It Was Never Just About a Documentary

6 November 2026

Dear Diary,

I have so much to say and yet I can’t pick up my camera. I’m actively avoiding it if I’m truthful. Because I know I’m still far too close to everything that’s happened to be able to say any of it calmly.

And quite frankly, that’s simply because I don’t feel calm about any of it.

In fact, none of it. At all.

Every single time I think about what happened on Wednesday, I become angry, upset, my physical anxiety levels and sensations all increase, and I instantly feel like I’m going to cry big fat ugly tears in a state where I can hardly breathe.

Every single time I think about it.

Which is ALL THE TIME!

Well, at least when I’m not actively avoiding it by watching documentaries on Netflix.

The very thing that started it all!

Can you believe that?!?

A FUCKING DOCUMENTARY!!

And all because I simply wanted to watch a god damn documentary in peace.

Something I’d deliberately avoided learning too much about for over two years because I wanted to wait until there was something I actually felt interested in watching.

It was about Raygun, the Australian breakdancer from the 2024 Olympics.

I’d never even watched her actual performance!

And before putting the documentary on, I explained all of this, nice and calmly, to both Merv and Luke.

All I asked was that nobody talk about it or spoil anything for me.

Honestly, how hard is that?!?

Oh, how much I wish I’d just gone into my bedroom, told the guys I wanted some time to myself and shut the door.

Especially considering that’s exactly what I ended up doing anyway!

Now, for some context, because that’s always important for a good story. Although I am getting lessons from Chatty about how to make my writing flow better and actually make sense! 😂

It’s a steady process, but I’ll get there.

Anyway.

Luke has been staying with Merv and me for the past six weeks.

When he first came down to Victoria, we thought he was coming to visit for a weekend, maybe a week.

We later discovered that things weren’t going particularly well for him. He’d quit his job and had been sleeping in his truck for weeks.

So we welcomed him into our home.

We made him part of our little family.

And I did absolutely everything I possibly could to help him get himself sorted out. Financially, practically, emotionally, everything.

Even when doing so was making things harder for me.

And I don’t regret helping him. I genuinely cared about him and wanted him to succeed.

I still do!

That’s what makes this all so bloody difficult.

Anyway, back to Wednesday.

Merv and I started watching the documentary, and within minutes Luke was coming in from the kitchen and telling us things about it.

I immediately paused it and asked him to please stop.

He continued.

I explained again that I’d purposely avoided watching anything about it and that I didn’t want to know what happened before watching it myself.

But apparently, because everyone already knew about it, there was no point in me wanting to watch it without hearing all about it first.

Umm, HELLO?!?

THAT WAS THE ENTIRE FUCKING POINT!!

I didn’t know everything about it because I’d deliberately avoided it!

And I really don’t care whether he thought it was just a stupid documentary. It was something I wanted to watch, and I’d asked him nicely, more than once, to please stop ruining it for me.

But he just kept going.

Now, anyone who’s been following my diary recently knows just how badly I’ve been struggling physically.

I’m barely able to walk properly. I’m in an enormous amount of pain, my anxiety is through the roof, I’m exhausted, and I’m genuinely frightened about what’s happening to my body.

And all I wanted was to sit on the couch in my own home and watch something that interested me.

Was that really too much to ask?

Eventually, I got so frustrated that I told Luke to piss off.

Yep. I said it.

And he went outside.

I tried to settle myself down and continue watching, but I was already feeling absolutely awful.

And then came the part with Merv.

For those who have followed my story from my time in Queensland, you’ll know that it was an incredibly traumatic time in my life.

Things happened while I was living with Merv that affected me more than I can possibly explain in one blog post.

Horrible rumours were being spread about me, and I felt completely isolated, trapped and abandoned.

I repeatedly begged Merv to step in and help me.

Just to say something.

To have a conversation.

To stand up for me when I couldn’t keep doing it all myself.

But that support never came when I desperately needed it.

And my mental health deteriorated to the point where I started self-harming again after years of not doing so.

That entire experience has stayed with me.

So when something happens now and I ask Merv to please step in and help, it’s not because I expect him to fight my battles for me.

It’s because sometimes a simple conversation from someone else can stop a situation from getting completely out of hand.

And on Wednesday, that’s exactly what I needed.

I explained this to him.

He acknowledged what I said.

Agreed with me.

And then went straight back to watching the documentary.

I just sat there.

I couldn’t believe it.

So I asked him again.

And once again, nothing.

And instantly, all those horrible feelings from Queensland came flooding back.

Once again, I wasn’t worth someone taking one minute to help me.

That’s how it felt.

And I was already so upset about Luke!

So I went outside for a cigarette.

And this is the part that’s important, because what happened next has since been described to me in a way that is completely different from what I experienced.

When I first went outside, I tried again to calmly explain to Luke why I’d become so upset.

I wasn’t screaming abuse at him.

I wasn’t attacking him.

I was trying to explain why something so simple had become so frustrating.

But he kept dismissing what I was saying.

It was just a stupid show.

Everyone knew about it anyway.

There were far more important things in the world.

And I’m sitting there thinking, WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LISTEN TO WHAT I’M SAYING?!?

Why does it matter whether you think the documentary is stupid?

I wanted to watch it!

That’s all!

By this point I was so far past feeling hurt and frustrated that when I got up to find a lighter, I swore while saying something to him.

Do I remember exactly what I said?

No.

And I’m not going to pretend I do.

But I know I was angry.

And yes, maybe the way I spoke came across as swearing at him rather than simply swearing because I was upset.

I can acknowledge that.

But when I came back outside, he was absolutely furious with me.

Apparently, I’d completely disrespected him.

And suddenly, that was all that mattered.

Not the fact that I’d asked him repeatedly to stop doing something that was upsetting me.

Not the fact that he’d continued dismissing everything I said.

Not the fact that I was already struggling enormously.

Just that I’d sworn.

And I couldn’t believe the way the whole situation was being turned around.

At some point he asked whether he should just leave.

Both Merv and I made it very clear that nobody was asking him to leave.

We would never do that to someone.

Especially knowing his circumstances!

But things had become so upsetting that I eventually decided I’d had enough.

I went into my bedroom, shut the door and put the documentary on my own television.

I just wanted to be left alone.

Merv did eventually go outside and talk to Luke. In fact, they apparently spoke for quite some time.

But by then, I was already completely overwhelmed.

And that’s what hurt so much.

Because that was precisely what I’d asked Merv to do in the first place, before everything got so out of hand!

A simple conversation could have avoided so much of what happened.

But anyway.

I could still hear them talking outside my bedroom window, and from what I could hear, I felt like I was being made out to be the one who’d caused everything.

I felt absolutely worthless.

Then I started hearing the storage containers being moved around.

And I immediately knew what was happening.

Luke was packing his belongings.

He’d decided to leave.

Without even coming to talk to me.

After six weeks of living with us, being welcomed into our family and everything we’d done to help him get back on his feet, he was just packing his things and leaving.

I couldn’t fucking believe it.

I went outside and sure enough, that’s exactly what he was doing.

I was so hurt.

So bloody hurt.

Because here’s someone I’d done absolutely everything I could for, even when I was struggling myself, and apparently I wasn’t worth a single conversation before he made the decision to move out.

Nobody told him to leave.

Nobody wanted him homeless.

Nobody was throwing him out.

And yet he’d made this enormous decision over something that could have been resolved with a simple conversation!

When I went back into my bedroom, I completely broke.

And I mean completely.

I cried so hard I could barely breathe.

Because it wasn’t just about Luke.

It was every single time throughout my life that I’ve given everything I possibly could to someone, only to feel discarded when I’ve finally stood up for myself.

Every time I’ve tried to explain that something hurt me and somehow ended up being made to feel like I was the problem.

Every time I’ve desperately needed someone to understand me and ended up feeling even more alone than before.

I felt used.

Taken for granted.

Thrown away.

Like everything I’d done meant absolutely nothing.

And I know that sounds dramatic to some people.

But that’s genuinely how I felt.

Eventually, Luke came into my bedroom because he’d heard me crying.

He said he couldn’t leave knowing I was so upset.

And then proceeded to tell me that he’d already acknowledged what he’d done wrong and apologised when I first went outside, and that I’d then started screaming abuse at him.

Except that isn’t what happened!

When I first went outside, I was trying to explain myself!

He continued dismissing me, and THAT was when I became angry and swore.

He insisted he’d apologised.

But I never heard any such apology.

And I certainly haven’t received one since that acknowledges what actually upset me.

Instead, I was being told that my behaviour was the problem.

And then, to make matters worse, he told me that I wouldn’t be able to manage living on my own and suggested that the way I treat people is the reason I’m alone.

I don’t even know how to explain how much that hurt.

I’ve lived independently for ten years, thank you very much!

And considering how much I’ve done to help him, to hear something like that was just devastating.

I told him to leave my room.

I couldn’t cope with any more.

And that was Wednesday.

It’s now Friday night.

Two days later.

And I’m STILL sitting here feeling absolutely awful about what happened.

But something has changed.

Luke has been calling and messaging me, including several times tonight.

I haven’t responded.

Not because I want to hurt him, but because I genuinely don’t want to have another conversation where I’m left feeling like nothing I’m saying is being heard.

One of his messages tonight told me to stay strong.

And all I could think was…

I AM STRONG!!

I’ve been strong my entire fucking life!

I’ve survived things I never imagined I’d survive.

I’ve lost so much.

I’ve started over more times than I care to count.

And here I am, dealing with some of the worst physical health problems I’ve ever experienced, trying to work out what’s happening to my body while barely being able to walk some days.

I’m already doing everything I can to hold myself together.

But apparently, even now, I’m still worrying about everyone else.

Because the more I thought about Luke leaving, the more I wondered whether he actually meant to go.

Maybe he was just angry and thought I’d come running out and ask him to stay.

Maybe he thought I’d beg him not to leave.

I don’t know.

But I do know that he told us several times while living here that he’d never felt so accepted before.

He was happy here.

He was part of our family.

And now he’s gone, with nowhere permanent to call home.

He’s working away and has accommodation while he’s on certain jobs, but what happens when he’s not working?

Where is he going to go?

And suddenly, on top of EVERYTHING else I was feeling, I was worried sick about that too!

And I felt guilty.

I felt guilty even though neither Merv nor I asked him to leave.

I felt guilty even though I’ve done everything I possibly could to help him.

I felt guilty even though I’m still waiting for him to actually acknowledge why I became so upset in the first place.

WHY DO I ALWAYS FEEL RESPONSIBLE FOR MAKING SURE EVERYONE ELSE IS OKAY?!?

Seriously!

When is it my turn?

When do I get to be the person who’s hurting and have someone else stop and consider how I’m feeling?

Why am I sitting here worrying about someone who made his own decision to leave, while I’m still trying to recover from how that decision made me feel?

And then something happened tonight that really made me think.

Merv was on the phone to Luke.

I could hear parts of the conversation, and I heard Merv repeatedly asking Luke to let him speak.

And Luke just kept talking over him.

Again.

And again.

To the point where I actually called out from my bedroom, “Just hang up on him!”

Merv warned him that if he wouldn’t let him speak, he’d end the conversation.

And eventually he did.

Because Luke still wouldn’t stop talking!

DO YOU SEE THE IRONY HERE?!?

The entire situation started because I couldn’t get him to stop talking long enough to respect what I was asking of him.

And two days later, Merv can’t even get a word in to explain his perspective!

And yet, from what I heard, the only thing Luke still wanted to focus on was the way I’d spoken to him outside.

Not what had led up to it.

Not why I was so upset.

Not what he could have done differently.

Just my reaction.

And that’s when something really started to change for me.

Because I realised I’m not actually responsible for making him understand.

I can explain myself until I’m blue in the face.

Merv can explain it too.

But if someone isn’t willing to listen, what else can I possibly do?

I’ve acknowledged that I became angry and swore.

I’ve acknowledged that I could have handled that part differently.

But I’m not going to take responsibility for an entire situation that involved more than just me.

Taking responsibility for my own behaviour does not mean accepting responsibility for everyone else’s.

And that’s something I really need to remember.

Especially because I’ve spent so much of my life doing exactly that.

Trying to keep everyone happy.

Trying to make sure nobody feels hurt.

Trying to fix everyone else’s problems.

Trying to make sure everyone has somewhere to go, something to eat, someone to talk to, whatever they need.

Even when I’m barely coping myself.

And sometimes, somewhere along the way, I completely lose myself.

Well, I’m not doing that anymore.

There’s something else I want to make very clear tonight.

I’ve always been open about my mental health on my YouTube channel.

That’s not going to change.

I’ve spoken about depression, trauma, anxiety, suicidal ideation and some incredibly dark periods of my life.

Because they’re part of my story.

And I know there are people watching who experience those things too.

I’ve always hoped that by being open about my experiences, someone somewhere might feel a little less alone.

But I want to make something absolutely clear.

I AM NOT SUICIDAL.

Yes, following everything that happened on Wednesday, I experienced some very dark feelings for a little while.

Yes, I was incredibly distressed.

Yes, I cried uncontrollably.

And yes, I was struggling to cope with everything I was feeling at the time.

But those feelings have passed.

I’m not sitting here wanting to hurt myself.

I’m not falling apart.

In fact, the more I’ve thought about everything that’s happened, the stronger I’ve started to feel.

Because I’ve realised something.

I’m allowed to have boundaries.

And not only am I allowed to have them, I’m allowed to actually stick to them!

I’m allowed to tell someone that something they’re doing is upsetting me.

I’m allowed to ask them to stop.

I’m allowed to remove myself from a situation when I’m uncomfortable.

And I’m allowed to decide that I don’t want to continue a conversation when I don’t feel like I’m being heard.

I don’t have to answer every phone call.

I don’t have to respond to every message.

I don’t have to explain myself over and over again just because someone doesn’t like what I’m saying.

And I certainly don’t have to let someone else dictate what I’m allowed to think, feel or talk about on MY OWN DIARY!

Seriously!

This is my life.

My experiences.

My thoughts.

My feelings.

And MY story.

Nobody else gets to decide which parts I’m allowed to share.

That doesn’t mean I have the right to mistreat people, or that I shouldn’t consider how what I say affects others.

Of course I should.

But being considerate of other people doesn’t mean I have to silence myself.

And being strong doesn’t mean I should never cry.

It doesn’t mean I should never get angry.

It doesn’t mean I should never feel overwhelmed.

Being strong doesn’t mean being completely unaffected by the things that hurt you.

Something else I’ve realised is that I can care about someone without being responsible for them.

I can want Luke to be safe.

I can hope things work out for him.

I can genuinely wish him every success in the world.

And I can do all of those things while knowing that I don’t want to live with him again.

Those feelings aren’t contradictory.

They’re simply how I feel.

And I don’t have to apologise for that.

Before Wednesday, we’d been talking about the possibility of getting a bigger house together.

Moving back to Melbourne.

Having a beautiful home with enough space for all of us.

And for a while, I genuinely thought that was what I wanted.

But I’ve realised that what I really want is my own home.

My own space.

Somewhere I can feel completely comfortable.

Somewhere I don’t have to explain why something is important to me.

Somewhere I can sit down and watch a fucking documentary without it turning into a three-day emotional nightmare!

Wouldn’t that be nice?!? 😂

I know living alone might not be easy.

Especially financially.

But I’ve done it before.

For ten years!

And after everything I’ve been through, I think I deserve the opportunity to have that peace again.

I deserve to feel comfortable in my own home.

I deserve to feel respected.

And I deserve to have relationships where I’m not constantly putting everyone else’s wellbeing ahead of my own.

Which brings me back to why I’m writing all of this tonight.

I still haven’t picked up my camera.

Not because I’m too weak.

Not because I’m falling apart.

And certainly not because I’ve got nothing to say!

GOOD GOD, HAVE I GOT PLENTY TO SAY!! 😂

But because I’ve realised that I don’t have to force myself to do something when I know it’s not going to be good for me.

I’m still angry about what happened.

I’m still hurt.

And I know that if I start talking about it on camera right now, I’m probably going to become overwhelmed all over again.

So I’m choosing to write instead.

Because writing is still telling my story.

And I think that’s something important for me to learn too.

I don’t have to keep pushing myself to do things simply because I feel like I should.

Sometimes I can just say, “Not today.”

And that’s okay.

As for everything that’s happened with Luke, I don’t know what happens next.

But I do know that I no longer feel responsible for fixing it.

I’ve said how I feel.

I’ve acknowledged my part in what happened.

And I’m not going to keep having the same conversation over and over again while everything I’ve tried to explain continues to be dismissed.

If someone wants to have a genuine conversation with me, they have to be willing to listen too.

It’s really that simple.

And perhaps that’s the biggest thing I’ve taken away from all of this.

For so much of my life, I’ve been afraid of losing people.

Afraid of upsetting them.

Afraid of letting them down.

Afraid of ending up alone.

And somewhere along the way, I’ve repeatedly allowed those fears to become more important than my own wellbeing.

But I’m beginning to understand that I can lose myself trying desperately not to lose other people.

And I don’t want to keep doing that.

I’m 40 years old.

I’ve been through enough.

I’ve survived enough.

And I’m finally starting to understand that protecting my own peace isn’t selfish.

It’s necessary.

So yes, I’m still hurt.

And yes, there are things about Wednesday that I wish had never happened.

But I’m not sitting here feeling hopeless anymore.

Quite the opposite.

I feel like I’ve finally reached a point where I’m willing to stand by the boundaries I’m putting in place.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.

Even when someone doesn’t like them.

Even when that little voice in my head starts telling me that I should be doing more to make sure everybody else is okay.

Because I matter too.

My feelings matter.

My health matters.

My peace matters.

And I’m not going to keep forgetting that simply because someone else needs something from me.

So, to anyone who’s been worried about me, please know that I’m okay.

I’m still dealing with an enormous amount physically, and that’s frightening enough on its own.

But emotionally, I’m actually feeling stronger than I have in quite some time.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from everything that’s happened this week, it’s that being strong isn’t about never getting upset.

Sometimes it’s about finally deciding that you’re not going to keep allowing the same things to hurt you.

I’m still kind. I’m still caring. And I’ll probably always worry far too much about other people.

But I’m learning that I can be all of those things without abandoning myself.

And that’s a pretty bloody important lesson, if you ask me!

All of this because I wanted to watch a documentary.

Who would have thought?!? 🤦‍♀️😂

Anyway, that’s enough from me for tonight.

I’m going to give myself permission to have a quiet night, look after myself and hopefully get some much-needed rest.

Because for once, I’m choosing to put myself first.

And I’m not going to feel guilty about it.

This is my life. This is my story. And this is mine. 💚

11:42 PM