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 (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

  • 40 things to do – Before I Turn 40 (1)

    40 things to do – Before I Turn 40 (1)

    1. Start and finish a project

    In mid-2025, after 2 years in therapy, I was diagnosed with ADHD, Autism, and CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress) and cumulative childhood trauma. A mixed bag of tricks, really. Labels that, on one hand, offered clarity… and on the other, opened a door I wasn’t entirely prepared to walk through.

    One of the hardest parts of receiving these diagnoses wasn’t the names themselves, it was what came next. Or more accurately, what didn’t.

    Without a known family history, and without anyone who could collaborate with psychiatrists to build a clearer picture of my developmental past, medication for ADHD wasn’t an option available to me. Instead, I was prescribed medication for anxiety and depression, conditions that had quietly wrapped themselves around everything else for years.

    And then there’s the reality of being an almost 40-year-old, perimenopausal woman. Because when those diagnoses landed, so did everything else.

    The floodgates didn’t just open, they collapsed. Suddenly, I wasn’t just living my life, I was reprocessing it. Every reaction, every coping mechanism, every moment that once felt like a personal flaw began to make a different kind of sense. My nervous system, my trauma responses, the way my brain worked – it all had context now.

    But insight without support can feel like standing at the edge of something vast, with no clear way forward.

    I found myself holding this new understanding, but without the tools, structure, or guidance to know how to turn it into healing. No clear roadmap. Just awareness. Raw and overwhelming.

    So I did the only thing that felt remotely within reach.

    I sat down… and I made a list.

    A list of 40 things I wanted to achieve by the time I turned 40. Not because I needed more pressure, but because I needed direction. Something to hold onto. Something that felt like movement, even if it was small.

    At the top of that list was the big, heavy stuff: trauma, my nervous system, the way my body responds to stress and safety. The lifelong patterns I knew I couldn’t ignore anymore.

    But I also knew I couldn’t start there. So I chose something simple. Finish a craft project.

    It sounds almost insignificant, especially when placed next to words like trauma and healing. But if you live with ADHD, you’ll understand – unfinished tasks don’t just sit quietly in the background. They linger. They loop. They occupy space in your mind in a way that feels disproportionate but very real.

    Each unfinished project becomes a small echo of “not quite,” a quiet reminder of things left undone. I wanted to change that.

    I wanted to know what it felt like to complete something. To close the loop. To free up that mental space, even just a little, in the hope that it might create momentum for the bigger, harder things waiting further down the list.

    The project I chose was something I genuinely wanted to try – crocheting. Or at least, the idea of it. The rhythm, the creativity, the sense of calm it promised.

    But the truth? I didn’t finish. I couldn’t quite master it. My attention drifted, my frustration crept in, and somewhere along the way, it became another unfinished thing. And yet… I’m still here, talking about it.

    Because maybe the point isn’t perfection, or even completion – not yet anyway. Maybe the point is the willingness to try. To notice the patterns. To gently challenge them, even when the outcome isn’t what I hoped for.

    This list of 40 things—it was never really about ticking boxes. It’s about learning how to work with my brain, instead of constantly feeling like I’m working against it. It’s about soothing my nervous system, not forcing it. It’s about finding small, manageable ways to build trust with myself again.

    So maybe the crochet project isn’t finished. But something else has begun – I started documenting my “40 things to do” via my Instagram page, and this became my new project! To keep me motivated – I took photos, documented the process – and of course added a cool accompanying track to celebrate the music of 86′. This items track was: Lionel Richie’s “Dancing on the Ceiling”

    Stay tuned – for more 40 things to do before turning 40!

    🤍 K

  • Three Reasons to Rise

    After almost forty years of trauma, I am starting to learn what it means to rise.

    The year before I turn forty, something inside me shifted. A quiet voice — one I’d ignored for decades — whispered that it was time to right the wrongs, to mend what had been broken, and to build the life I always wanted. Not just for me, but for my three children. They have been my constants, my witnesses, my reasons. My three lights in every darkness.

    So I wrote a list.
    A list of the things I wanted to achieve before I step into my fourth decade. Some dreams were gentle, almost shy. Others were bold enough to scare me. But every single one was rooted in a simple intention: to choose myself, perhaps for the first time.
    To heal — really heal — from a lifetime of wounds that I’ve carried in silence.

    I want to enter forty with love in my heart, hope in my bones, and space in my life for joy. I want my children to look at me and see not just a mother who survived, but a woman who chose to rise. I want them to know that despite everything — every trauma we endured together, every storm we walked through — we are still a family stitched together by love, not brokenness. And that love, not trauma, has made every one of our victories possible.

    My hope is for healing. True healing. The kind that doesn’t just patch the surface but reaches deep and finally unclenches the past.

    This is the start. I’m writing it all down — whether it’s ever read by others or not. If no one else sees these words, they will still be for me. A record of the beginning. A place to put the pain, the progress, and the prayers. My trauma journal, my truth, my turning.

    And this is only the beginning.

    So here I am: choosing to rise, choosing to hope, choosing to lead with my heart and believe in a future filled with more love than loss.

    🤍 K