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I am absolutely fascinated by human psychology. Why we behave the way that we do. In fact, I am often wanting to pursue it on a professional level…

I love to quietly observe people, and I feel as though I have somewhat mastered the art of being a reasonably good judge of character.

Most of the time anyway.

For my entire life, I have been told that I am “too sensitive”. But it has always been said with a negative tone.

Ahhhh…negativity. It truly has the potential to destroy you…

Only now that I am older, am I coming to understand what it’s all about.

Yes, I feel too deeply. I overthink things. I can walk into a room and pick up on all of the energy around me. I absorb everything that is taking place before me, and I have a very long memory. I remember conversations, and outfits worn whilst having these conversations. Put-downs stick painfully in my mind. I can often “predict” what is going to happen, and my intuition is razor-sharp. I am easily overwhelmed, to the point where I almost find it traumatic to watch sad or violent movies because of the “dramatic” response that it creates within me.

Some might see that as a flaw. That I am weak-minded. That I need to “toughen up”.

I however, have a different take on it all.

I recognise that it is a gift to be so hyper-aware of the world that surrounds me. If I was to consult the spiritual side of attempting to explain “why I am the way I am”, I would have to label myself as an “empath”.

I was watching a “Ted Talk” today by Helen Riess, about empathy.

What is empathy?

“Empathy is the experience of understanding another person’s condition from their perspective. The capacity to place oneself in another’s position.”

In the talk that I was watching, the speaker who is a psychiatrist, speaks about her own interest in what makes people connect with others, and what makes other people disconnect with others.

Empathy is a remarkable trait that I have personally observed in someone as young as a 6 year old child.

I recall going back almost 3 years now, where I was at my friends house. My marriage was breaking down, and I was having a very difficult time.

I sat on the steps at the front of her house, sobbing inconsolably.

Her son came and sat down next to me. He had a bag of lollies in his hand.

“Do you want one?” he innocently asked, his arm outstretched offering me one of the colourful candies in the bag he was clutching. “When I’m sad, lollies always make me feel better.” He said sincerely.

And I immediately felt better. I laughed, wiped away my tears, and took one of the lollies from the bag. Hey – whatever gets you there, right?
Back to the Ted Talk about what empathy is.

To quote this speaker, “Isn’t that what all of us want? To be seen, and heard, and to have our needs responded to? That’s the essence of empathy.”

She talks about a study that she conducted on discovering when there is empathy between people, whether their heart rates and other physiological tracers actually matched up. In other words, if it really is true that when people tell us “I feel your pain”, they actually DO feel it.

One of the patients involved in the study was a young college student who had come for help with weight loss.

Now this particular patient made progress in many other areas, except for this one.

Cut a long story short, after having monitored this patient they realised that this calm, confident, articulate woman turned out to have massive anxiety.

When they showed this patient the computer tracings of her being monitored where it essentially revealed that she was suffering from anxiety, she responded “I’m not surprised by this at all. I live with this every day. But no one has ever seen my pain.”

As this psychiatrist started to pay attention to the subtle signs that showed this level of anxiety within the patient, and she came to understand, her work went to a much deeper level. This woman “unburdened herself emotionally, and started to exercise for the first time in her life. And this woman who had only ever gained weight, and never lost weight before, went on to lose almost 50 pounds in the next year.”

This psychiatrist made it her mission to learn everything she could about the neuroscience of empathy.

She conducted a further study in a randomised control trial at a hospital where doctors where rated by their patients. These doctors were rated much higher if they were trained on “my doctor really listened to me, really showed care and compassion, treated me like a whole person, and understood my concerns”.

Which makes me want to drive home the importance of making a conscious effort to surround ourselves with those that truly see us for who we are. And not just aesthetically see us. Those who see into our souls.

All of us have a story. All of us.

We all have our trials and our secret sorrows. We all have a story. It’s what makes us unique, and it’s what helps us to connect with others. When we are unafraid of being vulnerable enough to be able to share our concerns, our thoughts, and our feelings with another, and for when it’s a safe place for us to be able to totally be ourselves.

The connection bit comes from someone possessing the gift of empathy. Not everyone has it. And know that you are not going to be able to connect with everyone who crosses your path. And that’s totally ok. Just love yourself enough to recognise that, and keep searching until you find those that you share stuff with. And that it’s totally in your best interests to be around people who “get it”. In fact, it can improve your own life immensely.

It doesn’t serve your emotional growth to be surrounded by people who negatively reinforce really fucked up belief systems within you. Because all you end up feeling like – is a total fuck-up.

To quote C.S. Lewis (the author of Alice in Wonderland):

“Friendship…is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself…”

Find those that share your joy, your sorrow, your weirdness, and keep them close to you. Because that is what empathy, and friendship is all about. It’s about understanding one another. Never lower your standards out of desperation or loneliness. You will find your tribe. You will. And it will be better than you can dream.

I end todays post with a quote from the legendary Steve Jobs.

“If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.”


imageWhen I first left my ex-husband just over 2 years ago now, after initially saying that I never wanted to be in a relationship ever again, I then went on to say that I would give myself the gift of being single for a year.

Whilst I often struggled with loneliness during that year, and I was often consumed by some very dark days, by the end of that period I had truly come to accept being single. And not only accept it, I was pretty happy.

I enjoyed doing things on my own. I enjoyed meeting new people. I enjoyed the freedom of not having to let anyone know my plans. I enjoyed taking off whenever I wanted to. I enjoyed spending a lot of my time writing, and figuring out who I am as a woman.

And at the end of that year, I finally felt whole as a person. I was complete.

And that’s when it began.

Exactly one year to the day after I ended my marriage, I met someone very special.

On Monday that just passed, I celebrated my one year anniversary with him.

And today, I want to share something very special.

On Tuesday morning, he had organised a lunch for us in which he had kept the location a secret.

I excitedly got ready that morning, fussing over what I should wear. As I do.

He got dressed in all blue, and I too decided to wear blue also.

I have become one of those couples that likes to dress in matching outfits *cue eye-rolling*.

We got into the car, and we started to head towards the northern beaches of Sydney. A place that is very special to me as I spent almost every weekend there as a child visiting my Grandparents.

As we drove further, I realised we were on my Grandparents street.

We parked, and got out of the car, where we joined hands, and walked along the reserve on the cliff at the back of my Grandparents bare block of land. The house has since been demolished, but it still holds the magic that it always did. I even strangely felt their presence.

He lead me to “the seat of knowledge”, a park bench perched high upon the cliff overlooking the beach below.

A place where my Grandfather used to sit with us, and tell us stories like grandfathers do.

We sat down, and he took my hand, retrieving a piece of paper from his pocket.

“A year ago today I woke up with you for the first time.

I remember feeling excited to have met someone who made me feel so energised, and yet also so calm. I knew you were a very special girl from the moment we first started texting. It didn’t take long to fall in love with you. Somehow I think within only a few days I knew where our relationship would go, and since then, I have never looked back.

This place.

I know this place holds a special place in your heart. I know how much you loved your grandfather and what this beautiful setting means to you.

For me, I have grown up with the ocean. It is part of me and I am part of it.
I have chosen the seat of knowledge as it represents a connection point between the ocean and the land and therefore signifies the intersecting of part of your history and part of mine, two histories that are now irreversibly bonded by love.

We have lived, travelled, talked for hours on end, survived Ikea 3 times, laughed and laughed, mostly you at me, but ultimately shared life together without material, without ego and without the need to do or to show. We have just lived, and discovered within each other that simplicity has a beauty about it that only few see.

Amy, you have made me the happiest I have ever been. It is inconceivable that 12 months ago I didn’t know you, yet now I can’t imagine what life would be like without you.

I love you so much. I would be honoured to become your husband. So for the universe’s sake please say yes.

Amy Nash. Will you marry me?”

And I am overjoyed to announce that I said yes.

Today, I want to dedicate this article to my fiancé.

So here goes:

I want to thank you for moving mountains to be with me.

You have brought me so much happiness.

You have literally brought colour into my world. Where it was once filled with beige, neutrals, lots of shades of grey, and sometimes black, it is now replaced with the most vibrant of colours.

You have allowed me to care for you, and you have cared for me more than anyone.

You have made me laugh so much. I know I laugh at you a lot. But you do really funny things.

You have never made me cry, and you’ve always been there to dry my tears when I have watched sad movies, and the finale of the “Bachelorette”.

You have filled me with a joy like no other.

You have been there to comfort, and reassure me when I have had my panic attacks. You have been there for me during hard times, and happy times.

You have been my rock, my advocate, and my unwavering constant.

You think I’m beautiful first thing in the morning. You like my messy hair, and you always tell me I don’t need to wear makeup.

You have built things for me, and helped build me up too.

We have talked and talked – mostly me talking to you, and trying to convince you that magic is real (it is by the way…).

You have always treated me like a princess.

You have always been a perfect gentleman.

You are polite, soft-natured, well-mannered, respectful, generous, and kind. I’m not sure I know anyone as kind-hearted as you. Maybe my Dad 🙂

You have always allowed me to be myself. You have never judged me, or made fun of me, or put me down.

You accept me for the weirdo that I am, with my tendency towards nervousness.

You understand my complexities, and my contradictory nature. You know that I am a combination of soft and strong.

I love that you read books, and that you are spiritual. I love that you are not ruled by ego, vanity, and wanting to “win”.

I love that you know how to be silent. And I don’t mean being quiet. I mean being still. Being present. And not needing constant stimulation to be content. “A Jedi craves not these things”.

Thank you for taking my hand and not letting go whilst gently guiding me when I have been overwhelmed and sometimes paralysed by fear.

You are my partner, and also my friend, and I feel so lucky that the stars aligned, and we were able to find each other. You are my wish to the universe come true.

The whole version of me feels honoured to be completed with the whole version of you.

And to me, the ring I now wear, is symbolic of that complete circle.

The force is strong in both of us.

I love you, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you.

To my readers, my only advice is to only allow love to be your motivating force.

Don’t allow fear to consume you.

And to love? Say YES.


My first article for 2015…

I’ve been meaning to publish something for quite some time now, yet I’ve dropped off the radar a lot so far this year. I am in deep contemplation.

I’ve had so many things I’ve wanted to write about, yet I’ve gone back into my shell like I so often maddeningly do.

So today, I am writing a letter to the women in my life. My constants. You know who you are.

It is a thank you letter.

I want to thank you for never giving up on me.

For humouring me constantly (even though I’m often the one doing the humouring).

For never judging me (even when I’m harshly, and often unfairly judging myself).

For letting me cry pathetically to you. You know how it goes with me. And I often blow my nose on my clothing when the floodgates open.

For placing me carefully under your wings, and attempting to protect my delicate, and powerfully naive heart from the mistakes I often make regardless of your advice (because I stubbornly never listen, and am a sucker for learning the hard way).

For not giving me too much grief for the fact that I hadn’t showered since Wednesday (I showered this morning FYI).

For accepting that my rose-coloured glasses are stupidly planted firmly on my nose constantly.

For calling me out on my bullshit.

For laughing both with me, and at me.

For being able to call you at any time of the day or night.

For looking after me. Always.

For fattening me up when it’s required, due to my sometimes bad eating habits.

For accepting me for the total nut-job that I am.

For loving me when I”m not very loveable.

For taking me out to lunch, and dinner.

For taking me shopping.

For taking me to the beach.

For making me cups of tea.

For bringing me glasses of wine.

For taking beautiful photos of me when I’m deep in thought, and twirling my hair like a small child. Where my hidden sadness is written all across my expressive face.

For your excellent oxytocin hugs.

For letting me stay with you as long as I need.

For encouraging, and supporting me.

For telling me I’m beautiful (and telling me I’m ugly too).

For being there during my many “conniption fits”.

For making me leave the house (and sometimes the country) when I really didn’t want to. Or was just afraid to.

For checking in on me when I go quiet.

For reminding me that I’m loved.

For talking to me until I fall asleep.

For asking me for advice (that, I’m particularly flattered over, seeing as I’m often a monumental fuck-up).

For seeing me at my absolute worst, and loving me anyway.

And for being my world.

My friend. My companion. My mother. My sister. My Aunty. My everything.

My unwavering constant.

In the past 12 months, I have come to discover the powerful impact that someone taking your hand can have. To assist you in your life journey.

I am completely floored by the support I have had from the women in my life.

And it makes me wonder about the notion of “soulmates”. The whole notion of finding your “other half”.

Of if it doesn’t necessarily have to be in the romantic sense.

Because I have found my soulmate in all of these beautiful people. All of them.

Those that reflect back to me what I so often forget is so special, and magnetically infectious about me.

That remind me constantly of the spark that I possess, even when I think it has been extinguished forever.

So whilst todays article is a thank you letter, there’s also a lesson in this piece.

To draw upon the support of those around you. To drop the walls, and allow them to be your “other half”.

It’s not a sign of weakness, but one of strength.

To keep your heart soft no matter what, and to never be too proud (or too stubborn) to let people into your life.

You might discover that your soulmate is much closer to you than you may think.


(On a side note, I’d also like to thank my Dad. Who does everything for me. Who never judges me. Who believes in me. Who allows me to make mistakes. Who listens to me and my nonsense. Who never says “no”. Who offers unbiased advice. Who keeps my secrets. Who loves me unconditionally. Who is stupidly proud of me no matter what I do. Even when I do really silly things.

As I wrote this evenings article, I was listening to John Mayer’s song “Daughters”.

The lyrics that stood out to me the most were these:

“I know a girl
She puts the colour inside of my world
But she’s just like a maze
Where all of the walls continually change
And I’ve done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I’m starting to see
Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me”

To all of the people that have crossed my path, and that are a part of my life, know that the way I am has nothing to do with you. It’s just the way I am. As much as an unsolvable riddle that I am.

The chorus then has a message in it too:

“Fathers, be good to your daughters”

My father is not only good to his daughters, he is exceptional. Outstanding. So as my unwavering constant, I also want to thank my Dad for loving me to the point of madness.

And above all, look after the women in your life. We are complicated. Indecisive. Completely bonkers. A contradiction. Highly emotional. Irrational.

But without women, none of us would be here.

Search tirelessly for your unwavering constant, and when you discover it, never, ever let it go…)


“When I was a child, an angel came to say,
A true friend is coming my warrior to sweep you away,
It won’t be easy the path because it leads through hell,
But if you’re faithful, it will be the greatest story to tell,
You will move God’s daughters to a place of hope,
Your story will teach everyone there is nothing they can’t cope,
You will suffer a lot, but not one tear will you waste,
Because for all that you do for me, you will be graced,
For I am bringing you someone that wants to travel your trail,
Someone you already met when you passed through heaven’s veil,
A warrior, a friend that whispers your heart’s song,
Someone that will run with you and pull your spirit along,
Don’t you see the timing was love’s fated throw,
Because I put you both there to help one another grow,
I am the writer of all great stories your chapters were written by me,
You suffered, you cried because I needed you to see,
That your faith in my ending goes far beyond two,
It was going to change more hearts than both of you knew,
So hush my child and wait for my loving hand,
The last chapter is not written and still in the sand,
It is up to you to finish, before the tide washes it away,
All that is in your heart, I’ve put their for you to say,
This is not about winning, loss or pain,
I made you the way you are because true love stories are insane,
I wrote you in heaven as I sat on its sandy shore,
You know with all of my heart I loved you both more,
There is no better ending two people seeing each other’s heart,
Together your spirits will never drift apart,
Because two kindred spirits is what I made you to be,
The waves and beach crashing together because of– ME.” – Shannon L. Alder


I’ve taken off again like a gypsy.

I am currently in a small town in Northern Thailand, called Pai, in Mae Hong Son province near the Myanmar border which lies along the Pai river, staying with my soul sister.

This is the second time I’ve visited this region.
I was here for a few days back in June where I did all the touristy things.

I visited the hot springs, the waterfalls, the canyon.

Yet this time upon my return, I’m having a totally different experience.

My friend, whom has been living here for a little while now, lives in a quaint little bungalow in the jungle.

The sound of the insects keep us awake each evening. There is nothing but the stars and moon that illuminate the night sky.

There is a bizarre stillness in the air that has this palpability to it. I’m not sure how to describe it other than this place contains an intoxicating energy.

It’s certainly one of the most unique destinations I’ve visited throughout my years of travel.

This small town has a close-knit community feel to it, and attracts artists from all over. Each with an interesting story to tell. You couldn’t dream up these characters if you tried.

Hence the appeal that magnetically draws all of these impossibly creative types to this magical place.

As my friend lives here, we are now interacting with the locals that reside here.

The other night, we went to an open poetry night at a place called “Art and Chai”.

Our new friend got up to read something that he had written.

For me it offered an interesting insight into the minds of men.

I often write about the battle between our heads and our hearts.

And now, I understand that men have an added complexity to them. And I found his poem not only amusing, but also endearing for some reason.

I love nothing more than honesty, authenticity, and vulnerability. And a lot of men are afraid to be as candid as what our friend chose to be that evening.

So let me introduce our new friend.

His name is Damien Pitw. He is a Frenchman living in magical Pai.

Having left his steady job in finance, Damien is living a life dedicated to passionate simplicity.

Sparked by curiosity, he has delved into the creative arts of baking and poetry. He has been engrossed in perfecting Kombucha ( and pate with his own unique touch of love and care.

Damien is a proponent of locally produced food and constructive conversations that contribute to a morale society and evolve the human mind, especially these two intertwined over a glass of wine.

“This poem was inspired by Grand Corps Malade. Thanks to him.

My Heart, my Mind, and my Balls

I’d like a word with you ladies who haunt me day and night,

A word of secret stories about us guys’ everyday plight.

Our love for you is cursed and tainted by a mystery

Sometimes even worse than that of your femininity

The male body is a haven for three organs to rule,

Three desperate leaders making me look like a fool.

Forever a fight of fearless fiends and foes
has been raging within my heart, my mind and my balls.

Please ladies excuse us all the nonsense we display,

When we make a fuss of love and then push you away.

It’s because of all this mess in our body:

The heart, the mind and the balls discuss, but they never agree.

My heart is an open door letting everyone in,
but my head always thinks fore and doesn’t fall in.

When my jewels jiggle for a desire that calls,
My mind gets in the way, and it’s breaking my balls.

My head told my heart in would not give up its crown,

If my cock had a heartache it would even let them down.

My bollocks didn’t like the heartless tone of the brains,

But since my heart doesn’t have the balls, in power the mind remains.

My balls don’t think so much but have a hearty appetite

And if my heart wouldn’t mind, they would party every night.

Sometimes my heads fucks it up and my heart bleeds,

It hurts more than a kick in the nuts, I know how it feels.

I painfully love all women as I playfully fear them,

Now you know why my life around them is such a mayhem.

But as long as the fight goes on there’ll all kind of loves,

So I remain under the control of my heart, my mind, and my balls.”



I’m such a tight-ass when it comes to myself. Anyone would think I don’t have any money the way that I live.

Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even own a wine glass. 

That’s right. 

This alcoholic in denial, drank wine out of a Champagne flute for months on end. 

And I only had one Champagne flute. 

I embarrassingly made my girlfriends drink out of a coffee cup when they graced me with their presence. 

My sheer clumsiness had me down to just one flute, and my lack of self-love made me think that that was totally acceptable as a host. 

Mind you, I am impossibly generous when it comes to others. 

Yet, not on myself. 

I have worked really hard to be in the position that I am in, however I live like a little bit of a pauper. 

Which brings me to Spotify.

All I wanted to listen to today on Spotify was that song from that movie “Begin Again” that I watched the other night at the movies. I’m strangely addicted to that song. Because It makes me cry. And I find crying is cathartic at times.

I kept on closing the app until I could get the song up. 

You only get 6 free skips with the free app. 

I frustratingly sat there for a good 10 minutes before I got my wish.

And it made me realise something. 

Like L’oreal tries to preach, I certainly don’t feel as though I’m “worth it”. If I did, I’d just buy the goddamn app.

Which brings me to this morning.

My Dad left me a tool kit at my front door this morning. 

I was overwhelmed by his generosity, and a little embarrassed. I felt like a charity case. In fact, I burst into tears when I realised what he had done for me. Because I didn’t feel as though I was worth the effort.

I don’t own a single tool. My tool kit consists of butter knives and a meat tenderising hammer.

I hate asking anyone for anything. I like to be as self-sufficient and independent as I can possibly be. I am both a combination of being impossibly stubborn, and proud.

I don’t want anyone to know that I stumble, not just sometimes, but all the time, and that I’m attempting to make sense of my strange new life. That I overwhelm myself all the time, and often  question my own sanity.

But like I always say, people see a lot more than you give them credit for. 

Like when my neighbour graciously does chores for me without me knowing. 

Because I refuse his offers of help every single time. 

Or when my friends come and kill spiders for me, being the ridiculous arachnophobic I am. 

Or when they phone, and message me relentlessly when I go into my little cave and cut myself off from the world.

Or yesterday, when my younger sister took me out to lunch, and when she sneakily went to pay the bill. I was beyond embarrassed.

I went to my parents house to visit them today. I actually live in the same street as my parents. Which is so great. I cannot even begin to explain how grateful I am for that. 

However, my Mum started to give me grief over the fact that I’m single. 

“I don’t want you to be alone forever Amy. That’s terrible. You just need someone to talk to you. To understand that you are more than just a beautiful looking girl. That you have a brain. You’re so smart. You can’t sit there like a shrinking violet and be so shy, locking yourself away from the world.”

My Dad piped up now. 

Fathers are funny like that. 

“Just leave her alone.” He said. 

I personally don’t think that my Dad would think that anyone is good enough for me. I’m his baby after all.

I have to admit to myself that I am so scared of letting anyone get close to me.

But back to Spotify.

Now as I attempted to get the track that I wanted on Spotify, the same song kept on coming up. 

“Come Undone” by Robbie Williams. 

As I look for meaning in everything, I listed to the words of that song:

“So unimpressed, but so in awe

So self-aware, so full of shit

So indecisive, so adamant”

And it got me thinking about the walking contradiction that I am. And the fact that a lot of the time, I am running away from my life. 

But isn’t that what so many of us do?

Run away?

Not all of us do it. There’s a lot of us that are happy with their life. 

But a lot of us just aren’t. More than would care to admit.

I got home from my parents house today and I cried. A lot. Particularly because my Mum had noticed that I hadn’t published anything in a while. And I was mad at myself.

I write all the time. Every single day in fact. Yet most of it rarely gets published. Because I don’t deem it good enough. The curse of perfectionism will do that to a writer.

I was having a conversation with a friend today. About running away. 

Because that’s what I’m on the verge of doing. Because I’m fucking over it.

Those of us that are too afraid to pursue our dreams do that. We run away. And sometimes, those of us that are pursuing our dreams do it too.

And sometimes it’s not as obvious as we think. 

I’m going to call a spade a spade here – a lot of people run away by settling into conformity. 

They get married. They have their 2.3 children. Their family car. Their jobs which have nothing to do with the lives they want for themselves, and everything to do with the life they have created for themselves. Or for the life that is expected of them. Out of pure necessity. To the lives that they have unconsciously committed to through their escapism from their passion. 

People might look at someone like me and think I’m completely mad. That I’m like a gypsy who flits from here to there. That doesn’t settle into the predicable life that makes others feel comfortable. That bullshit text book version of how life is “meant” to be.

Yes, I am going against the grain of that bullshit textbook. And whilst I often think I am such a coward, it has taken so much courage to do what I’ve done. To walk away from everything that was expected of me. 

Has it been easy?

No fucking way. 

I feel like I’ve been to hell and back. Several times over. It has fucking sucked a lot of the time. If it weren’t for my girlfriends, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past 7 months.

They say it takes half the time you’ve been in a relationship to get over it. 

I’ve been in a relationship for 20 years, and I’ll be damned if I am going to take another decade to get over my marriage breakdown.

But does that mean that I need to run away?

Maybe. Because hey, whatever gets you to where you need to go right?

I hate to admit it, but I’ve unfortunately come undone.

I’m drinking way too much. Way, way, way too much. I’m chain smoking like a rock star. And I’m not loving Amy.

And until I learn to love myself, I’m not able to love anyone else properly.

So perhaps the best thing for me to do, is to disappear into obscurity, and to get to learn who I am. To learn how to chase Amy properly.

As I conclude this article, I am listening to Sarah McLaughlan. I am listening to her song “Adia”, which is about her marriage breakdown. My own marriage breakdown has destroyed me on so many levels. I am not going to lie and act as though I am unaffected. Because I most certainly am not.

So today, I will leave you with her words:

“I search myself in everyone to see where we went wrong”

I think I need to take another time out, to search where I went wrong, and be able to move forward. Knowing that I made the right decision, as difficult as it may have been, and to learn how to love Amy again. So that perhaps one day in the future, someone else besides my girlfriends can love me too.

I’m desperately waiting for my “knight in shining armour” to come and rescue me, however that’s only true in fairytales. And we all know that fairytales aren’t true. So it’s time to save me from myself.

Because as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve most certainly come undone. 




I counted 25 times where I said “um”. I sound like a footballer being interviewed at the end of a game. Suffice to say I will never be a newsreader. Particularly with that hair. And I’m also speaking at lightning speed as if I’ve just smoked some crack. Can’t explain that one. Shyness overcomes me at times. I am not speaking as clearly and concisely as I would ordinarily. But that’s ok. It’s all about being authentic. Although I do say “fuck”, and “bitch” in this one. Which is tempered by my feminine floral dress…



I went to the supermarket last night in my super cool singlet that is low cut down to my waist.

I wear a strapless bra with it, but the bra is bigger than my breasts so I have some gapeage issues with it.

As I was leaning over to pack my groceries into the bag (I’m a Jedi at the self service checkouts, for anyone that ever has the pleasure of lining up behind me), I felt a cool breeze.

I looked down to notice that my super cool singlet had shifted to the middle of my chest, exposing my bra which had slipped down, and my nipple was on display for everyone to see.

The woman next to me kept clearing her throat. My God. How embarrassing.

I swiftly covered the offending nipple up and continued to pack my groceries at high speed.

I then went into the liquor store and bought a 6 pack of corona. I needed some alcohol to inebriate me in order to recover from the utter humiliation I had just experienced.

“Damn” I said in my head as I approached the counter.

The guy who serves me at least twice a week was behind the counter.

The one who surely thinks I’m an alcoholic.

The one who was also rostered on the night before when I had gone in there and bought a bottle of wine with my girlfriend before we went to dinner. The one who my girlfriend joked with that same night saying I’m an alcoholic.

“I’m not an alcoholic” I told him as I placed the beer on the counter. “I’m a writer. It helps me write.”

“What do you write about?”

How I detest that question.

“Just life.” I responded. God I sounded stupid. Why did I have to even speak to begin with?

It’s funny sometimes how we do stupid things and then feel the need to correct ourselves.

This whole embarrassing event took me back to the other times I’ve attempted to correct the dumb things I’ve done.

Like when I fell over once at the same supermarket in the carpark.

I was walking briskly (I’m a very fast walker), and I decided to take a short cut and walk through the garden.

I don’t know what I tripped on, but I caught my foot on something and fell over in the garden.

From my fellow bystanders I heard gasps and “ooohs” and that sound where people suck the air in through their clenched teeth where they wince up their face in empathic pain.

I quickly got up, and hurried to my car. My foot was killing me, but the humility was infinitely worse. So I walked normally back to my car, holding my breath the whole way.

“Ouuuuuuuccchhhh” I said in a hushed voice as I closed the car door.

I looked down at my foot which was now pissing blood. I think my heart stopped beating for a moment as I carefully inspected to ensure I still had five toes on that foot.

Serves me right for wearing thongs everywhere (flip flops for my non-Australian readers), which my neighbour teases me calling them “Japanese safety boots”.

Or the time I was in a gay bar in West Hollywood.

I went to use the restroom, and on my way out as I was making my way back to the bar, I was suddenly on the floor surrounded by go-go dancers helping me back to my feet.

Someone had spilt a drink on the floor and I had managed to slip on it faster than I even realised what was going on.

The go-go dancers were all like “Are you ok?” concerned I had injured myself. (In fact I did injure myself. I had a bruise on my left upper thigh, arse cheek, and hip for 2 weeks afterwards. I’m sure if if was possible to break your arse, I had done it).

Which I think made it even worse.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine!” I responded cooly, brushing off my embarrassing display of complete clumsiness, thankful that it was dark in there and nobody could see the shade of beetroot red I had turned.

I limped back to my girlfriend who was waiting for me with a cocktail in her hand.

“Here. I bought you another drink.” She told me as she handed it over.

“I think I’ve had enough to drink.” I responded.

She started laughing.

“I know! I saw you fall!”


In life, we sometimes unfortunately have people bear witness to the embarrassing things that happen to us.

But it teaches you to hold your head high, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep on moving forward.

I guess these things tend to happen for a reason too. To remind you to retain your sense of humility, and remember that it happens to the best of us.

So the lesson in today’s article?

Wear appropriate clothing, watch where you’re going, and remember that shit happens.


You know, I am very fond of my friends son. He is 6. He has such a big personality.

I used to think I wasn’t good with kids. But as I’ve gotten older, I seem to have this funny little thing going on.

Because I see them as little people rather than children, I give them the respect they deserve.

I talk to them. I take an interest in what interests them. And they talk back. They are pleased that someone is taking an interest in them. That they can be heard. Isn’t that what we all want? To be heard?

I always sit down and have a little chat with them about everything. I am fascinated with the way they operate.

But my downfall is I laugh all the time when they play up. Often times they are like little drunk people. I guess because I’m not the one that needs to deal with the consequences enable me to be this way.

They laugh at inappropriate times, they cry and yell when they don’t get their own way. They spill food on themselves. They knock over their drink. They throw up all the time. They fall over. They bust into song and dance randomly. And I think it’s hilarious.

The other night at dinner, my friends son in the middle of dinner at the restaurant we were at, stands up and announces loudly “Mum, guess what? I need to do a poo”. I laughed. This made him ham it up even more.

Upon them returning, he said he wants to get up and refill his drink. As he gets up he says with a mischievous look in his eye “hey Amy! Watch this!” He knows he’s going to make me laugh.

He proceeds to walk backwards through the restaurant singing loudly, smiling cheekily at us, and being quite theatrical. Bumping into the tables and he makes his way in reverse to the drink machine. I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s such a stupid thing to do.

My girlfriend shakes her head and can’t also help but laugh. It’s embarrassing and he’s misbehaving, but what can either of us do? Yes, we are encouraging this behaviour, but what do you do?

The time before that when we were out to dinner, he gets up and starts singing the Coles song.

“Down, down, prices are down!” He yells. Complete with his finger pointing down to mimic the ad on TV.

And then I had a thought. This little boy already knows how to deal with women. All it really takes to win a woman over is to make her laugh. And he has the pair of us wrapped around his little finger.

And he is incredibly perceptive too. Because I’m rarely in makeup, I decided to put some on for a change the other day. And that was the first thing he noticed. “You’re wearing makeup” he noted.

It’s nice when the opposite sex notices these things. Even if he’s near three decades my junior. It’s funny how children are instinctively hard-wired to be this way from such a young age.

So I guess today’s blog is about the importance of mutual respect. I respect this little buddy of mine, and he in turn respects me. This is all any of us are after.

And I also think it’s important to not take life so seriously. Learn to embrace your childish innocence. Never lose it. Keep laughing, and learn to accept each person, young or old, for the individual and free spirit they are.