my Mum pipes up.

“It’s been through the wash twice. I thought you would have seen it” my Dad responds innocently.

“Do you think I sit there searching for holes in jumpers?” my Mum asks him. She’s so mad.

I feel like my head is about to explode from the crap that I’m listening to.

“I have to go! I can’t sit here anymore! No wonder I’m an alcoholic!” I say as I stand, and make my way to the front door.

“Ill drink to that!” my Dad says, holding up his beer.

“You’re all nuts” my Mum says.

“You’re nuts” my Dad says to my Mum.

“Listen, we’re all going down the same road Robert.” my Mum says to my Dad.

“Yeah, but you’re going too fast” my Dad says.

My Mum sits there for a minute, contemplating his words, before imparting some final words of wisdom. “Well, yes, some of us just get there faster than others”.

I always like to drive some sort of an inspirational message home in each of my articles. But today, my brain is somewhat frazzled.

So let’s use the words of my mother. That some of us just get there faster than others.

This can be likened to most things in life. Career, life in general, sex, achieving our goals, death, the complete loss of our marbles…

All of us are on our own unique journeys. All with different hopes and dreams in our hearts for ourselves.

One thing I am forever grateful for is the non-judgemental nature of both of my parents. They love, and accept both my sister and I for the unique women we are, and would support us no matter what path we choose to walk.

Especially me. The crazy one.

I think that’s the most important thing in this relatively short life of ours. To surround yourself with people who love and accept you for YOU. Not trying to change who you are. Appreciating you for the true gift you are. And never, ever, under any circumstances should you lose your sense of humour.

My advice today would be to just keep on moving forward on your journey. 

Compete only with yourself, and in the words of Johnny Depp, “Just keep moving forward and don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. Do what you have to do for you.”




I was supposed to leave yesterday. I was disappearing overseas again for a while.

Although I am unconventional, and very much a neurotic free-spirit who goes with the flow of life, I am also logical, methodical, and quite sensible. 

I was going away again to have some more time in solitude. Like I actually need anymore time on my own. 

And in a lot of ways, in addition to “living my life”, I was also running away. 

That’s what travelling is right? An escape from reality?

I think a lot of us like to bury our heads in the sand to what is. 

I also think that sometimes, whilst travelling absolutely broadens the mind, it also just delays the inevitable. 

At some point or another, you have to come back down to earth (your reality), and actually start travelling forward in your life. 

As a writer, the only way I find I can write properly is in solitude. 

I lock myself away from everything surrounding me, and at times have friends attempting to extract me from my self-imposed sabbatical from the world. 

Yet, in my contradictory fashion, I also require inspiration to draw upon. 

People watching, having new experiences to free me from the memory of the past, and being exposed to things that are outside of my comfort zone. 

Which is why travelling is probably one of the best ways to become inspired. 

I have been travelling for a long time. From the age of 18. 

That’s 17 years. 

I realise I am very lucky to have been able to have had the opportunity to travel as much as I have. 

I also understand that I have actively participated in the creation of my “luck”.

I have worked very, very hard to be where I am at this stage of my life. 

And I am determined to continue working with the same fervour I always have. 

But this is most definitely the hardest work I have ever undertaken. 

The job of finding myself. 

When I want something, truly want something with all of my heart, I not only go after it, I make it happen. 

That’s where that saying of “be careful what you wish for” comes from. 

We are all manifesting our hopes and desires all the time. 

With our thoughts, we are sending a strong current out into the universe. Good, bad, or otherwise. 

I mentioned in my last article that I am incredibly indecisive. 

I am. 

Except when there is that “feeling” that I simply cannot ignore. 

Which leads me back to my decision to stay where I am for now. 

My gut / heart / intuition – whatever, is wanting me to stay put for the moment. I may very well change my mind again. But for now, I will stay where I am. 

However it’s only in the physical sense. 

I am continuing to travel forward despite my geographical location. 

My inspiration for the written word has not wavered. Nor has the search for myself. 

I know that sounds so cliched. But it’s true. 

You only have to look at the success of “Eat, Pray, Love”, and “Under The Tuscan Sun” to know that this is something that us newly single women in our 30’s struggle with. Finding ourselves that is. 

It’s hard to know who you are outside of a relationship. Particularly one that has consumed a significant portion of your life. 

Sometimes I think we all run away from things. But like I’ve written before, we can never escape from our hearts. 

It’s the journey within that matters most. And yes, a lot of the time, travel is what helps you “find yourself”.

Whilst I still promote my way of thinking in terms of doing whatever it takes you to get you to where you need to go, part of that, is paying attention to how things make you feel. And to ask yourself what the reason behind your indecision is. 

When people tell you to “sleep on it”, I think this is an amazing piece of advice. It helps to give you clarity.

And sleeping on it is what helped me to make up my mind on whether or not I would “escape” from my reality for a little while. 

I have the tools to escape right where I am. 

Because it all comes down to your thoughts. 

“Change your thoughts, and you change your world”, as Norman Vincent Peale says. 

My naturopath uses her intuition to prescribe certain herbs and the like. 

When she’s on the fence about something, she says “when in doubt, leave it out”.

Which is exactly what I’ve done. 

Ironically, you use the same thing to travel, that you do when making a decision. 

A compass.

Utilise that guiding compass of your gut / heart / intuition, and do your best to blindly follow what THAT is telling you. 

And when it comes to creating your luck, your dreams, your future?

Only you know what you want. 




One thing I’ve become aware of lately is that I’ve become somewhat of an inspiration for women who are unhappy in their relationships, or that have become recently separated from their partners. 

I’m naturally very flattered, but I do want to stress something. 

In no way am I promoting that ending a long term relationship is easy, or right for everyone. 

Because it’s not. 

It’s heartbreaking, soul destroying, and the biggest, and hardest decision you will ever make. 

Your life will change in so many ways. And mine is a lot less complicated than a lot of others, given the lack of attachment through children. 

Let me break it down for you. 

I will always love my former husband. Always. 

He popped over to the house the other day to grab something. 

“Have you been crying?”

“No.” I lied. 

Of course I’d been crying. It’s a given. I’m Amy Anka after all. And I’m a human being. 

When you’ve spent two decades with someone, they tend to know more about you than you know about yourself. 

He was a part of my life for a very long time. 

I think that’s the hardest part. 

Having someone be a part of your life for such an extended length of time. 

Where does the love go?

It stays. 

But it changes. 

We grew up together. When we started dating, I was just a girl.

I was 15. He was 18. We did everything together. 

He taught me how to drive (he did a really crap job by the way).

I went on my first plane trip with him at the age of 17. 

I went on my first overseas holiday with him at 18 that infected me with the “travel bug” that I’ve not been able to rid myself of since. 

We bought our first home together.

Our second home together. 

We started businesses. 

We worked together. 

We employed staff together. 

We lived together. 

We travelled the world extensively together. 

We laughed together, and ultimately cried together. 

He is forever in my heart. It’s just the way I am. And I think it’s a nice thing. A good thing. 

And we get along just fine. We love each other from a distance. It’s the best possible outcome. 

For the women that have been in touch with me to tell me that I’m an inspiration, words cannot express what that means to me. 

I certainly never anticipated being some sort of brave warrior for those that are in the throws of such a massive life upheaval. 

But do not be lulled into a false sense of security, for those that are considering going down the same path. 

I’m not a role model in any sense of the word. 

I don’t want anyone to believe that most things in life are anything other than an elaborate illusion. 

I just want to be me. Be the most authentic version of me possible. And I want all of you to be as well.

Don’t assume that I have all my “shit” together. I’m a work in progress. 

It’s really hard. Harder than I knew, or ever anticipated. 

And our paths are unique to each of us. 

Here’s a breakdown of some of the stuff that I have personally encountered on account of my new-found solidarity. 

It sucks to sleep alone after spending 13 years sharing my bed with someone. 

It’s really awesome too. I now sleep in the middle of the bed, with no one stealing the covers or keeping me awake with that stupid “candy crush” music, and the ensuing snoring. 

It’s hard to eat most meals alone. 

But it’s really cool to eat a whole block of chocolate for dinner sometimes, washed down with half a bottle of wine whilst watching “The Notebook” for the billionth time. 

I find myself so frustrated at times at having no one to help me with anything. 

But it’s also liberating to recognise I am quite handy when I want. 

No one gives me a kiss goodnight. 

Which means that occasionally I forego brushing my teeth. 

I have no one to tell about my day. 

But I also don’t need to explain myself to anyone. 

It gets really, really lonely at times. Especially on Sundays. I really dislike Sundays.

Yet, I cherish my solitude. 

There were far more complex issues that were ongoing which was the reason for my decision to separate. 

My decision.

Men don’t leave. Very rarely anyway.

And that’s the tough part. 

It’s generally up to us as women to make that final call. 

And I’m not going to sugar coat it and act like I’m not deeply flawed or unaffected. 

I’m a very complicated woman. 

I am the epitome of a “free spirit”. 

It’s maddening to anyone I’m sure. 

I’m stupidly stubborn, and want what I want. 

I am incredibly indecisive. I make plans. I break plans. I run late all the time.

I’m a silly little hippy.

And I’m a walking contradiction. 

At times, I have no idea who I am. And I also know exactly who I am. 

I take care of myself, yet also destroy myself. 

I’m constantly at odds with myself, with that persistent battle between my head and my heart. 

I’m immature and childlike, but equally possessing a “not to be fucked with” attitude. 

I am scared of everything, yet I am impossibly brave. 

I worry about what people think of me, and I also don’t give a fuck. 

I am vulnerable and ridiculously friendly. Guarded and reclusive. Keeping my walls very high and firmly in tact. 

Too trusting, and very wary. 

Easily forgiving, yet able to wipe people in the blink of an eye. 

Open to criticism, and hurt to the point of no return. 

I am deep, yet light of spirit. 

I guess that’s the Gemini in me. Or maybe I’m just a typical woman. Who knows. 

Today, the only advice I want to give is this – if you are in the throws of deciding to end a relationship, I implore you to try everything possible to salvage your relationship. 

I tried everything. It wasn’t a decision made on a whim. Nor one made lightly. And it now, is what it is.

And remember, you’re not living anyone else’s life. You’re living your own. So make sure you march to the beat of your own drummer, and do what’s right for you. 

Some people may think you’re mad when you start to follow your heart and what it’s guiding you towards. 

That’s a given. 

But that’s only because it looks so different to THEIR reality. And people can only generally draw upon their own experiences and beliefs when it comes to life advice. Never begrudge them for it. They are doing the best they can with all they know. 

So, I leave you with a quote today to ponder from the late Maya Angelou. 

And to all of my readers, I thank you for continuing to inspire me, and take care of your hearts. 

Amy xxx. 

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” – Maya Angelou



On the Huffington Post this week, there was a sequel to the “20 strangers kiss for the first time” video.

So today, I’ve chosen to write about it.


I love this video of 20 strangers kissing. I just love it. Because I’m a hopeless romantic.

And I love the follow up video even more.


I burst out laughing when that woman whose pants get broken says “these are my favourite trousers!”.

Men are so clumsy sometimes…

What I love most about the first video is the chemistry between the models.

The whole “getting lost in the moment” thing that’s going on. Going with the flow.

In the second video, it’s the vulnerability that has me so fascinated. And the ensuing lust. You couldn’t replicate that in a movie if you tried.

To allow someone else to undress you like that, and then hop into bed with them – it’s only natural that there is going to be chemistry, and that shit will inevitably happen.

Because we are all made of the same energy.

And we also aren’t as evolved as we’d like to believe.

We are instinctually programmed to pro-create. There’s no two ways about it.

Is it love? Lust? Basic chemistry? A connection? A primal urge? An understanding? Romance? Comfort? The need for someone to “complete” us? The need for men to “spread their seed”? Companionship?

I think it’s all of the above.

You all know I’m whimsical and have my head in the clouds about lots of things, but when it comes to attraction, a connection, chemistry, things happening for a reason, love?

Well, I want the impossible. I want the fairytale. And I’m holding out for it.

I want love AND lust.

I want someone to be in awe of me.

To think I’m “sex on legs”. That I’m brilliant. Beautiful.

I want to be chased.


I want the flowers. The romantic dinners. Doors opened for me. Lazy days on the couch. Seduction.


For someone to be completely mesmerised and enamoured by me.

For all I know, I might be waiting all my life. It may not even exist. But I think it does. And I’m willing to take that chance.

Is it impossible?

Most people say it is. And maybe it is. For them.

Perhaps we all settle into the safety of a comfort zone. And think that what we currently have is as good as it’s going to get.

But I don’t believe that. Not for a moment.

I think in life, we have more than one soulmate.

I believe that we learn what we need to learn from each other, and we move on. Move forward. Whether it’s a friend or a romantic partner.

And this may be quite controversial, but why do you think so many marriages end in divorce once the children fly the coup?

I know it’s a sensitive topic, but it’s one that needs to be addressed. I think.

Because in these instances where the couple have settled into a “comfort zone”, the children are often there as a “bandaid” of sorts, to distract from all that is wrong in the relationship.

And sometimes, it comes in the form of a career. Just saying.

I’m not saying all couples are unhappy. Not at all. There are stacks of blissfully happy couples out there.

However, there are also a bunch of couples who are desperately unhappy that are too afraid to walk away.

I know so many couples who are secretly in this predicament.

I recall my first business as a manicurist, going back almost 14 years now.

I heard the exact same thing from every single one of my female clients. Every single one of them.

“I hate my husband.”

I wish I was lying right now. But I’m not. I shit you not, this is what all of these women told me.

And being confronting is what I’m about.

To hear this as a 21 year old newly-wed really disturbed me.

However, with the life experience of a now 35 year old woman, I now totally get it. The penny has dropped.

And what I get the most is this.

It all comes down to fear.

Fear is what holds us back from everything in life.

Fear of the unknown.

All the “what if’s”?

But what if it’s so much more excellent than you could of ever possibly imagined?

What if, what you let go of, makes room for something better than you could of ever possibly dreamed of?

What if you meet the man / woman of your dreams as a result?

After all, if we are brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward us with a new hello.

I know not all of us are into chasing their dreams.

But I am.

Because as much as I doubt myself, I am fearless.

I wouldn’t be doing what I do, and what I have done, if I weren’t.

My lust for life, my ambition, my stubbornness, and my often elusive self-love is what continues to drive me.

So whilst it’s a confronting thing to ask yourself, what is it that you want out of this relatively short life?

What do you want?

Do you have the lust for life? Do you love yourself enough to do it no matter what price you pay? Or are you too worried about the “what if’s”?

Ok. Let’s break it down like this. I hear you asking a question…

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

And let me answer it very simply for you…

“Ohhhh, but what if it does?”

Stop living by the book you didn’t even write.

Write your own fucking book.


I had a thought last night. That my blog is almost like an in depth dating profile of sorts.

You get to find out a whole bunch of useless shit on here about what I’m all about.

My likes, my dislikes. How often I have complete meltdowns. The random thoughts that pop into my head. Probably why no one approaches me. I’m a bit of a nutter at times…

So back to my thoughts being about the whole dating thing.

I don’t want to date anyone. I’m ok on my own right now (oh, and Ryan Gosling, if you’re stalking me, which I totally know you are, you’re only human after all, just know that this rule doesn’t apply to you).

But if I was open to dating, I had to ask myself, what would I look for?

Well…since becoming single, I have noticed that there’s a whole bunch of shit I need done around the house, particularly because I’m astonishingly clumsy, and have managed to break a lot of stuff that I haven’t bothered to have fixed.

Which made me have another thought. Do I want a partner? Or just a handyman? Am I just way too difficult to share my life with someone else?

So, without further adieu, here’s what I’m searching for:

* Do you know how to replace down lights? Great. I have had two blown in my bedroom for, oh, I don’t know, 4 months now?

* Do you own a ladder? Because I don’t. This is the reason for the blown lights. Did you also know I’m stupidly short? I don’t think it’s normal to be a grown woman of my height…

* Do you know how to put sliding doors back on their tracks? I don’t. I hope you can handle having to do this on a daily basis, as I have an incredible knack for taking my wardrobe doors off the tracks. It really is a gift. In fact, my “coats” section is inaccessible right now. Which is really inconvenient. Seeing as though it’s winter and all.

* Will you be willing to cut my grass?

* Will you be willing to mow my lawns? (do you like what I did there? Me too. I just mentally high-fived myself).

* Will you find out whatever battery my garage remote takes? I can’t get the goddamn remote open, and my car is sitting out on the driveway as a result. #FirstWorldProblems

* Will you wash my car for me? It’s gotten really dirty because of the whole garage remote dilemma. And it’s too cold right now to be washing cars.

* Will you take the rubbish bins out for me on Wednesday nights?

* Will you listen to me talk shit about the universe, Ganesh, print-clashing, writers block, spirituality, and all of the other crap that pours out of my mouth?

* Do you know how to do plumbing? That’s not a rhetorical question. I’m serious. I’ve managed to break the tap on my kitchen sink. Oh, and the ensuite toilet is broken too.

* I hope you like living with someone who has OCD. Everything has it’s “place”.

* Do you like hats? I do. Because I hate washing my hair. And brushing it too.

* On Fridays, I wash my hair. Know that there will be no hot water left as a result. It takes around 4 shampoos before I can finally work up a lather.

* I really like clothes. Like, HEAPS. And I throw together some strange outfits at times. I don’t want to hear any negative feedback. I like to dress this way. And I’m a shopaholic too.

* I am completely neurotic. And I don’t want to hear about that either. Oh. And really, really stubborn. There’s always a method to my madness, and I like to do things “my” way.

* Are you afraid of spiders? I am. So unless you will get rid of them for me, please don’t apply.

* I cry. A lot. I’m a real girly girl. And I worry about everything. I overthink everything. I’d like you to reassure me that everything is going to be ok.

* I am a gym junkie. I don’t expect you to be. But I like taking care of myself. Don’t stop me from doing what I do.

* Do you like being afraid? Well…I seldom sleep. And when I do, I have “night terrors”. And I sleep walk too. I hope you have a good sense of humour.

* Do you like to listen? I talk a lot. And I’ll tell you about my dreams each morning if I’ve actually managed to get some sleep.

* Will you accept me for who I am? And that I change my mind like the weather?

* Are you patient? I’m a very difficult woman. And I’m allergic to lots of things. Prawns and penicillin being the main ones. Oh, and bullshit.

* Can you handle meltdowns? I have them all the time.

* I hate the city. And I hate that bullshit “scene”. Just know, that I won’t be living there. I’m someone who likes the quiet. And I’m a homebody too.

* Do you like pyjamas? I’m quite fond of them. And there are days when I’ll be in them until 6pm.

* I’m an eternal child. And I love to laugh. Mr Maturity need not apply.

* Do you have a bad temper? Because I don’t. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

* I’m a real sweetheart. But don’t take advantage of that.

* I’m actually really shy. And I get really nervous.

* I really like to travel. And I don’t travel light given my love of “options”.

* Do you snore? I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is, and this is a non-negotiable.

* Like Beyoncé, I hope you sleep to the left. Because I sleep on the right. On my stomach. Like superman. With my arms up under the pillow.

* Sometimes, I get really drunk. But I’m super fun. And I like to dance. And I really like Britney.

* I say “fuck” a lot. And sometimes I use the “C” word. But I speak so eloquently. Like a newsreader. So it’s somewhat charming. Endearing.

* I’m such a weirdo. I really hope you like my “eccentricity”.

* I don’t believe in Western Medicine. But I totally believe in Malboro lights. And coffee. And alcohol.

So if you are an avid reader of my writing, I have to tell you that whilst I wrote today’s blog, I was listening to music. Actually, I wrote this article last night. Whilst I was three sheets to the wind.

And if you follow my twitter feed, you’ll see that my last tweet was a song lyric from Pink.

“Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, “I just don’t care.”?

I just don’t care. I am who I am. Flaws and all.

So boys (or men), if you’re up for the challenge, get in line…


Do you ever notice what happens with wounds?

They often heal leaving a permanent scar remaining. Changing the way things once looked.

I have a few scars on me.

One on my hand from when I stupidly decided to slice a block of cheese with a potato peeler. Don’t ever attempt that by the way.

A really bad one on my left palm from an incident involving a set of stairs when I was younger.

One on my finger from a rubbish bin and a piece of tin…

I could go on.

These are just the physical reminders of things that have hurt us.

What about emotional scars? Do they too, leave a permanent mark? Also changing things?

Yeah. Of course they do.

We naturally shy away from, and recoil from the things that have hurt us at some point or another. We form an invisible, yet tangible scar in our memory.

It’s a self preserving response to avoiding pain.

And it all comes down to fear. Not wanting to repeat what we know has caused us pain in the past.

So we avoid things.

Like spiders for me.

I’ve been bitten a total of five times now.

I’m absolutely terrified of spiders. Like, stupid afraid.

Because I know first hand, the pain that they inflict. I know to stay far away from them. It’s instinctual.

But what about something like a broken heart? Can you ever recover from a broken heart?

When I was overseas travelling, there was a theme throughout the fellow travellers that I came across.

They were mostly in their 20’s. They had quit their jobs, and bravely left behind everything familiar and of comfort, in search of an adventure. A new life.

They were all blindly following their hearts. Something I’m clumsily attempting to do in my own flawed way.

I looked at myself. I didn’t belong. I was so different to these people in search of themselves.

A woman in her mid 30’s. Having been in a relationship for 20 years that had now come to an end. Having been spared from so many experiences as I have lived in my safe little bubble for what seems like an eternity.

In a lot of ways I feel as though I’ve always been someone wife. Someone running businesses. “That girl” who tried for years to have a baby but couldn’t. But never “Amy”. I’m attempting to re-discover who this person is.

Having left the safety of my parents home, and going straight into the role of a “wife”, has stunted me somewhat in terms of my emotional development.

I suffer terribly from anxiety. I am a bundle of nerves at the best of times.

My Aunty even told me through the week that I’m the most sensitive soul she has come across.

“My sweet darling girl. You’re so sensitive I can feel your sadness vibrating from your very soul. It permeates everything around you. I feel your heartbreak. Don’t give anyone that beautiful heart of yours.”

I feel everything.

My feelings are so easily hurt. I burst into tears regularly. It’s not because I am flawed. It’s because I am too sensitive. Because I am soft. Because my heart bears many scars.

Today I went to visit my lifelong friend of 31 years in hospital. She had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy.

I felt old feelings attempting to re-surface. My scars in my memory. In my heart.

Ones from my 6 year attempt of trying to start my own family with my former husband.

For a moment there, I became aware of the fake smile plastered upon my face. My eyes beginning to sting from the tears that pricked the back of them.

I took a deep breath, and reprimanded myself firmly.

Reminding myself that, that time is over now. It’s time to move forward.

That everything happens for a reason. Even if only in hindsight we can make sense of the reasons why.

My life would look very different if I did have children.

I may still be married.

I may have a very sick child on my hands.

I may be in a bitter custody dispute.

But there’s no point in dwelling on the “what if”‘s in life.

I have to look at what I do have.

Everything really does happen for a reason.

And as I looked at my dear friend and her husband, and their beautiful little baby, I had a thought.

Sometimes our invisible scars can be beautiful.

They help to shape us into the person we become.

Yes, I have made mistakes. Monumental ones. We all have. We’re human.

But I also recognise that without them, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

I potentially wouldn’t be able to write the way that I do.

I have recognised that being “super sensitive” isn’t a flaw at all. Perhaps it’s a gift.

Particularly because I know that my writing has helped a lot of people.

I posted a quote to my Instagram feed the other day about sensitive people. I almost feel as though this quote was written exclusively for me. So today, I will leave you with that.

And don’t worry about your scars. They are all there to teach us something.

To re-direct the course of destiny.

To help us fight for who we are.

And the scars in our hearts?

Well, I don’t really know about that.

But all I can say is this – follow your heart. Even when it hurts. Even if it’s broken.

“Sensitive people are the most genuine and honest people you will ever meet. There is nothing they won’t tell you about themselves if they trust your kindness. However, the moment you betray them, reject them or devalue them, they become the worst type of person. Unfortunately, they end up hurting themselves in the long run. They don’t want to hurt other people. It is against their very nature. They want to make amends and undo the wrong they did. Their life is a wave of highs and lows. They live with guilt and constant pain over unresolved situations and misunderstandings. They are tortured souls that are not able to live with hatred or being hated. This type of person needs the most love anyone can give them because their soul has been constantly bruised by others. However, despite the tragedy of what they have to go through in life, they remain the most compassionate people worth knowing, and the ones that often become activists for the broken hearted, forgotten and the misunderstood. They are angels with broken wings that only fly when loved.” – Shannon L. Alder