Creative failures

Somehow, I have put the being able to get pregnant book with the being successful book In the same bookshelf The problem with them being on the same shelf is; when I pull them out to look at them, all I see are the failures and all I feel is bottom-of-the-ocean-level sadness. I’ve sharpened the point of the pencil enough to recognise Both books represent not being good enough. Now


When I was 25 I had a termination.  There were a lot of factors that brought me to make that decision.  And it was the right decision for me at that time.  I was not ready to bring a human life into mine and the partnership I was in was not a healthy one.  What I did not realise at the time was that, whether I had the baby or

Sitting with the yucky bits

Over the last few years it has been highlighted to me that I have some pretty ugly bits. Bits which, I assume, for my own desperate need for acceptance and love, I have attempted to justify when threatened. I have rallied troops with my cunning intellect to make me right and others wrong. It’s a pretty deeply ingrained habit. It used to be easier to manage because, as I said,

To be a teacher…

Are you aboriginal? Yes. How did you know? I told my mum that you were vegan and anti-vax and she said you must be aboriginal. That was very offensive. I didn’t mean to offend you. Well you did. Well I didn’t mean to. No apology…but yes.  Awareness of the discomfort he has caused.  Regret and shame, oh I feel it.  It radiates from him. And for so long I wished


It so familiar This rabbit hole of nostalgia Consuming. The person you have been Or should we say The people… Because you have been so many people. And you have had so many friends over the years Come and go Stay Disappear and you’ve left people behind. You are constantly attempting to measure your ordinariness You fear it Creep around corners as if awaiting it’s approach The inevitability of it

childish adulting

You keep thinking about how it wasn’t supposed to go this way How, You were one of them once. Full of potential and dreams and ideas bigger than yourself And now your just desperately grasping at their hopes and dreams Except you are scornful You are bitter Somehow you have ended up in the exact position you always feared Living with your in-laws Working full-time With a fistful of broken

It’s not even about him

It’s coming from me From my ancestors lives stretching thousands of years before this one from billions of women in the collective consciousness right now as we shake off the dream that was the patriarchy we will not live a life of servitude we will not go quietly gracefully And we have been building this voice gradually and I hear it in my head Rage itches in very cell limbs

words and other words

How much I have changed in what feels like such a short time is unnecessary to explain as I write this blog for myself and hope that only the blind read my words and cannot trace them back to me I am closing in on 30 and with each day that passes find myself dissolving into something I always longed for as a teenager I was so certain of myself


I feared for so long that I might somehow become ordinary that in so many ways I became ordinary it is my wonder of life that sets me apart and lack of fear that defined me uniquely my own star shape in a universe of spectacular lights and its only recently That I let myself believe the same things everyone else accepts as truth and how I’ve found the colour

Down Down Down

Suffocated by my own breath I lean into his shoulder ‘I’m so tired,’ I say. He tells me it’s normal That it’s been like this a long time that the ghosts of our past are designed to drag us into murky pools of pain that we were born to suffer through it ‘But I don’t want to suffer anymore,’ I whimper. ‘Then just let go.’ he smiles. And that is