I’ll be honest - I’ve never been one of those people who knows what they want to do with their life. 
In year 12, when my careers teacher asked me the classic “So what do you want to be?” I said the only thing that came to mind: “Happy.”
Her response? “That’s not right.” 
Seriously? I thought. 
I was sitting there wondering if happiness or success required a corporate title, a degree, and an outfit that sparks a sensory nightmare. Sounds like absolute hell if you ask me. 

So, I did what any year 12 student with no idea about what they wanted did, I applied for a Myotherapy course as I had to pick something before the universe smacked me with responsibility. I got in… then the anxiety struck that I didn’t want to be touching peoples bodies for a living. I quickly deferred and worked on the farm with Dad. Instead I was covered in cow shit most days, pulling calves, fixing fences and irrigation systems, maintaining machinery and making hay.
 

That year life hit hard. 
My mum died - suddenly, unexpectedly. 
Everything shifted. 

I stayed close to home, continued working on the farm, helped dad more around the home and eventually took on a traineeship in Allied Health so I could keep an eye on Dad. I felt there was so much responsibility for me to be at home. But I also didn’t know where else to be.

Towards the end of my traineeship I began questioning what it was I wanted to do again. This time it felt right, I applied for photography and photojournalism. I loved it. I finished in the top 15% of my class, then did some work at a local newspaper… and absolutely hated it. It was chaotic, impersonal, and full of assignments I didn’t care about, darting here and there all in one day. It drained every creative cell in my body and the editor at the time... let's just say he was an arrogant prick.

When my partner got an apprenticeship, we moved to Melbourne. I let photography slip through my fingers. Uni had taught me how to use a camera but not how to build a business, market myself, or find my place in the industry. So once again, I was lost. Burnt out from all the assignments. I had nothing left to give. No desire to pick my camera up nor the desire to photograph any family event.

A couple of years later our daughter arrived 15 weeks early. We were broke. Life felt like one long fight, but she fought, I fought, and somehow we made it. Nine years later, we still face challenges, but we’re here. I photographed everything: her tiny hands, her strength, the moments no one else saw. Without realising it, I was documenting the beginning of what I’d be doing now.
Since having her we have been discovering our own world even more. Who we are as people and why hell we struggle to cope with so much in our day to day life. Hello neurodivents. I welcome you all. 
Just don’t come over unexpectedly...

A few years later when our girl was 4, we moved back to our home town and started shaping the life we’d imagined…but the week we moved in to our new build, Melbourne went into the big lockdown and COVID turned the world inside out, talk about timing! I quit my job down there and stepped back into Allied health. It mostly involved doing testing and door screening: aka, front-row seats to humanity at its worst. Fear turned people into absolute monsters. 
Even thinking about it now is traumatising.

Then out of the blue, someone asked if I was still taking photos and whether I’d shoot for their business.
So I did.
And something lit up inside me again. 
More people reached out. It was terrifying, because I’m a perfectionist at what I do and the fear of not doing well sat with me and sometimes got the better of me… but the spark kept burning. One shoot led to another. I was no longer feeling so lost. 

My style is still evolving. I’m still learning where to place my energy, my time, my heart. I wont take on everything, because I simply I don’t want to. My mental health and my family mean too much to me to be burnt out and overstimulated. 

So here I am - creating images filled with connection, tenderness, and meaning.
And for the first time, being “happy” feels like the right answer and just saying that feels like I have succeeded in this world.

I hope you have that too and one day you get to share your story with me.