The birth of my fourth decade

I've been thinking about my thirties. About how they started, and how they're about to end. Ten years ago at my thirtieth birthday party, I was bloated from massive doses of steroids I'd had to have earlier in the year due to a serious respiratory virus. I was puffy faced and swollen, and going into my third … Continue reading The birth of my fourth decade

Purple cardigan

A story from my childhood has recently been featured on photographer and multidisciplinary artist Mindy Stricke's website for her 'Grief Landscapes' project. You can find it here. A little about 'Grief Landscapes' ... 'for the initial phase of Grief Landscapes, I’m documenting the unique terrain of people’s grief through photography and a collaborative process with the … Continue reading Purple cardigan

Riding on elephants and other shit I haven’t done

Shot a gun ✔ I did my firearms safety training in January. Be afraid. Very afraid. Gone on a blind date ✔ Oh, the horror. Skipped school ✔ Watched someone give birth ✔✔ My eldest and youngest nephews, now 14 and 9 respectively. It was an absolute honour. Watched someone die ✔✔✔✔ I think I've … Continue reading Riding on elephants and other shit I haven’t done

The power of choice

I made a life altering decision yesterday. I decided that I no longer need to rely on my opiate antagonist therapy. I had planned to stop on my birthday, which just happens to fall on New Year's Eve, but I've been feeling so happy and settled that I knew I could do it. And so I … Continue reading The power of choice

The day I met my donor

I never thought I'd do it. It's been seventeen years, after all. And even if I did do it, I never believed it would be this hard. Mum and I had talked for years about going into Births, Deaths and Marriages to see if we could find her, but today on my own, I went into a quiet room … Continue reading The day I met my donor

The night I lived again: part two

By the time it was definite that the donor lungs were a match, there would have been at least thirty-five people at the hospital – all friends and family. Even a friend’s boyfriend (now husband) had driven down from uni at Gatton, so he could be there for both me, his now wife and my … Continue reading The night I lived again: part two

My night without armour

May-August 1998 I was in the dying room. You know the one. It's quiet. People slip in and out as though they were never there. Festering in a bed for three months, I had grown tired. My arms were the shape of soft baguettes, peppered with freckles like sesame seeds. Lips, a permanent shade of blue. Colourless … Continue reading My night without armour

Learning to Die: my TEDx talk

Yesterday my TEDx talk went live on TEDx Brisbane's YouTube channel, and I've had an almost overwhelming response about speaking about my life (and deaths), and my beliefs and truths about death and dying. Here it is - Learning to Die. I've been bathing in the beautiful waters of Death Walking training over the last two days, the last … Continue reading Learning to Die: my TEDx talk

Monday blues

After not feeling too well throughout the week, I had a magical day on Friday. It was my bestie Bec's birthday, where her husband whipped up some amazing coffee and birthday morning tea treats for us very lucky ladies. There were happy children, friends who I hadn't seen in a long time (I even met … Continue reading Monday blues

The night I lived again: part three

There is beauty in the ordinary. Waking up, making coffee, washing my hair, going to the post office. All ordinary things made extra-ordinary because I am here to do them. I woke early and watched the moon sink and the sun rise. The east screamed tangerine and the sun pierced the thin veil of sky … Continue reading The night I lived again: part three