Broken hearts have been around since mankind first walked out of the primordial slump. But for all the long and painful history of heartbreaks, there is still no tried and tested formula for navigating something that is so deeply personal and individual for every person.
Read MoreDepending on which of the nine different eating disorders is the primary issue, we may have to eat more or less food, more or less frequently, or different food altogether. But as food is an essential survival tool, at the end of the day, we have to eat.
Read MoreToday my friend, I want to talk about grief. This is a hard story to write but let me start at the beginning.
Read MoreJanuary 28 will forever be a memorable day in my life. It is the day my mother was born. And it is the day my father died.
Read MoreFor much of my life, I was driven and busy and energetic and doing shit all the time. I didn’t sleep. I ate a lot. All my spare time filled up with mothering or wifeing or friending or working or volunteering. It was a fairly typical life for someone in their thirties and forties. Then I imploded and everything changed.
Read MoreOver the weeks and months and years of my healing journey, I have heard the word ‘boundaries’ whispered in my ear countless times. Although, sometimes it’s less of a whisper and more of a fish wife’s guttural screech, echoing around the chambers of my people-pleasing brain.
Read MoreI take up space in this world and I don’t like it. I am wired to the core of my being to […]
Read MoreI did a hard thing. Well… It was hard for me. Perhaps you would find it easy. Or impossible. Perhaps like me […]
Read MoreWell a wedding is one thing, but discovering a little piece of Indonesia that rarely sees foreigners is a whole other exciting […]
Read MoreI am so proud, excited and overwhelmed to share the story of my son’s marriage with you. It has been an exciting […]
Read MoreI have made it abundantly clear since I started sharing my story with you, that I have an eating disorder. Or should I say, I had an eating disorder. I have been pursuing recovery since I first graced the doorstep of my psychologist in 2015 and I can say with absolute certainty that I have reached a very happy place when it comes to my relationship with food.
Read MoreMy house was spotless when I was growing up. I can take no credit for this – my mother was a meticulous […]
Read MoreThe things we take for granted . . . I have experienced a great deal of privilege in my life. I am […]
Becoming a grandma brings back all those beautiful memories of becoming a mum. Being a new mum brought me – without a doubt – the happiest times of my life. I love newborn babies.
My mother swore by the old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I’ve found for many things, absence makes the heart grow fearful. When I’m away from loved ones for any length of time I miss them and feel an even stronger sense of love and longing when we’re reunited (usually). But when I let go of the daily routines of my life, it’s much harder to reestablish habits. I develop a crisis of confidence.
A story for those who are long-recovered or want to understand more about the origins of eating disorders. For family members of those suffering. For women who have ever been worried about their appearance and how they fit into society. The unpleasant sexual experiences almost universally experienced by women. And the ongoing impact of childhood emotional neglect by parents who hoped to do their best but severely lacked the skills to raise happy children.
Living with mental illness is a shit. Whether that illness comes from nature or nurture is neither here nor there. Through the course of the illness, you learn ways to manage distress and those ways are frequently unproductive. Often numbing.
I feel ashamed. I always feel ashamed. Of something or other. I have come to the realisation that not everybody feels this overwhelming and constant level of shame.
Diet culture espouses thinness as a ticket to beauty and happiness. As someone who has lived in almost every sized body, I can assure you that my happiness was not impacted by a number on a scale. Something I need to remind myself of when I’m fighting the urge to skip breakfast.
I have to say, 2021 was kind to me. While 01 January is just an arbitrary date nevertheless, we wrap boundaries around dates and look for patterns. It is the way it is.
These past few months I have felt so exceptionally well. I am not sure if this is just a natural progression of psychological recovery combined with pharmacological support. Or if I’m just living in this deluded bubble of happiness because all my cards seem to be turning up trumps right now. But either way, I feel really well. Really, really well.
I wrote a book. You’ve probably heard me banging on about it over the past few months. Years even. But now we’re at the pointy end of the process.
My mood has become extremely stable in recent months, which is apparently an aim of recovery in bipolar II disorder. No big highs. No big lows. But the other thing that happens without highs and lows is mood becomes very flat. And that, I do not like.
You know how bad news comes in runs of three? That’s my superstition at any rate… Well apparently good news can do the same thing.
Today I bought new clothes. It might sound like a frivolous way to spend a Thursday afternoon, but for me, it was a big deal. It marks a line in the sand.
People, let me assure you, I am an A Grade catastrophiser. I have it down to a fine art. Not only can I turn molehills into mountains, I can turn little green caterpillars into fire breathing dragons.
I’m taking one foot forward – literally and metaphorically. At the end of September, I saw an advertisement by the Black Dog Institute (good job marketing team) about an October challenge to raise awareness for mental health research. Given my five years of mental illness, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to dip my toes in the challenge waters.
