We’re home.
And the Bali saga has come to a close.
We’re home.
While I unpack (and unpack again — the emotional baggage weighs more than a suitcase), it is good to be back. Mostly.
A little update first…
I’ve been thinking about the rhythm of these Substacks landing in your inbox. When I asked recently if you wanted me to separate out the peri/menopause content from everything else, most of you said no, you liked it all in one place.
That made me smile. So, thank you.
But I’ve decided to shift to sending you an article only once a week for now. Every Monday. You’re busy. I’m busy. And while I’ve got loads of drafts ready to go (the words have been flowing lately), I don’t want to flood your inbox or burn us both out. I want the cadence to feel just right, so we can sit with it, not just scroll past it.
What do you think?
Also…
My old friend
and I have decided to hit record on some juicy conversations we've been having behind the scenes, topics close to our hearts, with a distinctly Sunshine Coast flavour, with some incredible guests lined up. Think women’s health, midlife chaos, creative reinventions, and all the bits of life we’re not supposed to talk about out loud.
The podcast is coming very soon, but in the meantime, we’ve quietly launched the Facebook community, and already we’ve welcomed 1300 women. It's already bubbling with women who are up for more connection, less small talk.
If you want to learn more about it, we’ve created a Substack just for the podcast
, so come join us if it fits your bill.
But wow, the post-holiday comedown is real. Let me know if you want the full Bali saga, including what actually went wrong, why we had to stay an extra two weeks, and the moment we made the call to send our 14-year-old home on his own while the rest of us waited for medical clearance to fly.
There’s no thud back to earth quite like going from villa breakfasts by the butler (thanks to our incredible Travel Insurance covering the bill) to early am sport drop-offs on less than four hours' sleep. Or from not cooking a single meal to hand-washing dishes because your dishwasher is still broken and the technician is two weeks away.
But the thing that always hits me hardest after travelling? The stuff.
So. Much. Stuff.
There’s something about living out of a suitcase for a few weeks and moving between 4 different accommodations that makes you look around your home and wonder how it got this heavy.
I start mentally clearing everything out the second I walk in the door. I fantasise about owning less, needing less, choosing less. About living a little slower, a little simpler.
And yet… here I am. Surrounded by the surf gear, the lunchboxes, the uniforms, the extra gym gear I use when I don’t make it to my gym, the kitchen gadgets from my chef era, that I still do use, but not daily, the walking treadmill under the stand up desk, the books I struggle to let go of, the keepsakes from every country we’ve ever lived in.
The thing is, when you're on the road, you make do. You don’t have every option available, and somehow, it feels like a relief. I work with just my laptop and headphones when I travel, and that’s enough. Back home, I’ve got the full work-from-home setup with all the tech bells and whistles. Necessary? Debatable.
This constant tension between what feels good when I travel and what creeps back in when I’m home makes me realise how much of our daily “essentials” are really just habits. Or comfort blankets. Or half-finished systems that promised to make life easier.
Ali Bella from Bella Organising is a genius at spotting this kind of clutter. She sees through the chaos in a pantry or wardrobe like she’s got X-ray vision. She’s helped me rework spaces I didn’t even think were a problem. If you’re in that “where do I even start” mode, she’s your girl.
I’ve also been quietly inspired (read: called out) by Samantha Wills, who recently cleared out her Sydney storage unit and shared the messy truth about fast fashion, dopamine shopping, and all the “organisational must-haves” that end up in a drawer.
Same, Samantha. Same.
I go through this cycle after every trip. The desire to live lighter, to be more intentional, to stop filling the spaces just because they’re there. And even though I haven’t cracked the code yet, I keep circling back to it. Maybe this time it’ll stick.
So here I am. Home. A little sun-kissed, a little overwhelmed, a lot grateful. Sorting through memories, mess, and meaning.
Want to hear more about Bali and the chaos that unfolded? Let me know in the comments.
And if you’ve ever stood in your own kitchen, post-holiday, wondering why you own three whisks and 92 Tupperware lids with no matching bases… I see you.