The Trio & Me

From trauma to triumph

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For almost forty years, my life was shaped by trauma — the kind that settles into your bones and teaches you to survive instead of live. But survival is not the end of the story. Not mine, and not my children’s. This blog begins in the year before I turn forty, the year I finally decided to change the ending. I made a choice: To right what I could, release what I couldn’t, and rebuild what was broken. To stop shrinking from my own life and start shaping it. To heal — deeply, honestly, and fully — not just for me, but for my three children who have walked through every storm beside me. They are my reasons to rise. My three small suns in a sky that has seen too many clouds.
  • 40 Things to Do Before I Turn 40 (11) 

    40 Things to Do Before I Turn 40 (11) 

    11. Try a New Recipe Each Month This Year

    I’ve had a complicated relationship with food for most of my life. While I now genuinely enjoy cooking for the people I love, experimenting with recipes, and creating comforting meals, my relationship with food hasn’t always been a positive one.

    During my teenage years, while living in youth homeless shelters and housing commission units, food was survival. There wasn’t always regular access to meals, and often the only food available came from food banks or charity vouchers – $30 a week is all I had. I learnt very early how to make meals out of almost nothing – plain rice and frozen mixed vegetables became a very normal dinner.

    And when there wasn’t food, I drank black tea. Even now, I still can’t smell tea without feeling an intense  sense of déjà vu attached to those years.

    When I entered adulthood and started working, food became more accessible, but my relationship with it shifted in unhealthy ways. I started binge eating and became quite wasteful with food – almost as though having access to it suddenly meant I didn’t know how to regulate it anymore. And I ate all of the unhealthy foods. Now food became something I spent more money on each week than rent and other bills.

    When I became a parent, being able to consistently provide healthy and nutritious meals for my children became something I felt incredibly proud of. I worked really hard to role model good eating habits. And even though they’ve always had stability around food, the scars from my own experiences never fully disappeared. Somewhere along the way, I found comfort in unhealthy eating habits myself.

    I would “sneak” cheeseburgers in the car on the way home from work, before sitting down to dinner with the kids later that night. After they went to bed, I would binge eat simply for the sake of eating – not from hunger, but from something emotional that I didn’t understand. I felt dirty the more I ate, but I couldn’t stop myself from eating.

    Through therapy, I’ve recently learnt just how deeply food insecurity sits on my trigger list. Working through this with my psychologist using EMDR therapy has been incredibly life-changing, helping me process experiences I didn’t even realise were still driving so many of my behaviours.

    For me, food has been many things – survival, comfort, distraction, connection. But without healthy boundaries, I’ve often used it in ways that were never nourishing me.

    While I do have weight loss goals that I’m working toward, this item on my list isn’t really about dieting. It’s about repairing my relationship with food.

    So this year, I’m trying one new recipe every month – learning to bring joy back into healthy eating again, finding balance, and building a healthier understanding of moderation and nourishment.

    So far, we’ve tried a few viral recipes that the kids have absolutely loved. And honestly, that’s been one of the best parts – creating healthier relationships with food together while being a little adventurous along the way.

    I wouldn’t say I’m fully healed yet, but I am making intentional steps toward building strong and consistent habits. Habits that ensure food is no longer something I use to punish myself with, but something that nourishes me – and something connected to joy, connection, and the conversations shared around the dinner table.

    🤍 K

  • 40 Things to Do Before I Turn 40 (10)

    40 Things to Do Before I Turn 40 (10)

    10. Write a blog

    Writing a blog was originally something I planned to do at the very end of this journey. The idea was that once the year was over, once I’d done the healing and processed all the emotions, I would sit down and release it all in one final piece.

    But somewhere along the way, the words started arriving earlier than expected.

    The more intentional I became with my routines, my healing, and the changes I was making in my life, the more I found myself writing. Entire blog posts would form in my head while driving, walking, or lying awake at night – almost as though I was trying to explain to myself why I was doing all of this in the first place.

    It wasn’t some huge, dramatic awakening. It was quieter than that.

    I just noticed that once I started putting the words down, they kept flowing.

    I filled handwritten notebooks with thoughts and reflections. I typed endlessly. In spare moments, I’d open the notes app on my phone and quickly write down whatever was sitting on my heart before it disappeared again. My voice memo folder started overflowing with ideas – reflections, processing, reckonings with myself that I could no longer keep quiet in my own mind.

    This blog is very honest, very open, and very me.

    It has become part of the way I’m moving forward in life – intentionally creating distance between myself and old memories, old versions of me, and feelings I no longer want to carry in silence. Writing has been cathartic. My trauma feels less trapped inside my body when it exists on paper instead.

    I’ve also been incredibly supported throughout this process by my beautiful psychologist, who gently reminds me to feel the feelings, honour them, but then put them down again instead of living inside them forever.

    This blog is part of something bigger that I’m quietly working toward and hoping to finish this year too. But for now, these are simply my musings – pieces of myself scattered across pages.

    I don’t expect my words to heal anyone else or change lives in some dramatic way. This is ultimately for me. But if someone reads it and feels seen, understood, or a little less alone, then that’s a beautiful bonus too.

    We’re officially a quarter of the way through my 40 things now – still so much more to come.

    But if there’s one thing this process is teaching me, it’s that consistency and intentionality really do change a life, little by little.

    🤍 K

  • 40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (9)

    40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (9)

    9. Get a new Tattoo

    This one doesn’t come with a deep, emotional backstory. There’s no big meaning, no life-altering moment behind it – I just wanted a new tattoo.

    And honestly, that in itself felt like enough.

    These little dinosaurs are now my 13th tattoo, and the truth is, I chose them simply because they’re cute. No overthinking, no analysing, no searching for symbolism – I just liked them.

    Which, for me, is a bit of a shift. Because most of my other tattoos carry meaning. I have my children’s  names as monograms, pieces that represent different stages of my life, a cover-up of a tattoo I got at 17 that definitely didn’t age well, my favourite flower – (peonies for anyone who wants to buy me flowers 😂) and even a “tiny dancer,” inspired by my favourite singer. 

    Each one tells a story. But not this one.  This one is different.

    When I created my “40 things to do before 40” list, I knew there were going to be heavy, emotional, and meaningful things on it – things that required reflection, growth, and healing. But I also knew that I needed balance.

    I didn’t want the whole list to feel like work. I wanted space for fun. For spontaneity. For doing things just because I could, without needing to justify it or talk myself out of it. And that’s exactly what this was.

    A complete whim. A walk-in appointment, which is something I’ve never done before, I have a regular tattoo artist who has done all my other pieces.  There was no planning, no long decision-making process – just a moment of “why not?”

    My kids did choose the dinosaurs, which adds a small layer of meaning in itself, but even that wasn’t the point. The point was letting go a little. Letting go of the need for everything to be deep or purposeful. Letting go of overthinking. Letting myself do something a little bit silly, a little bit impulsive, and completely just for me.

    Because not everything has to carry weight to be worthwhile. Sometimes, it’s okay to just have fun.

    So here they are – my slightly ridiculous, very cute dinosaurs. A reminder that life doesn’t always have to be so serious… and that sometimes, the best decisions are the ones you don’t overthink at all.

    🤍 K 

  • 40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (8)

    40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (8)

    8. Write a will

    In 2019, after years of persistent period pain and what was meant to be a routine check, I was told I had precancerous cells growing in my uterus.

    What followed for the next 2 years was uncertainty, fear, and constant medical intervention. Every three months, I underwent surgeries to have the cells removed, hoping each time that it would be enough. But with each procedure came the same outcome – more cells, they were multiplying. 

    By 2021, the situation had escalated. The cells had not only multiplied through my uterus, after being removed just 3 months prior, but they had now begun moving to my cervix, and the only option left was a hysterectomy.

    At just 36 It was a lot to carry. I didn’t have any frame of reference, I didn’t understand what it all meant. 

    Through every surgery, every appointment, every moment of waiting, there was one thought that never really left me: What would happen to my kids if something happened to me? That question stayed with me long after the surgeries were over.

    The hysterectomy went well, I quietly battled the thought I couldn’t have anymore children, but I made peace with it. 

    In the years that followed, health anxiety became something I quietly battled. Every symptom felt bigger than it was, every change in my body carried weight, and my mind would often spiral to the worst-case scenario before I had time to ground myself in reality.

    And always, I came back to the same thought—
    I don’t have a will.

    Last year, while writing my “40 things to do before 40” list, that thought became louder. It wasn’t something I could keep putting off. It sat there, heavy and unresolved, tied not just to fear – but to responsibility. I couldn’t put it off, because if something ever did happen to me, I needed to know that my children would be okay.

    At the start of this year, those fears resurfaced in a very real way. I began experiencing constant headaches, along with vertigo so intense that at times it was difficult to even walk. What started as concern quickly escalated into a series of medical appointments—brain CT scans, blood tests, new medications—all within a short space of time.  I couldn’t keep up, to everything that was happening.  Even my GP was concerned, because the symptoms were real, physical, and persistent.

    And in between all of that, there was the waiting.

    Sitting alone in medical waiting rooms, waiting for tests, waiting for results, waiting for my name to be called, waiting for answers. Those moments felt incredibly heavy. The silence gave too much space for my thoughts to run, and I found myself spiralling deeper into fear.

    It didn’t help that people around me were also facing serious health battles, and some losing them. The things I was being tested for were no longer abstract – they were real, and close, and confronting.

    I would sit there, overwhelmed, thinking about my children. Worrying about their future. Wondering who would be there for them. Thinking about how they would cope—emotionally, physically, financially.

    Thankfully, I came out the other side of it. I’m okay. I’m managing things with the support of medication, and I remind myself every day that I’m okay – because sometimes that reassurance is the only thing that quiets the noise in my mind.

    Health anxiety is very real. It’s often misunderstood, sometimes dismissed, and too easily labelled. But until you experience how it takes hold of your thoughts, your body, and your nervous system, it’s hard to fully explain the weight of it. But in the middle of all of that, I did something important. I wrote my will.

    It wasn’t as overwhelming as I had built it up to be. In fact, once it was done, it brought a sense of relief I didn’t realise I needed. It’s something I’ll continue to update as life changes and as my children’s needs evolve, but having it in place has taken away a layer of fear that had been sitting quietly in the background for years. It gave me space to breathe.

    It’s one less “what if” sitting on the pile of things that feel unfinished.

    And more than anything, it gave me a sense of security – knowing that I’ve done something to protect my children and their future, no matter what.

    If there’s one thing I would say to anyone reading this, it’s this:

    • Take the time.
    • Protect your family.
    • Protect what you’ve built.
    • Give yourself that peace of mind

    It’s easy to do – and it’s incredibly important to have in place! 

    🤍 K 

  • 40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (7)

    40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (7)

    7. Child free time with my mum friends (social connections)

    Whilst reflecting and writing my “40 things to do before I turn 40” list, one thing kept coming up again and again – social time.

    It’s something that, for a long time, I didn’t prioritise, not because I didn’t value it, but because life naturally pulled me in other directions.

    As a single mum raising my children on my own, my focus has always been on them – on making sure they were safe, supported, and had everything they needed to grow into who they are becoming. Between working, parenting, and carrying the full weight of responsibility day in and day out, there often wasn’t much left to give beyond that.

    I am incredibly fortunate to have some truly amazing friends who have stood by me through all of my seasons of life, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. These are the people who have seen the real, unfiltered version of me, who have held space for me when things were heavy, and who have celebrated with me in the moments that mattered.

    But if I’m being honest, social connection has been one of the hardest things for me to maintain.

    Since becoming a mum almost 19 years ago, it was one of the first things to quietly fall away. Time, energy, and capacity became limited, and naturally, my children became my priority in every sense of the word.

    Being naturally introverted has also played a part. I have always found social situations overwhelming at times, and forming new connections hasn’t come easily to me. Add in social anxiety, my “tism’s,” and the constant pull of responsibility, and over time my circle became smaller.

    But it also became more intentional, more meaningful, and deeply valued.

    The friendships I have – whether they were formed through motherhood, through different stages of my life, or completely separate from it – are all equally important to me. And while my circle may not be large, it is filled with people who I genuinely care about and want to stay connected to.

    This year, I have made a conscious effort not only to maintain those friendships, but to nurture them.

    That means regular messages, check-ins, making time for calls, and being more intentional about showing up, even in small ways. Because connection doesn’t always have to be big or planned- it can be found in consistency, in effort, and in simply letting someone know they matter.

    Last year, I made one small but significant step in creating space for connection in my life.

    I reached out to two incredible women I met over 11 years ago, back when our kids first started playing netball together, and I asked if they would be open to committing to something simple but consistent – a monthly catch-up. A dedicated time where we could step away from the demands of motherhood, work, and everyday life, and just spend time together.

    Thankfully for me, they said yes.

    And that one small decision has turned into something really special.

    So far this year, we’ve shared cocktail brunches, slow breakfasts, and nights out filled with laughter, with many more plans still to come. It’s not about doing anything extravagant, but about the consistency of showing up – for each other and for ourselves.

    That once-a-month time has become something I genuinely look forward to, because it gives me space to reconnect with who I am outside of being a mum, outside of work, and outside of the responsibilities that usually define my days.

    It’s a reminder that I am allowed to just be. To laugh, to relax, to talk about things beyond schedules and to-do lists, and to feel like one of the girls again.

    What started as a simple connection through our children’s sport has grown into a beautiful and supportive friendship, one that feels grounded, easy, and genuine.

    And alongside that, I am continuing to nurture the other friendships in my life – the ones that have been there through different chapters, and continue to grow alongside me.

    Because connection, in all its forms, matters. And I truly couldn’t feel luckier to have that in my life.

    🤍 K

  • 40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (6)

    40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (6)

    6. Be part of all of the kids big milestones this year

    This year feels big for all of us. Not just in small, everyday ways – but in the kind of moments that mark change, growth, and the quiet realisation that time is moving forward whether we’re ready or not.

    For our little family, this year holds some incredible milestones.

    Mia has officially stepped into adulthood, and with that comes a whole new world of responsibility, independence, and navigating life in a way that feels both exciting and overwhelming at times. Watching her take those steps has been emotional in ways I didn’t quite expect, because it feels like just yesterday she was small – and now she’s out there building her own life.

    Mace is in his final year of primary school, which feels like such a significant transition. There’s so much excitement in that, but also a lot of growth behind the scenes. Living with Autism, ADHD, and Apraxia of Speech means his journey has required a level of support that goes far beyond the typical, with countless therapies and consistent work to help him build the skills he needs to communicate and understand the world around him. And yet, through all of that, his progress, his resilience, and his determination continue to amaze me.

    And then there’s Emily.

    This year, I’ve watched her step into a new level of independence that has made me both incredibly proud and a little emotional. She got her licence, bought her first car, and has started to explore the world beyond our home in her own way, on her own terms. (And with a lot of nerves from me 😅)

    For our family, these moments are everything.

    Because for me, growing up was very different. I didn’t get my licence until I was 23, and that only came after saving up and paying for lessons myself, because there was no one there to teach me or guide me through it. There were so many milestones I had to navigate alone, figuring things out as I went without the support that I now get to give my own children.

    And that’s something I never take for granted.

    Being in a position where I can support my kids, help them achieve their goals, nurture their interests, and stand beside them through these defining moments is something that means more to me than I can fully put into words.

    I have always tried to be present – through every school assembly, every parent-teacher interview, every moment that mattered, no matter how big or small.

    But this year feels different.

    Emily is finishing high school, which marks the end of 13 years of early mornings, packed lunches, school drop-offs and pick-ups, and all the little routines that quietly shape family life. And as that chapter comes to a close, I find myself feeling an overwhelming sense of pride and gratitude that I have been able to be there through it all.

    So while this goal – being part of my kids’ milestones – is something I have always strived to do, this year holds a deeper significance. Because we are all stepping into something new, together.

    There is so much to celebrate, so many memories to create, and so much love and joy to share as a family.

    And as I look ahead – not just to the rest of this year, but to the years beyond – I feel a sense of excitement for everything still to come. 

    I can’t wait to see what the next 40 years bring. And I can’t wait to keep showing up for every milestone still ahead.

    🤍 K

  • 40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (5)

    40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (5)

    5. Celebrate Mia’s journey into adulthood

    Parenting has never felt straightforward to me. There was no example of what healthy parenting looked like, no guidance to fall back on, and no reassurance to quiet the constant, underlying fear that I wasn’t doing enough.

    That fear has followed me into motherhood.

    It has shown up as anxiety, as pressure, and as that quiet but persistent voice that questions whether I am enough, whether I am getting it right, and whether I am giving my children what they truly need.

    As my eldest approached adulthood, I’ve found myself reflecting more deeply on my own journey at that age. At 18, I was navigating the world completely alone, without support, direction, or a sense of stability. At the time, I didn’t fully recognise what I was missing, but looking back now, I can see how that lack of guidance led me down paths that were shaped by survival rather than self-worth.

    I turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms, found myself in toxic relationships, and began building a life that could have had very different – and far more devastating – outcomes.

    When I fell pregnant, I was in the middle of that spiral. I was only 20 years old, in a very dark place, and I genuinely didn’t know how I could be a mother, let alone raise a child. In that space, I made a silent promise to myself – one that is hard to even put into words now – that I wouldn’t make it past her 18th birthday.

    At the time, I believed that once she reached adulthood, she wouldn’t need me anymore. I thought my role would be complete, and that maybe my presence in the world wouldn’t matter beyond that point.

    But life has a way of changing you.

    Over the years, those thoughts slowly faded, replaced by something much stronger. The love my children have given me has reshaped the way I see myself and my place in this world. It has shown me, in ways I can’t fully explain, that I am needed – not just in their childhood, but in every stage of their lives.

    And so, I made a new promise.

    To be here for all of it.

    To be present, to grow, to heal, and to continue showing up – not perfectly, but wholeheartedly.

    So here we are.

    Mia is 18.

    And despite everything we have both navigated – individually and together – I could not be more proud of the young woman she is becoming. Her strength, her resilience, and her ability to move through the world in her own way is something I admire deeply.

    We have celebrated this milestone, and I will continue to celebrate her – not just today, but in all the years to come.

    Cocktails – and nights out – truly make me feel “middle age” 😅

    Our accompany track: straight from 86’ – Bananarama: Venus

    🤍 K

  • 40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (4)

    40 Things to do – Before I turn 40 (4)

    4. Prioritise Me!

    As part of my “40 things to do before I turn 40,” one of the very first intentions I set for myself was something that sounds simple, but feels incredibly complex when I try to put it into practice – and that is learning how to truly prioritise me.

    Between working full-time and raising three children on my own, my days are filled with constant demands, responsibilities, and the feeling of being needed in every direction all at once, which often leaves very little room for me to pause, reflect, or even consider what I might need in any given moment.

    For most of my life, I have measured my worth by how much I can give, how much I can carry, and how well I can hold everything together, and somewhere along the way I convinced myself that if I wasn’t giving one hundred percent of myself to absolutely every area of my life, then I was somehow falling short or failing altogether.

    Because of that belief, I have pushed myself beyond my limits more times than I can count, pouring everything I had into my work, into raising my children, and into my relationships, often without stopping to ask whether I actually had anything left to give.

    I have always struggled with boundaries, not because I didn’t understand them intellectually, but because setting them felt uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and at times even unsafe, as though saying no or stepping back might somehow take something away from the people around me or reflect something lacking within me.

    Over time, that way of living has come at a cost, and I have felt it not just emotionally and physically, but relationally as well.

    The toll on my relationships has been real.

    I have found myself needing a partner who can truly see me – not just the version of me that holds everything together, but the one underneath it all. The one who is tired, overwhelmed, and still healing. I haven’t needed someone to fix me, but rather someone who can sit beside me in the mess, hold my hand through it, and create a space where I don’t feel like I have to be “on” all the time.

    At times, my traumas have made that difficult. At times my inner critic, has made me believe that I am not worthy of that support that I greatly craved.

    The same survival patterns that helped me get through the hardest seasons of my life have also shown up in my relationships in ways that have created distance, misunderstanding, and strain. When you are constantly in a state of overgiving, overthinking, or protecting yourself, it can be hard to fully let someone in or allow yourself to be supported in the way you actually need. And that has taken a toll.

    Through therapy, I have started to understand that these patterns are not random, nor are they personal failings, but rather deeply rooted survival responses that were developed during times in my life where giving everything was not a choice, but a way to cope and to get through.

    Being diagnosed with CPTSD has helped me begin to make sense of so many of the things I experience, from the constant sense of alertness in my nervous system, to the moments of dissociation, to the underlying need to prove my worth and seek validation, even when I am already doing more than enough.

    When I reflect on my parenting, I can also see how my past has shaped the way I show up for my children, because I didn’t grow up with a consistent sense of family or a clear blueprint for what healthy boundaries looked like, which means I have been learning in real time, doing the best I can with what I have, and trying to create something different for them.

    This year, however, I made a conscious decision to start shifting that pattern, not in a dramatic or overwhelming way, but through small, intentional choices that allow me to reconnect with myself and begin to regulate my nervous system in ways that feel safe and supportive.

    I have started carving out moments just for me, whether that looks like sitting down for a solo breakfast without rushing (side note: breakfast is my most favourite meal of the day!), having a quiet coffee in the park, booking a massage, or spending time at the beach where I can listen to the waves, breathe, reflect, and feel grounded again. 

    These moments might seem small from the outside, but for me they represent something much bigger, because they are teaching me that I am allowed to exist beyond my responsibilities, and that rest is not something I have to earn through exhaustion.

    Prioritising me does not mean that I care any less about my children, my work, or the people in my life, but rather that I am finally learning to include myself in the same level of care, attention, and compassion that I have always given so freely to others.

    As I continue through my “40 things before 40,” this next step is not about getting it perfect or suddenly having it all figured out, but about committing to the process of change, which means setting small boundaries, taking small steps, and slowly building habits that feel sustainable rather than overwhelming.

    I am learning that I can say no without guilt, that I can step back without failing, and that my worth is not defined by how much I give, but by who I am, even in the moments where I choose to rest.

    This is what prioritising me looks like right now, and while it is still a work in progress, it is one of the most important things I have ever chosen to do for myself.

    🤍 K

  • 40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (3)

    40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (3)

    3. Travel to a different country

    Travelling once felt like a luxury that didn’t belong to me.

    As a young single mum, it was something I quietly tucked away under “maybe one day.” I had big dreams of seeing the world, but the reality was very different. We rarely made it out of our town—let alone out of the state. Life was about survival, stability, and doing whatever I could to give my kids what they needed.

    But that dream never really left me.

    I always held onto this vision—of my children experiencing more than I did. Of them seeing the world, feeling it, remembering it. I wanted them to be young enough to share those moments with me, but old enough to carry the memories… to look back one day and remember the stamps in their passports and the life we built together.

    And then one day last year, on a complete whim—with no overthinking, no planning spiral—I just did it.

    I booked the trip.

    What followed was something I once thought was out of reach. We spent 10 incredible nights on a Carnival cruise through the South Pacific, travelling to Vanuatu and New Caledonia. We snorkelled in crystal-clear water, hiked through beautiful landscapes, laughed, explored, and created memories I know will stay with us forever.

    There was something really powerful about being there. Not just because of where we were – but because of what it represented.

    A full-circle moment.

    From feeling like the world was too far away… to standing in it with my children beside me.

    To be able to give my kids a life I once only dreamed of isn’t something I take lightly. It’s the goal. And slowly, piece by piece – we’re getting there.

    With more travel plans to come in the future – I am forever blessed that finally, I am at a point in my life – where I can make it happen!

    🤍 K

  • 40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (2)

    40 things to do – Before I turn 40 (2)

    2. Teach my children about charities that mean something to me and our family!

    I was 16 years old when I was kicked out of home. After years of trauma, abuse, and experiences that are still hard to put into words, I suddenly found myself without a place to go. No safety net. No family to fall back on. Just… gone.

    Trauma stole my youth – instead of being a child, I was learning to survive. 

    I moved between homeless shelters, and sleeping on friends couches – while trying to finish high school. Those years were some of the darkest of my life.

    There’s a particular kind of loneliness that comes with being that young and completely on your own. No guidance, no emotional support, no one to help you make sense of what you’ve been through – only the constant pressure of figuring out how to get through the next day.

    And somehow, I did. Without support, without direction, I picked myself up and did what I needed to do to survive. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t easy. But it was necessary.

    What followed through this fight to survive, were then years I now understand more clearly – years spent in abusive relationships. When chaos is familiar, it doesn’t always feel like something to run from. It can feel like something you unconsciously return to.

    Until one day, something shifted. I became a parent. And with that came a line I was no longer willing to let anyone cross.

    I made the decision to leave – not just for me, but to protect my children. To give them something I never had: safety. And once more, I did it alone.

    I moved. I rebuilt. I created stability where there had been none. I worked through my healing in the only ways I knew how at the time. Not because I didn’t need help – but because I didn’t know where to find it.

    I didn’t know what support existed. I didn’t have the education or awareness to understand what I had been through, or what I deserved access to. So I just kept going, doing the best I could with what I had.

    Now, as a parent, my role is clear. I am my children’s safe place.

    But more than that, I want them to grow up knowing something I didn’t: that support exists, and they are allowed to access it. That they don’t have to do everything alone. That asking for help is not weakness – it’s strength.

    Recently, I came across Share the Dignity through social media. And it stopped me. Because this is something I could have used – more than once – throughout my life.

    This organisation provides essential items to women, children, and teenagers affected by domestic violence. Things many people take for granted – basic hygiene products, clean essentials – for someone arriving at a refuge, often with nothing but the clothes on their back. That first night in safety matters. And having even the smallest sense of dignity in that moment matters too.

    So I used it as an opportunity. An opportunity to teach my children not just about hardship – but about compassion. About giving back. About recognising that even small acts can make a real difference in someone else’s life.

    Together, we went shopping, and put together a bag of essential items and donated it at Bunnings Warehouse, who were collecting donations in November.

    It was simple. But it was meaningful.

    Because in that moment, I wasn’t just giving back – I was gently healing a part of myself that once went without. Slowly, quietly, and in ways that feel safe… I am learning that healing doesn’t always come from looking back.

    Sometimes, it comes from what we choose to do next. To acknowledge your past, but to stand tall and look to your future – and support those less fortunate. 

    🤍 K