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My Moments
The Untethered Life
I’m tethered to nothing. My life is a series of “yet anothers”. Yet another career, yet another town, yet another time I’m leaving it all behind to go live on a wing and a prayer somewhere. An unanchored ship adrift through the possibilities. A mind always thinking about the next new life experience, restless when things stay the same for too long. A life that some may deem Juvenile. Risky. Irresponsible. To that I say: Yes. Yes. And Yes. I come from a culture that doesn’t always respect when people stray from the established formula. But I also come from two parents who dared to dream differently for me, who championed my decisions that went against the grain. That was all the validation I needed. And though they’re gone now, I like to think they would be proud that my life turned out the way I chose and not the way society dictates. With parents gone, no family of my own, and very little to my name, it’s simpler to float through life and adapt to new environments. It’s made me much less sentimental about things and places. Free time and new experiences are the currency I value, and would rather spend all day having meaningful conversations than chasing after material things. There are some bits of my life that I lived by design. But the best bits of my life were lived by accident. By design, I chose freedom over permanence. I rented instead of purchased. I invested in a solid education and leveraged that to open professional doors while I wandered from place to place. By accident, I stumbled into careers and towns I’d never imagined, meeting people who would become a friend, a resource or a stepping stone to the next chapter. I became the woman who could be here today and gone tomorrow. Gathering no moss but instead gathering friendships and memories. And that’s what my untethered life has largely been - my own version of a modern nomadic lifestyle. With few ties, a lot of movement and the reassurance that no matter what shape or form my life currently takes, it’s going to change again soon. Pros and cons? Pro: I don’t fear the future. I’ve become very calm. I put all of my trust in God to guide me while I just enjoy the ride. Con: I would give anything to have my parents back - to have that one tether. Just that one.
My Mother
The Greatest Compliment I've Ever Received
“You remind me of your mother” She’s been gone for more than two decades but her memory and legacy lives on. Those who knew her during her all too short life still speak about her. I’ve come to realise that no one has forgotten the way she made them feel seen, heard and valued. Everyone remembers her charity work, her sharp wit and her creativity for art, craft, drama and music. Her funeral became a long tribute to all the things she was involved in, her huge impact in the community and all the people she’d helped through her lifetime. So when, many years later, I began hearing people say “you remind me of your mother”, I took it as the greatest compliment. It’s usually accompanied by an intense stare directly into my eyes, an unmistakable sign they’re seeing some characteristic in me that they recognise. This photo hung in our family home for many years and one day after her passing, a visitor mistook it for a photo of me. What an honour to be mistaken for my beautiful mother. But beyond appearances, I’m humbled to think that who I am as a person has been so shaped and influenced by who she was. She was my best friend with whom I would sit and talk for hours about life. Gentle, yet firm, self sacrificial and intuitive. I cherish the thought that some see a glimpse of my mother in me. Now, when I hear “you remind me of your mother”, I see it as a blessing and a responsibility - to carry forward her legacy and to leave a similar imprint on the world.
My Church - St. Thomas'
The Safe Space
I didn’t set out to become a safe space for others - it happened because I struggled to find one for myself. *Being Judgmental* I often feel the sting of sarcasm, passive aggression and outright judgment. It’s the feeling that whatever I just said is now being scrutinised and picked apart, with the aim of placing me on the back foot to defend myself. It’s the questioning of what I’m wearing, the words I’m using, my choices, my lifestyle, my opinion. Never affirming or reassuring, just provoking, trying to put me on the defensive. Years of enduring this taught me the value of emotional safety. I learnt how to round out my edges in conversation, how to make someone feel reassured, rather than backing them into a corner. And how to disagree in an agreeable way that still opens the door for more conversation. *Being Argumentative* Maybe it’s a lack of internal peace but some people have the ability to turn any conversation into an argument. As soon as I start to feel like I’m being baited into fight mode, I withdraw - nodding, smiling and plotting my exit. There’s an internal wrestle I feel in some interactions that make me hesitant to speak. That feeling of being nagged or pursued that builds up a turmoil and causes me to wish I’d just stayed silent. Sometimes we just want to share an opinion or simple piece of information without constant rebuttal. I’ve learnt the power of just saying, “oh ok”. No debate. No push back. I reckon if I resist the urge to counter, they will feel more relaxed to share further. *Being Self-Absorbed* It’s my observation that hardly anyone wants to dialogue with me. Everyone wants to monologue. And it’s exhausting. Exhausting to never see a shift in the conversation where the other person creates a window for me to speak. Exhausting to be treated like a therapist rather than a friend. I’ve spent countless hours at inconvenient times sitting and listening to people who said they wanted to “catch up” but all they wanted to do was talk about themselves, their lives, their issues. And it’s always struck me that the ones who do this never have any idea of where I work, where I live, what I struggle with, or any basic knowledge of my life. It’s taught me how to share time with others in conversation, to validate their experiences and to not dominate with just my own stories. I’ve learnt how to be still, to practice self control of my tongue, and how to reciprocate so that the other person feels equally valued. I realised that part of becoming a safe space means knowing how to create distance from those who are incapable of being there for me. And to fill my immediate environment with those who can. I’ve tolerated many moments of futile attempts to connect in healthy ways with unhealthy people. I know how it feels. And because of that, I strive to be the opposite - a safe space for anyone who simply needs someone to be present and to be kind.
My Sundays at The Rocks
The Unscheduled Phonecall
Every time my phone rings, I die a little inside. Maybe I’ve morphed into GenZ. Maybe it’s the years of living in Sydney where most phones stay on silent, where messaging is the way to “talk” to someone, where I can enjoy the peace of the “Quiet Carriage” on the train without people yapping around me and where all my coastal walks and bush walks are still and serene. Or maybe it’s because I’m an introvert pretending to be an extravert and the little introvert inside me needs fair warning before human contact. It’s the same feeling that comes with the unexpected doorbell ring, or knock on the door. If I were expecting someone to show up, maybe I’d be wearing pants (and deodorant) and wouldn’t be scrambling to tidy the house before I open the door. And if I were expecting a call, maybe I wouldn’t be sitting on the loo, or deeply engrossed in another conversation, or on the bus surrounded by people I don’t wish to disturb. I would have carved out that time, sat in a quiet, private place and given my undivided attention. I think of the times people respond to my text message with a call, assuming that if I’m messaging I can take a call. No. We can all take two seconds to send a message while we’re in the middle of doing anything. Doesn’t mean we’re fair game for a call. I’ve also had to remove my “online” or “active” statuses from social platforms because people would assume that if I’m online, they can pounce on me with a unannounced call. With modern options, I think communication etiquette has changed. Some may argue that we’ve lost the art of communication. But I think it’s just evolved. I’ve become accustomed to doing everything quietly on my phone, ringer off, hopping from one app to another - bookings, purchases, tap for the train, transfer cash to a friend, check my shifts at work, scan my FlyBuys card… In the same vein, it’s just as simple to open another app and type a few lines of text to someone before moving on to the next thing. The conversation around mental health touches many parts of our daily lives, including how we communicate and how we protect our peace. It’s about respecting people’s personal space and acknowledging that many people today, like myself, have phone call anxiety. And that many things said on a call could have just been a message. With no pressure, no infringing on privacy, no obligation to disclose what I’m in the middle of doing. “Heehee did I catch you at a bad time? It sounds like you’re sleeping.” “Heehee what are you eating, I can hear you eating.” How is this acceptable? I’ve appreciated Australia’s “right to disconnect” law for employees that protects their time outside of work hours. At the same time, while at work, we do call each other during our shift hours. It’s quick, and more importantly, it’s expected. I’m being paid for that many hours and I’m on duty so I expect to get short calls from the team on my mobile about some issue to resolve etc. It really is all about the frame of mind and about being considerate enough of others to do what’s appropriate. I love connection. And I do enjoy calls with friends - when they’ve been scheduled and they suit everyone’s time zones and availabilities. Then I can be ready, sit in a comfy spot, make a cup of tea... And (maybe) turn my ringer on.
My Crossroads
The Liminal
My voice has outgrown The room in which it was born My footprints do not match The sand I’m standing on. I exist in the middle Between a past that is foregone And the distant sound of something That is yet to spawn. Nothing here feels right But it also isn’t wrong A pit stop in purgatory That’s neither short nor long. An invisible crossroad That doesn’t hurry on While everyone is spinning Right where they belong. Life in the Liminal Like a tide already gone And a reach toward that something Yet to come along.
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