Build Independence and Skills

14/04/2026

Family court isn’t just paperwork.
It’s mental gymnastics, emotional exhaustion, and second-guessing every sentence you write.

It’s sitting up late rereading affidavits wondering:

“Is this too much?”
“Is this not enough?”
“Am I being objective enough?”
“Am I protecting my child or overexplaining?”
“Will they understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Did I include enough evidence?”
“Did I include too much?”

It’s your brain running in overdrive trying to present years of lived reality in neat little paragraphs for people who were never there.

Trying to be factual without sounding cold.
Emotional without sounding unstable.
Protective without sounding controlling.
Concerned without sounding combative.

And all while carrying the crushing weight of knowing the decisions made in those rooms affect your children’s future.

People see “court documents.”
They don’t see the nervous system crash behind them.
The sleepless nights.
The obsessive reviewing.
The fear of getting it wrong.
The constant internal battle of:

“Am I doing the right thing for my kids?”

If you’re in that season right now ~
questioning yourself while trying to advocate for your children in a system that demands perfection from traumatised parents

You are not alone.

Some of the strongest parents I know have cried over affidavits at 2am.

Not because they’re dramatic.
Because they care.

Because when the stakes are your children,
“good enough” never feels good enough.

To anyone in the thick of it right now:

Doing your best in an impossible system still counts.
Even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

08/02/2026

08/02/2026

I’ve been quiet.

Not because the work stopped, but because safety came first.

When you’re dealing with stalking, boundary violations, and real-world risk, visibility isn’t always brave .....

sometimes it’s dangerous.

Silence doesn’t mean weakness.
Silence doesn’t mean disengagement.
Silence often means discernment.

I’m still here.

Still doing the work.

Still committed to truth-telling, survivor safety, and naming what systems don’t prepare you for.

I’m coming back slowly, intentionally, and on my own terms, because that’s what sustainable advocacy actually looks like.

If you’ve ever had to disappear to protect yourself, you’re not alone.

And you don’t owe anyone an explanation either.

02/02/2026

What step can you take today?

16/11/2025

Here’s the truth most people tiptoe around…

The child support system isn’t failing accidentally.
It’s failing because it’s being weaponised from every angle.

And the ones paying the price?
The children.
Every. Single. Time.

Because here’s what nobody wants to talk about:

Some parents weaponise the system to avoid paying —
hiding income, downplaying earnings, manipulating percentages, dodging enforcement, or outright disappearing.

But some parents weaponise the system to extract money —
withholding children, manipulating care arrangements, blocking time, or inflating “primary care” on paper purely to increase payments.

It’s not a gender issue.
It’s a behaviour issue.
It’s a system issue.
It’s a humanity issue.

And the ones actually raising their children — emotionally, financially, physically —
end up drowning in the middle.

The reality?

Child support is supposed to help children.
Instead, it often fuels conflict, control, fear, and financial abuse.

Because financial abuse doesn’t always look like “no money” —
Sometimes it looks like:

• keeping a child from the other parent to protect a higher percentage
• refusing to take a child on your allocated time so the other parent bears 100% of costs
• using payments as punishment
• using arrears to control someone’s mental state
• threatening to stop paying if you “don’t behave”
• lying to the system to game the numbers
• or relying on backlogs and loopholes to avoid accountability

And on the flip side…

• parents who WANT to see their kids but can’t
• parents paying huge amounts but still being told they’re “not enough”
• parents being emotionally blackmailed to pay extra or lose time
• parents financially crushed while the system shrugs

This isn’t parenting.
This is warfare.
This is systems failure.
This is abuse, dressed up as bureaucracy.

And THIS is why your evidence matters.

Not to “win.”
Not to hurt anyone.
Not to score points.

But because when the system is this broken,
your evidence becomes your only protection.

This is why I do what I do.

Because nobody teaches you how to document patterns.
Nobody teaches you what matters in court.
Nobody teaches you how to present your reality so the system

11/11/2025

$167,000 in unpaid Child Support.
$90,000. $60,000. $30,000.

These aren’t numbers ~ they’re childhoods interrupted.

The system is failing separated parents and the kids caught in between.

It’s time for accountability, transparency, and reform.

08/11/2025

Start Living

04/11/2025

🐎 Melbourne Cup Day: It’s Not All Fun and Games

Today, the nation stops for a race…
But behind closed doors, many families are holding their breath.

Melbourne Cup Day — just like State of Origin, Grand Final Day, New Year’s Eve — is a high-risk day for domestic violence.

📈 In 2017 alone, 1800 RESPECT reported a 17% increase in calls on Melbourne Cup Day.
Why?

Because when you combine alcohol, gambling losses, heightened emotions, group pressure and stress, you don’t create violence, but you remove the filter. The violence was already there.

For many women (and children), today isn’t about champagne and dresses.
It’s about watching the beers stack up, watching for the shift in tone, watching the clock, and preparing for the fallout.

👀 If you're a friend, neighbour, or bystander:

Don’t “mind your own business.”
Violence thrives in silence.

If you hear yelling, smashing, crying — don’t hesitate. Call Police.

If a friend hints at something, say:

“Are you safe?”
“That didn’t sit right — do you want to talk?”

Don’t second guess her. Believe her. Support her.

🧍‍♂️ If you're with your mates:

You can be the circuit breaker.

If someone is being sexist, toxic, aggressive to their partner — don’t laugh it off. Call it out.

Try this:

“That’s not on, bro.”
“She looks uncomfortable — give her space.”
“This isn’t who you are. Let’s bounce.”

Because if it was your daughter being spoken about, touched, or threatened — would you be okay with it?

We need men to call out other men. It works. It matters. It saves lives.

🧍‍♂️ If you're a man who knows he’s gone too far before:

You might blame the drink. But it’s not the drink. It’s the behaviour.
And behaviour can change.

Today, choose a different ending.

Walk away.
Put the drink down.
Call a mate.
Get help tomorrow.

Accountability doesn’t make you weak, it makes you ready to change.

💔 And if you’re a victim:

You are not overreacting.
You are not imagining it.
You do not deserve this.

Have a safety plan. Have someone ready to message.
Leave if you need to. You don’t have to wait for it to “get bad enough.”
Your life matters.

📞 Support Services

1800 RESPECT – 24/7 support for anyone experiencing abuse

20/10/2025

This one feels personal.

Last week, I found myself in a dark place. No big trigger, just that quiet heaviness that creeps in when life feels too much.

On Thursday, I did something for myself. Something that felt terrifying and healing at the same time.

I volunteered for a curvy model bo***ir shoot, not because I felt confident, but because I wanted to remember what self-acceptance feels like and to empower others to do the same.

I’ve carried children. I’ve carried trauma. I’ve carried expectations about what a body “should” look like. And I’ve hidden behind those stories for far too long.

This wasn’t my first bo***ir shoot. I did one a few years ago, but this time felt completely different. I wasn’t doing it to prove anything. I did it because I’m tired of hiding. I’ve survived abuse, motherhood, trauma, and change, and I wanted to finally see myself, not the version the world told me to be ashamed of.

When I saw these photos, I cried. Not out of shame, but out of release. Because for the first time, I saw what others have seen all along: strength, softness, resilience.

These images aren’t sexual. They’re human. They show a 45-year-old mum who has lived, who has scars and stories, and who’s learning not to apologise for either.

For anyone leaving domestic violence, healing from trauma, or trying to remember who they are underneath the shame, this is what reclaiming yourself looks like.

To every woman who’s ever hesitated to be seen, this is your permission slip. To stop hiding. To stop letting shame tell your story. To see yourself through gentler eyes.

📸 Thank you, Lisha Evans Bo***ir Photographer, for creating such a safe, judgment-free space.
You helped me see me again.