Born in country South Australia, the youngest of four children, I was surrounded by a large extended family and spent my childhood playing in pine forests, riding horses and driving loaders with my Dad. I was blessed to grow up in that slower existence, something I only truly realised the older I’ve become. Restless and wanting to explore what else was out there, I moved to Melbourne at eighteen and never looked back. I loved the anonymity or freedom as I thought of it and got drunk on the big bright, city lights. I also fell madly in love with my now husband, whom I undoubtedly know from a past life.
After working jobs to pay the bills, I landed a position at 22 with an iconic Australian women’s retailer in their head office. I still remember my interview. I walked through the hall where runner rails lined the walls, my fingers gliding along the fabrics. I spent seven years working for that brand. I fell into something I was naturally good at. I was a planner by nature, now I was one by profession. Those seven years were mostly life changing. It’s where I found my tribe. The women I could count on in any given situation, the ones who would be there to catch me when I fell. And even though I loved the fashion industry, I always felt like somewhat of a fraud, like I didn’t completely fit in. It didn’t fulfil me emotionally.
During the last few years of working there, I started a little newsletter called The Gossip Rag. It was originally shared amongst a few girls for a bit of a laugh. Very tongue-in-cheek, celebrity gossip, current affairs, type stuff. It was fun and I felt at ease doing it. The CEO got wind of it and asked me to send it out to our office. I went from seven readers to ninety. I freaked the first time I sent it out, held my breath, waited. The response was overwhelming. Mostly people told me I was in the wrong profession and it was the first time I considered fashion not being my career and that thought excited me.
Having journaled my entire life, english being the only subject at school I cared about, in retrospect the dots were there but I never connected them. It took my life imploding, for the safety of my existence to shatter in a moment for that natural yearning to be unearthed. The quiet internal voice when I was writing The Gossip Rag got louder. It went from a soft whisper to something I could no longer ignore. The more my life spiralled, the louder it got. I wrote and didn’t stop. It was therapy and cathartic. Among other things, it got me through. During that time, A Lyrical Mind was born and it became a space to explore that internal voice without pressure or constraint.
Over the last four years since I launched this space, I’ve honed my writing and shared it as publicly as I know how. I’ve worked as an editorial writer for The Eye Creative Magazine, published across multiple media outlets and recently launched my own platform, The Thread. Without question, writing is my thing. I think a year ago, I would have said it’s my calling but I’m starting to consider my calling may be bigger than that. Rather than writing my own stories, I think I’m destined to share the stories of others. To give a voice to those who can’t find the words to do it themselves.
I believe story telling has the power to change lives. To educate and resonate, to build bridges and close gaps socially. I believe through sharing our stories, we can create connection and understanding. I believe we all have lessons buried within our stories that others deserve to hear and learn from. But I think Brené Brown says it best; “You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.”