Quiet Unfiltered Notes: From the Fire

My last two posts have been me struggling. Not lightly. Not in a polished, controlled way. Real struggle. The kind that sits in your chest. The kind that doesn’t resolve itself just because you decide to “have a better day.” There has been quiet moments this week that have felt like I am spiralling into madness And yet, at the same time, something else has been happening. I’ve been finding my way back into my work. Back into Refined by Fire Press . Back into something that feels like it matters beyond just how I feel in the moment. And that tension has been strange to sit in. Because part of me has been in the middle of processing heavy internal things. While another part of me has been quietly, steadily moving forward. Not perfectly. Not consistently. It's been messy and chaotic at its core  But I am moving. And tonight, I feel that clearly. Because tonight I’m sitting here, not just reflecting on what I’ve been through this week… But working on something. A book. And even writing...

As I move through my Wednesday, getting a few small jobs done around the house, I brew my third coffee for the day. I can feel something sitting with me anger mixed with anxiety—as I replay what feels like a series of movie trilogies running through my mind. I find myself searching for a place to lay down a life marked by pain, trauma, and a history that often felt like it was surrounded by exit signs. There are days where the present feels steady. Days where life feels grounded. Where the rhythm is manageable. Where your thoughts are aligned and your emotions don’t pull you apart. And then there are days like this. Days where the past doesn’t just visit. It lingers. It doesn’t knock politely. It sits in the room. And no matter what I’m doing washing dishes, moving through the house, trying to stay present it runs in the background like a film I didn’t choose to play. That’s what today feels like. Not one memory. Not one moment. But a sequence. Scenes layered on top of each other. Mome...

As I sat down to write this entry, this blog, I realised something again that I’ve known for a long time but sometimes forget in the middle of everything. These entries these daily writings… they’ve always been my safe place. Not safe in the sense of comfort. But safe in the sense of honesty. This is where I wrestle. This is where I struggle. This is where I don’t have to pretend that everything is steady when it’s not. And today if I’m honest Mentally has been a rock bottom day in so many areas. Not one of those days where things feel slightly off. Not one of those days where you can just push through it and keep moving. One of those days where something feels heavy from the moment you wake up. Where your mind doesn’t feel like it’s working with you. Where your thoughts don’t line up cleanly. I have struggled with fear. Real fear. Not always logical. Not always connected to what’s actually happening in front of me. But present. Persistent. I have struggled with feeling overwhelmed. Ju...

A Different Kind of Monday It’s Monday morning. Not Sunday. And that shift matters more than I expected. Because Sunday carries rest… but Monday carries reality. Last week I completed orientation, and now I’m stepping into something that doesn’t feel settled yet. There’s no rhythm. No confidence in routine. No sense of familiarity that I can lean on. Just movement into something unknown. And if I’m being honest, I can feel the weight of that. A Season I Didn’t Prepare For This isn’t just a new job. It’s a completely different season of life. And it’s come with a kind of pressure I wasn’t ready for. Because in a very short space of time, things that were constant for years are suddenly gone. No Runaway Bay after 13 years. No Woolworths . No familiar structure. No place where I automatically know where I fit. And I didn’t realise how much of my sense of stability was tied into those things until they were removed. What Those Years Actually Built When I look back now, those years weren’t...

As Sunday rolls around and I sit here with my first cup of coffee for today, there is a sense of excitement in the air. The coffee is strong enough to wake up my ancestors, and for the first time since Friday afternoon, it feels like I have finally recovered from my first week at Gold Coast University Hospital . Even though my week technically ended then, it didn’t really end. Not internally. It’s taken until now, sitting here in the quiet of a Sunday morning, for my body to catch up with what my mind and emotions have been processing all week. And that says something. There are certain weeks that pass through your life without leaving much behind. Routine weeks. Predictable weeks. Weeks where you move through your days, and by the time Sunday arrives, you’ve already mentally reset. But this wasn’t one of those weeks. This was a week that took something out of me. Not in a negative way. But in a real way. A stretching way. A way that left me feeling like I had stepped into something ne...

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” When a Prayer Becomes a Framework for Living There are certain words that sit lightly on the surface of your life until one day they don’t. Until one day they stop being something you quote and start becoming something you need. This prayer is one of those. Because on the surface, it sounds simple. It sounds contained. It sounds like something you could frame and place on a wall, something that belongs in quiet reflection rather than real life. But the deeper I walk with God, the more I realise this prayer is not soft. It is not decorative. It is surgical. It reaches into places I would rather avoid. It confronts things I have tried to outgrow without actually facing. It exposes the tension between control and surrender in a way that leaves no middle ground. And if I’m honest, I didn’t understand it when my life was more comfortable. I underst...

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it actually means to be shaped by an environment. Not inspired by it. Not stirred for a moment and then back to normal. But reshaped—quietly, consistently, and without asking permission. Because walking into the corridors of Gold Coast University Hospital isn’t like stepping into a place that bends to you. It doesn’t slow down so you can gather your thoughts. It doesn’t pause so you can feel ready. It moves with a kind of urgency that doesn’t care about your internal state. And somewhere in the middle of that movement, I’ve started to realise something that’s difficult to explain unless you’ve stood in it: This place is not just training me. It’s exposing me. As I reflect on my first week—one that started last week on the 13th of April—I can’t help but feel overwhelmed, but not in the way I expected. It’s not just pressure. It’s not just fatigue. It’s this strange tension of being stretched and, at the same time, deeply aware that something s...