Those Who Dislike Truth, Are Those Who live Behind Lies.

Families, we’ve all got them, but, that doesn’t mean that we particularly like or get along with them, especially when you have those who prefer to hide behind lies!

This week some of my Dad’s family have been up in arms after discovering my blog. I haven’t spoken to most of them since my Dad’s passing seven years ago, and this week I’ve been reminded of why.

Some of them are quite unpleasant people who can’t handle hearing the truth – true ‘victim’ players who never accept responsibility for their own behaviour. They most definitely can’t survive unless they are creating some sort of drama to enhance their otherwise dull and miserable lives.

In one of my previous articles ‘Domestic Violence – Not Always Black And White’, I BRIEFLY mentioned (the article was actually about my parents and I) how my Uncle and eldest half sister used to encourage my Dad to drink, which is one hundred per cent correct and truthful!

Apparently, my sister’s partner whom I will call Mr Would Be (you know: Mr Would Be if he could be – a two bob snob who thinks he is better than everyone) and my Uncle’s wife whom I will call Mrs Would Be (because: she Would Be the matriarch of the ‘Sellars’ [my last name] family, if she were actually a ‘Sellars’), are incensed that I would dare to write the truth about my actual blood relatives.

Both of them rang my second oldest sister whom I will call Miss Kind (because: she has the most beautiful heart and soul) and abused the crap out of her. Why? Because, both of them are too gutless to contact me directly, so they both targeted the soft and innocent Miss Kind.

Mrs Would Be, was yelling at Miss Kind – demanding her to wipe me from her life. Yes, you heard correctly: an OUTSIDER who is merely married to my Uncle, is demanding that Miss Kind stops speaking to her BLOOD related sister. Totally crazy, isn’t it?!

It’s actually quite sad, I haven’t spoken to my Uncle since Dad died because of his trouble making wife. I would happily speak to my Uncle (I know my Dad would love that), but I won’t, because I absolutely will not tolerate the drunken ranting’s and interference from his wife. And, I know my Dad would understand that – he couldn’t stand Mrs Would Be or Mr Would Be either for that matter!

When Dad died Mr Would Be abused my Mother on the phone because apparently having Dad’s funeral at 10 o’clock on a Monday morning was an man-wearing-brown-suit-jacket-mocking-on-white-telephone-1587014inconvenience for them. He screamed at Mum “What sort of a fucking idiot has a funeral at 10 o’clock on a Monday morning?” Considering I used to work in the Funeral Industry I’d like to say: NEWS FLASH ARSEHOLE, every Monday morning, year in, year out, people have funerals at that time! I think that pretty much sums up the type of person he is anyway! Don’t you?

They have a real distaste for my Mother and I because as I mentioned before, people like that have an aversion to the truth. They have so much self-hatred that it’s easier to live behind lies, than it is to face the scariness of the truth – the truth that they are very unhappy and self-loathing people. Rather than have the courage to face this, they choose to bury their pain in booze, and deflect their character faults on to those who represent what they fear most. Truth!

My Mother and I are as truthful as they come, not just towards other people, but about ourselves. We aren’t afraid to admit our faults and past mistakes, and that frightens the shit out of people who choose to live in the safety of lies.

But, that’s okay, I understand that everyone is on their own journey and will evolve at their own pace…

The silver lining for me out of this whole ‘dramatic’ escapade is:

  • I’m so glad that I’ve learnt to love and accept myself, it really is the most peaceful place to be!
  • I’m really grateful for the family members who bring me love and joy, especially my sister Miss Kind – her and I have a special and unbreakable bond that I will always treasure.
  • When you choose to walk away from toxic people, it’s very empowering to know that your life is far better for it.

Some people hate me for my honesty, but I’ve reached a point where I am totally fine with that. The people who are worthy of being in my life, love me for it – I realised a long time ago that the truth really does set you FREE!

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Green Eyed Monster – Jealousy.

Jealousy, it really is one of the ugliest emotions that one can feel and exhibit. I’ve never particularly resonated with this emotion, and think it’s a poisonous one to entertain.

I often hear people make comments like “He makes way too much money” or “She’s so lucky. It’s not fair, why haven’t I got X Y Z?”. Which of course, is jealousy based around a feeling of lack within one’s own life.

Then there is what I call ‘possessive’ jealousy, where one person thinks they have ownership over another person. Again, this comes back to an inadequacy within ones-self – a deep seated insecurity caused from a lack of self-acceptance.

I think we’ve all experienced the emotion of jealousy at one point or another in our lives, but some people seem to embody the emotion to a point where they become rotten to their core.

On the few occasions I have felt jealousy, it’s been something that I’ve been eager to rid myself of, it’s also something that I would never allow to interfere in my treatment towards others.

I’m generally pretty happy for people, if someone obtains money or success I think good luck to them, it’s obviously their path. The same goes with people: I understand that I do not have ownership over anyone other than myself.

If one of my friends gets along with another friend I’ve introduced them to, I think that’s fantastic! If I’m in a romantic relationship with someone, I owe my trust to them, and if I don’t, then I would need to asses whether it’s due to my own insecurities or whether there is a valid reason for the jealousy. If there is a valid reason, then it’s simple, I must end the relationship – my self-worth deserves better than a cheater.


If the jealousy was due to my own insecurities, then I would need to seek professional help in order to overcome them. It is incredibly unfair to place one’s own insecurities on to a partner (or anyone for that matter)!

When you look at the core of jealousy, regardless of which type, it all comes back to the individual experiencing the jealousy – it truly has nothing to do with the other person. And, those who cannot see that are definitely caught up in a ‘victim’ mentality. You know, the whole woe is me, life isn’t fair, why is this happening to me, God is punishing me type of crap.

News flash – YOU are one hundred per cent responsible for your own life! Yes, someone may inflict an injustice on you, but it’s YOUR choice as to whether you allow that to either make or break you!

Those of you who choose to sit in the vile emotion that is jealousy, will never find happiness. Why? Because, you refuse to take ownership and address why you are feeling jealous in the first place.

No, it isn’t always easy to look at yourself and accept that you are less than perfect, but surely that uncomfortableness is better than allowing your misguided bitterness to spread through, not only your own life, but to the lives of the innocent that you choose to deflect upon?

If you find that you are consistently feeling jealous and are unable to show happiness towards others, then might I suggest you put your big girl/boy pants on and take a good hard look at yourself. You can either let the poison spread until it kills your health and happiness, or you can take ownership and kill the poison.

It’s your choice – the buck stops with you!

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

You Either Have Integrity Or You Are A Hypocrite.

Integrity is one of my core values. I feel that without it, there’s a lack of wholeness within one’s character – self-respect is missing, and that makes it incredibly hard for others to respect you in return.

Integrity, comes in various different forms, but ultimately, it’s about having high moral principles that you adhere to, regardless of what others may think of you. It’s also about upholding those principles even when no one is watching!

I’ve always had the ability to see through the façade of someone’s behaviour – an understanding of the deeper psychology that drives, the often, unpleasant or destructive behaviour.

This ability, has always allowed me to show compassion where most do not. But, I have to admit, a lack of integrity within a person is something I struggle to show empathy for. Yes, it’s true, a person without integrity (otherwise known as a hypocrite) is usually filled with deep seated insecurities and an underlying dose of self-hatred – in knowing this, I should be able to show some compassion towards hypocrites, but, on my core value scale: integrity, sits higher than compassion.

I was raised to tell the truth, something that isn’t always popular, especially with those who are afraid or in denial of the truth. But, seriously, why would you care if a truth denier doesn’t like you?

This, of course, doesn’t mean you run around deliberately hurting people’s feelings – there is always a gentle way to say what needs to be said. But, lying or pretending to agree with someone or something that goes against your personal values just to ensure that you are liked, is nothing short of being gutless! If people want to judge and dislike you for having different values, then take that as a clear sign – these are not the type of people you would want to hang around anyway.

Recently, a well known and prominent person in my hometown passed away. I won’t pretend to know him well – we were just on an acquaintance level. I did, however, admire and respect him greatly. Why? Because, he had the the utmost integrity. Nothing and no one came before the upholding of his core values and principles.

He was disliked by many because of this, especially for some of his ‘politically incorrect’ views, but he didn’t give a stuff – he knew who he was, what he stood for, and was unashamedly proud of it. Although many disliked his honesty, many, many more loved and respected him for it.

This man and the term hypocrisy could never be said in the same sentence! He even left instructions before he died to remove a particular person if they came to his funeral because of their clash in values – he couldn’t stand to go against them, even in death.

I only wish there were more people in the World like this. Unfortunately, too many are so concerned about what others may think of them, that they forget to check in on what they think about themselves.

A lack of integrity may make you more popular with the supposed ‘in’ crowd, but it will never make you respected by those in the RIGHT crowd!

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Dare To Be Different.

I’ve always been a bit of an oddball – I see the World very differently to most. I think it’s a part of being a creative person. Our ability to think differently is what allows us to create all sorts of magical things…

There’s an old saying “All creatives are borderline insane”, and insane, is how a lot of people have viewed my ‘lateral thinking’ over the years. I used to feel upset by being viewed as ‘different’ from the crowd – it can be a lonely road. But, one thing I’ve come to realise is trying to ‘fit in’ and be someone you are not is even lonelier.

The World truly would be a boring place if we were all the same, and nothing new would be created if we didn’t have people who ‘dared’ to think differently. As I’ve got older, I’ve learned to love my weirdness, and I’ve grown incredibly thankful for it too!

It allows me to step outside the narrative that is heavily prescribed through the media, schools and Universities – the indoctrination that has almost wiped out people’s ability to think freely and laterally.

I’ve copped a lot of ridicule from the herd for this ability, free thinking seems to frighten them. Their fear is what drives them to be mean. When you understand this, their words lose their power and no longer hurt. You no longer allow their meekness to snuff out your light (your creative spark).

If you too are an ‘oddball’, remember this and remember you are not alone… Keep thinking BIG, keep creating something new, and most importantly, keep shinning brightly!

“Why try so hard to fit in, when clearly you were born to stand out” ~ Author Unknown.

A Little poem I wrote about being different:


A mind outside the square,

Lot’s of thinking going on up there.

A view with a difference,

People reject an indifference.

One’s depth can be so shallow,

Their brain soft – a marshmallow.

Misunderstood is the artist,

Unrecognised as a craftsman.

So intricate are the weaves.

Majority cannot see,

A genius is that of thee.

A creative fire, burns through the wire.

An ignition that will not tire.

Insanity, they perceive.

Judgement is their greatest need.

Their mind is trapped, oh yes, indeed.

Just jealous that you are free.

Limitations, you have none.

Remember, oh precious one,

Your gift is from above.

Your talents bring only fun.

So, reject that you are dumb,

Just misunderstood by everyone.

Do not judge as they do.

Pave the way,

For one day, they might embrace your different ways.

After all, people follow when they feel their lives are hollow.

Trust in thyself, then they might too.

Oh genius one, this is the truth.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Legalising Illicit Drugs – The Answer To Controlling A Worldwide Epidemic.

In recent weeks in Australia, the Coroner has advised that testing drugs at music festivals would be beneficial in saving lives.

This has caused much debate on social media, and I have to say I’ve found it extremely hard to read some of the ignorant comments made. Comments like “drugs are illegal, so drug takers should be arrested”, “who cares if they overdose, it’s their choice to take them”, or, “pill testing only encourages drug users”.

All of these comments are very easy to say in a black and white context, but the drug epidemic that is sweeping the World is not as simplistic as the black and white ignorant would like to think!

Authorities have been fighting the ‘war on drugs’ for a very long time, and I have to ask: where has it got them? As one Drug Lord is locked up, another emerges. In fact, the amount of people taking drugs has almost tripled in the last twenty years.

Trying to eradicate drugs and drug dealers is clearly NOT working! So, wouldn’t common sense tell you that if one approach is failing miserably, then perhaps a new approach is very much warranted.

I watched a documentary years ago (I think it was based in Sweden), where pill testing was trialled at music festivals, and the results were amazing. Young party goers who used the service and got a bad reading on their pill, actually abstained from taking it.

However, I believe this idea, although inventive and having some positive outcomes, is really only addressing a very small window of a much larger problem. A problem that requires great vision for the entirety of its reach.

Drugs affect various different problems that impact the community as a whole: crime is one of the biggest areas that has an on-flow from drugs. We have drug addicts committing burglaries on small businesses and frightening home invasions – they need money to pay for their addiction. We have Gangland turf wars over the territory of selling drugs. People committing murder, rape and violence in general because of drugs. There’s people who drive on drugs, putting other’s lives at risk. People filling up hospitals and psychiatric wards due to drugs. Suicide.  Ambulance and Police officers are being called to drug related issues, and the list goes on and on!

The problem is so far spread throughout society, that the approach of ‘stopping’ it, is nothing more than an outdated, unrealistic ideal. So, what do we do if we can’t stop it? We need to change tactics and learn to control it, and we can only do this if we legalise all illicit drugs.    

Now, before you jump down my throat, please just hear me out. Alcohol was once illegal too back in the Prohibition days, and the powers that be realised the problem was so out of hand that they needed to legalise it in order to control it. You only have to look around to see that alcohol related crime, is very minimal in comparison to drugs these days. Legalising alcohol didn’t take away all of the problems, but it certainly reduced them to a controllable level.

I can already hear you black and white thinkers jumping up and down yelling “Legalising it will send a message that it’s okay to take drugs and will make the problem worse”, and to that I say NO, it will make the problem better!

Legalising drugs will enable several things:

  • The drugs can be made safely by trained professionals, saving thousands of lives and creating more jobs in the process.
  • The dosage given can be monitored and regulated.
  • Drug Lords would almost be wiped out.
  • All of the above would lead to a significant drop in crime.
  • The lure for kids to rebel against the law by taking ‘illegal’ drugs would be rendered worthless.
  • The need for ambulance and police resources would also drop significantly.

As someone who has fallen to the clutches of drug addiction, I’m telling you that ‘stopping’ drugs will not stop an addict from finding a fix, nor will it stop a drug dealer trying to make a quick buck or trade off to support their own habit. Educating kids that drugs are ‘bad’ won’t have much affect either, not on someone who is in extreme emotional or physical pain.

My parents spent a lot of time teaching me that drugs were ‘bad’, and in my early teens I was righteously against the use of drugs – lecturing anyone I could about it until one day… My unprocessed emotional pain became too much to bare. When someone reaches that point of emotional or physical pain, all sense of reason flies out the window. So please people, stop making such simplistic comments like “don’t take drugs, drugs are bad”, that attitude is neither helpful or affective!  

It’s time people opened their minds and their hearts. The severity of the problem has spread far and wide, far beyond the realms of being able to ‘stop’ it. A new approach is the only way of reducing the impact that drugs are having on ordinary people in what has become the misery of their everyday lives. You will never stop it, so let’s do what we can to control it! 

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Synchronicity – A Signpost To The Right Path.

I don’t believe in coincidences, I believe that synchronicity happens for a reason. It’s a signpost from the Universe, letting us know that we are exactly where we are meant to be.

I’ve had a few really good synchronicities in the latter half of this year and it coincides with some much needed changes I had to make in my life. My finances have really taken a hit in recent years, mainly due to depression and reckless decisions made in grief after the loss of my Father.

I thought I was on to a winner and that things were going to turn around when I started working for two supposed Entrepreneurs – dedicating a lot of time, energy and effort into their falsely inflated business, for very little in return.

After twelve months of getting an inside look at their lies and false promises, and unfortunately ending up with an empty pocket – I realised that I had allowed myself to be used by people who knew my desperation to improve my financial situation and used it to their advantage.

When I finally woke up and walked away, everything shifted, and amazing synchronicities started to occur… And, most importantly, I learnt one very valuable lesson: don’t rely on anyone other than yourself to become successful!

Rather than feel despondent, I had deep faith that something much better would come along, and three weeks later it did. An online course, run by real Entrepreneurs who have actually reached the heights of great success. The course offered everything I was looking for: a tangible step-by-step process on everything I felt I was lacking in becoming successful.

adventure-boots-car-1051078I knew in my heart instantly that this was where I was meant to be, and the following week the Universe sent me a massive sign of confirmation.

My cousin, who I would say has always been my ‘spiritual’ guide, sent me a text message about a new business venture he was undertaking. And, low and behold, it was basically everything my new course was about.  When I replied, I mentioned the course that I was undertaking, and guess what? He had just finished an almost identical course. I had goose bumps from head to toe, as did he. However, neither of us were particularly surprised – our lives have often been parallel.

Now that I had a new direction for the future, I needed some form of extra income to support myself in this venture, as well as work in with my current part-time Hairdressing business.

I reached back to my old trade of House Painting and managed to rustle up a few private jobs, but it wasn’t consistent week-in-week-out. I needed something part-time on a regular basis. I called a few painters and fronted up to different businesses with resume in hand, but no one had any work at the time.

A couple of months later, I still had one of the supposed entrepreneurs clinging on to being in my life, and I felt like this was a huge burden weighing me down. I needed to free myself from the toxicity, and when I finally did, I got a phone call the very next day from a female painter. She offered me the regular work I’d been looking for and was happy to be flexible with my hours, she also offered me a really good hourly rate – it was exactly what I was after! This synchronicity confirmed that cutting these people from my life was indeed the right decision.

I felt like my new part-time job (although going backwards to a past career) was exactly where I was meant to be, and of course, the Universe always sends a sign…

We were painting a house for a builder and his wife that my new boss regularly works for. My boss had been telling me about how lovely the builder’s wife was and when I met her, she seemed strangely familiar.

I decided to look her up on Facebook, hoping this would jolt my memory as to where I knew her from, and it did. I saw a photo and write up about her Grandma who had died seven years prior.

Seven years ago I worked in the funeral industry. It was myself and another female colleague who came to collect her Grandmother when she died. I remember this family so well because I felt a real connection with them.

They were a large family who were incredibly close, and my part in the Grandmother’s collection somehow felt special; the family must have thought so too because the next day they rang the office to rave about the “two angels” who collected their loved one the night before. The family also requested that we work on the funeral services. The family held a private service at the Crematorium and a separate public memorial service.

Management would only let me work on the private cremation service and I was furious that they were ignoring a specific request from the family (the families were just a number to management, but to me they were people in grief that I cared about). I sent a card with a colleague to give to the family at the service I was not allowed to work on.

Twelve months later the Grandfather passed away and the family requested I work on his funeral, but I was no longer employed there. A colleague was kind enough to pass on the message.

I had chills when I realised who the builder’s wife was. I told my boss the story, she was touched by it and rang the builder’s wife for me to speak to. I told her she seemed familiar and she said she felt the same thing but couldn’t put her finger on it. When I told her I used to work in the funeral industry, she knew who I was immediately.

She was just as excited as I was and told me that mine and my colleague’s presence that night was firmly etched in her and her family’s mind – our care and compassion truly meant something to them. We talked for quite a while and have decided to catch up for a drink sometime soon.

For me, this was another case of goose bumps – total awe and wonder at adult-attractive-beautiful-1261459how the Universe divinely times things when we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Oh, and I nearly forgot one more amazing synchronicity. Although I’ve written my whole life, I’ve never really been interested in writing Fiction, I don’t even particularly read a lot of it.

A few weeks ago a friend sent me an article on performing a cord cutting ceremony to help me let go of energetic ties to a past love. That night as I performed the ceremony, my mind transported to a magical realm of ideas for a Fiction book.

The ideas gave me a strong knowing that this is the direction my writing must go in next. I started trying to think of my main character’s name, but it wouldn’t come. A couple of days later (on my birthday actually) another friend sent me a YouTube video (out of the blue) of this artist I have never heard of, and guess what? Yep, it’s exactly the name I was after for my main character. The song also ‘strangely’ relates to the genre (fantasy) of the book.

Once again, confirmation I am on the right track! The first half of this year was honestly one of the most challenging years I’ve ever faced, in relation to letting go of that which no longer serves me. But boy, is the second half of the year rewarding me!

All of the dead weight is gone, things are moving forward, and the synchronicities are flying through the door. I don’t know exactly where this is all going yet, but I do know, I’m exactly where I need to be. That much the Universe has confirmed loud and clear!

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

The Depths Of Drug Addiction.

When I look back to my drug taking days, it seriously frightens the shit out of me. How I’m not dead, I really don’t know. People have died for less than what I put myself through.

In hindsight, I can see now that I was subconsciously trying to kill myself. I thought nothing at taking 2, 3 ecstasy tablets at a time, and would then drive my car. In fact, I drove my car everywhere in those days – it was pre drug testing back then.

I snorted copious amounts of high grade speed, it’s actually what I first became addicted to. I remember the first time I had this high grade stuff, I had one line of it and didn’t sleep for three days – I think I was addicted immediately.

At my worst, I was taking it nearly everyday, I would go on five day benders with no sleep and basically no food. It was hard to eat anything but an apple here and there on this strong gear. My weight dropped down to 38 kilograms, and size 6 (Aus) clothes were too big for me. It was nearly impossible to buy clothes that fitted.

My face was gaunt and my eyes were sunken – I looked liked a drug fucked piece of shit (because I was).

I’d rack up lines in the toilet at work, in my car, hell, once I even racked up on the table in the dining room of a pub, using only a menu to hide behind. I didn’t care, I just needed a fix whenever and wherever I could.

My work sacked me, and my family had all become aware that I was now a drug addict. I looked so terrible, it was hard to disguise it – make-up will only take you so far! I went to my cousin’s wedding off my face, my Grandmothers 80th birthday, there was no occasion that was off limits.

IMG_3528Me, looking terrible on drugs, and after looking healthy.

I saw it as a game to try and take as many drugs as possible, and, as I hung out with some pretty high up drug dealers and quite a few rich kids, paying for it was never an issue – there was always something on offer.

I remember this acquaintance racking up a line of Ketamine (typically used as a horse tranquiliser) that was about 15cm long. She said “this one is for you Stace”, and before she could say she was joking, bang, I’d snorted the whole thing. I went into what is known as a k-hole.

It’s where you curl up in a foetal position and literally can’t move for hours. At one point (for a split second) I actually forgot how to breathe, I remember the panic I felt in that moment. It was scary then, but even scarier now to think about really.

Another time I was in a day club after being out all night. I’d had 3 ecstasy tablets, a gram of cocaine, alcohol, and then took GHB (a central nervous system depressant), a drug that people easily overdose on when taken singularly. With the cocktail of drugs in my system, I was incredibly lucky that I didn’t overdose. I did however, throw my guts up in a side street on a Sunday afternoon, whilst normal civilians walked by looking in disgust.

I took so many drugs that I became highly paranoid and regularly went into a drug induced psychosis. It was hard to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t – all the days seemed to roll into one.

My poor parents used to lie awake at night waiting for the Police to knock on the door. Mum truly believed I was going to die, or at the very least get arrested.

I overcame my speed addiction but soon turned to Ice (Methamphetamine), it was the latest craze and soon became the main drug on offer. I easily became addicted to this, especially when a friend who was addicted to it moved in with me.

He had a guy who made it, so once again, it was regularly on offer. We’d drive an hour and a half away to collect it straight from the stove. That shit was strong and I couldn’t get enough of it. Thankfully my friend moved out after about six months, which meant it wasn’t in my face everyday.

As much as I hated taking drugs by that stage, I was an addict – if it was in front of me I couldn’t say no. I still to this day struggle with saying no, which is why I don’t have drug users directly in my life – the temptation is still strong.

When I look back to the limits I pushed myself to, I truly don’t know how I’m still alive. God obviously had other plans for me, of which I’m truly grateful for. It’s kind of surreal actually. I’ve grown so much as a person, that all of that seems like it didn’t really happen – that it was just a bad dream.

But, every now and then it hit’s me like a ton of bricks, and I shake and panic as I realise the gravity of it all. In these moments I have to remind myself that I am safe, alive, and blessed with a bright and happy life.

I thank God everyday that I survived and am lucky enough to have lived to tell the tale. I know all too well that so many never make it out of the depths of what really is hell.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Writing And Poetry – In The Eye Of The Beholder.

Poetry and writing in general is something I’ve done privetly for many, many years. It’s like a little piece of your soul goes into each creation. I think that’s why I’ve always been too scared to share it publicly.

This year I decided to step outside of my comfort zone and share my heart online – baring a part of my soul, and some of my deepest, darkest secrets… It’s something that’s been incredibly cathartic and empowering!

I’ve also entered a couple of poetry competitions — something that’s hard to do for someone who has a fear of rejection. But, to my surprise, I’ve obviously outgrown this fear because each poem I’ve submitted hasn’t even reached the long-list, let alone the short-list.

Sure, I felt slightly rejected for a minute, I think most would feel disapointed on some level. But, for the first time, I don’t feel deterred or feel like my writing/poetry isn’t good enough. It really does come down to personal preference. J. K Rowling had her Harry Potter manuscript rejected several times before she got a publishing deal, and we all know that series is some of the best writing you will ever see.

Persistance and determination is the key, and that is something I’m very commited to achieving. Writing is my passion, my calling and something that I could never live without. It is something that I absolutely refuse to give up on!

So, the judges didn’t like my poem ‘THE FLOWER’, but I didn’t write it for them, I wrote it for my friend who was in the midst of overcoming cancer. It was created to give warmth to her heart, not win the approval of strangers.

Some may like it, some may not, but that’s what writing is all about: touching those who are ready to see what lies in the eye of the beholder.



A seedling she was, struggling to break through the ground.

It was a cold and dark place, somewhere she knew she did not belong.

But perhaps, a necessary place to root her foundations…

Great strength comes from the darkness, it’s the only place from which you can recognise the light.

She quietly sat in her pain, knowing that one day, the rain would come.

She needed the rain to nourish her, to help her grow strong.

It was the only way she could emerge from beneath the ground.

Many feared the rain would drown her, that she’d be kept way down deep amongst the darkness.

But she knew that they were wrong, she knew she’d have the strength to go on.

When the rain did come, it hit her hard, the force was so strong.

It tried to drown her, but her resolve to break ground was stronger.

Rather than retreat into the mud, she faced the rain head on.

As the raindrops hit her face, to her surprise, it washed away her tears.

She could now feel herself rising…

As she grew, she felt a warmth unlike anything she had ever felt before.

She looked up at this warmth, and then down at herself – the seedling she once was, had grown into a flower.

It was in this moment that she realised: that in order for the seedling to blossom into this

full grown flower, she needed it all – the loneliness of the darkness, the pain of the

drowning rain, and the growth from the warming sun.

It is only now in full bloom that she is able to appreciate the darkness.

She has struggled, she has strived, she has now blissfully arrived.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Domestic Violence – Not Always Black And White.

It’s hard for me to admit that I grew up in a house with domestic violence. Partly because my Dad without alcohol was the most beautiful, loving and caring man, and the other part because what went on in my house, was essentially my normal.

There was a lot of love and laughter, but unfortunately my Dad’s addiction to alcohol often brought a very dark cloud over our heads. He wasn’t a daily drinker, but he certainly went on drinking binges. Every few months his drinking would increase, and when this occurred Mum and I were in for a few weeks of hell.

Dad worked shift work, and I would often come home from school to find him drunk and agitated. I would sneak off into my room and ring Mum at work in order to warn her of what she would be coming home to.

Quite often I would tell Dad off for how drunk he was, which created an argument between us; it usually resulted in him chasing after me in the attempt to give me a belting. More often than not I managed to escape unharmed.

I had a lock put on my door and there was a lock on the bathroom door. I’d usually run as fast as I could to either of these rooms and lock the door; I always had to lean against the door though to stop Dad from kicking it down.

A few times I wasn’t quick enough and coped a few kicks and punches. However, this never made me scared of him, I always felt anger and determination to protect my Mother. I very much saw the fear in my Mother’s eyes when he was like that, and somehow my need to protect her always gave me the power to stand up to him.

Often when Mum got home from work, Dad would try to pick a fight with her. She would try her best not to agitate him, but sometimes he was argument-bench-breakup-984953determined to pick a fight. In these times, Mum and I would have to make a run for the car. We’d jump in and lock the doors. Mum would reverse out of the driveway as quickly as she could as Dad bashed his fists on the windscreen. It always amazed me that the glass never smashed from his sheer force.

We would run away to my Aunties house for a day or two when Dad got like this, with nothing more than the clothes on our back. There was never any time to pack a bag in these volatile situations.

I remember Dad kicking and punching two holes through our passage door in one of his rages – a constant reminder was two stickers placed over the top to disguise the holes. I also remember when I was about four or five years old my Dad’s twin brother came to stay with us from interstate. The two of them together were a recipe for disaster! My Uncle always egged Dad on to drink all the more, and he, himself, was a very aggressive and violent drunk.

This night they went to the pub and got blind. As Dad drove home they got into an argument and my Uncle punched Dad in the side of the head as he was driving. How he didn’t crash, I’ll never know.

Unfortunately, when they got home the fight continued inside. Pot plants, cups and anything that was in sight got hurled around the room.

Of course, me with no fear tried to break up their fight and got knocked flying (I still to this day don’t hesitate to jump in the middle and break things up if I see violence. I just cannot sit back and watch a fight occur). The fight eventually came to an end when Dad knocked my Uncle unconscious – I clearly remember blood trickling down my Uncle’s ear.

I know all of this sounds terrible, and I’m certainly not excusing my Dad’s behaviour, but I truly have nothing but love for him, and my Mother feels the same. I think it’s because we have immense compassion for the terrible childhood he endured, and because without alcohol he really was a beautiful man with a big heart.

Mum and I understood that he drank to bury the demons from his beer-cars-city-576494childhood, as so many from that era did (and still do). Therapy in those days was just mumbo jumbo. Dad grew up very rough and very poor, with an alcoholic Mother (who had her own demons she was battling).

He walked to school in the middle of winter in bare feet and often had to steal just to survive. He was molested by one of the many men in his Mother’s life, and when he told his Mother about the abuse, she belted him and called him a filthy, rotten little liar. It’s hard to imagine the effect that must have had on a nine or ten-year-old little boy. Dad only ever told my Mum about this abuse once and refused to ever discuss it again. He didn’t even know that I knew about it.

There are so many other terrible situations that he endured, but it really would take a book not an article to describe.

Dad never played the victim though, or carried on about how hard his childhood was, in fact, he truly believed he had a normal childhood. I know all of this unprocessed pain is why he drank – it numbed his pain.

Dad tried so hard to stay away from alcohol, often abstaining for months at a time, but it always got the better of him. It didn’t help that his eldest alcoholic-beverages-back-view-beer-2076748daughter (my half sister) and his twin brother always encouraged him (on the phone) to drink. They used to think it was funny to cause trouble amongst our family unit.

In their eyes, Mum and I were trying to control Dad by being against his drinking. I guess it was okay for them living interstate and not having to put up with Dad’s violent outbursts. It was a constant battle between us and them, only our reasoning wasn’t about being spiteful or controlling; it was about wanting Dad to be the best version of himself, and of course, us wanting to live safely and peacefully within our own home.

Thankfully as Dad’s cancer progressed, he finally learnt to overcome his addiction and he really learnt the error of his ways. He was so remorseful and ashamed of what he had put us through for all of those years, and that gives Mum and I incredible peace to know he corrected that karmic lesson before he died.

It’s also very satisfying to know that we got to have some really great years with him that were completely alcohol free. This, along with understanding Dad’s childhood demons allows me to have not only great compassion for him, but loving forgiveness as well.

People used to tell my Mum (including me) to leave my Dad, but life really isn’t black and white. My Mum always said she couldn’t leave him; of course, part of her was scared to, but mostly it was because she loved him and knew that at his core, he was a good man who most likely would have drunk himself to death had she not stayed to fight for him.

I used to get angry at my Mum for not leaving him, but now (in some way) I admire that she stayed – she ultimately sacrificed herself in order to save him, and save him she certainly did!

Please note: this article is not encouraging women to stay in a violent relationship. The best option is always to leave such a situation. I’m simply highlighting that every situation has a grey area, and by some miracle in this case, my family had a happy ending to what was a very tumultuous and sometimes dangerous situation. One that we would rather have not experienced in the first place.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey

Grief Leaves A Scar

Grief is something that changes you forever, it never really goes away – you just learn to live with it…

It’s been seven and a half years since my Dad died after a fifteen-year cancer battle, and I have to say that I’m a much more emotionally sensitive person since his passing. I don’t walk around bereft everyday, but I certainly tear up quite easily at anything that has an element of human pain, suffering and loss. I guess you could say that Dad’s passing has taken my compassion for others to the next level, which I can’t say is necessarily a bad thing!

I’ve gone through all the different stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I would also add recklessness and self-sabotage in there. Each stage has had its obvious challenges that have come at different timeframes and varying degrees.

It took me five years before I was able to come to acceptance (it’s different for everyone). I remember the moment when I finally let go and just accepted this new reality of life without my beloved Father.

I was washing Dad’s vintage Mercedes Benz convertible, his prized possession. My Mum and I had just sold it to an interstate buyer – it was my job to get it ready for collection. Dad always kept the car immaculate, and I was determined to make it shine, just one last time.

As I washed and polished that car, I sobbed my little heart out. I could feel the last five years (or should I say twenty years) of pent up grief leaving me. This car was so symbolic of my Father’s essence, that in letting go of the car, I was essentially letting go of him. I felt so relieved that day, as if a dark cloud had been lifted.

It’s been two and a half years since I accepted Dad’s passing, and I have to say my life (through that grief) had become in such a state of disarray emotionally, spiritually, and financially, that I’m only just beginning to turn everything back around.

It’s been a very long and hard road to get here. I am thankful to be through the worst of it, but I now know the truth about losing a loved one:  Although you come to a place of acceptance, a deep pain remains – a heaviness in your heart.

An ex-colleague of mine once described it like having a scar: the pain is raw, severe in the beginning but fades over time. Every now and then you unintentionally knock the scar, and that pain from the rawness shoots through you and takes your breath away for a fleeting moment. The scar although faded, never goes away, that tenderness is always there.

I didn’t understand that analogy at the time of Dad’s death, but I certainly do now. I have loved, I have lost – although wiser, I am forever scarred!

Below is a poem I wrote about losing Dad.


 Saying goodbye is hard to do,

With how much we have all loved you.

It is not easy,

But we must go on.

You would want us to laugh and not cry.

Happiness is what we must try.

It is then we realise you have not died,

For your love and memories live inside us.

That is the truth that we must trust.

Don’t wallow in the death,

Just rejoice in the life.

That is the legacy this loss leaves behind.

In the midst of sadness, a warmth fills our hearts.

It’s the memories of our loved one coming to life through us.

This is the comfort that helps us go on.

In time, it brings a smile and replaces our tears,

It stands us in good stead throughout the rest of our years.

To have had the honour of loving you,

Is something so special we got to do.

Our life is better for having known you.

We are enriched and blessed with what you have left.

All we can do is be thankful to you,

For the time we were lucky enough to share with you.

Your love is in our hearts, and there it shall stay.

Yes, our memories of you will never fade.

So goodbye to you, at least for now.

We smile as you rest in peace, in God’s care you are now.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider hitting the follow button, signing up to my email list (bottom of the page for mobile devices, the side for desktop) or recommending my blog to a friend.

Thanks for reading.

– Stacey