I've spent the past decade traveling the world as a comedienne, telling all manner of personal stories. Stories that are hilarious, embarrassing, shameful, heartbreaking, mortifying and downright silly.
Vulnerability hangovers? Check.
The occasional swear-bomb? Double check.
I've shared these stories with one single intention - if I can help even ONE audience member feel better about their own life by sharing a story from mine, then I've succeeded.
It's become my WHY. My biggest motivator and the reason why I share from the stage, or help my clients birth their stories out into the world.
Sharing my story has allowed me to travel the world, literally doing what lights me up in a really liberated way.
Sharing my story has moved me from perpetual chaos and clusterfuckery, and into calm, clarity, and total contentment (well, it's a work in progress).
Sharing my story has allowed me to coach hundreds of clients in sharing their story. And watching them blossom and bloom is the greatest gift.
Sharing my story has allowed me to completely step into my power, own my truth, and create a business and life that I'm really proud of.
Sharing my story has given me access to a whole greater depth of connection - to myself, to my clients, to my craft, to humanity.
Truth speaking and truth seeking. Liberation through laughter. Authenticity. Chasing big dreams. Good coffee. Quality French Champagne.
Straight talk, French champagne, short emails. Saying 'no thanks' to make more room for 'hell yes'. Taking risks and anticipating reward.
Creating shows, stories and moments to connect. Deep in conversation with my clients. Babychino dates with my little man and wine time with my big one.
Morning affirmations, cuddles in bed with my boys, bullet proof coffee at my local cafe. Studio Pilates class, and a slightly obsessive skincare routine.
The fact that we get ONE chance at this lifetime. JUST ONE. I'm continually curious as to how we can maximise it audaciously, authentically, and without apology.
I had a super happy, conventional childhood. I grew up in a tiny town called Bombo, on the NSW South Cost. It was a tiny town that had a population of about 30, along with a sewerage works, a cemetery, and a beach prone to sharks.
Not exactly the cosmopolitan capital of the country.
Mum was a primary school teacher, Dad had a job with the local council, and my little brother did normal kid things like run up and down the street stark naked and stick dragonflies in Mums cup of tea. Me? Well, I was an annoyingly over-achieving do-gooder, who made the neighbours sit through 60 minute Julie Andrews impersonations.
I loved to sing and (tried to) dance. I was obsessed with all things musical theatre, speech & drama, and for a brief while I had an identity crisis where I truly believed I was Olivia Newton-John from Grease. I even begged my Mum to let me get my hair permed so I looked like her.
I was 8.
(Fun fact: she obliged...but only let me get my FRINGE permed. Good times).
Then, my happy, musical-theatre obsessed world was rocked when I found a pamphlet my Dad left lying on our coffee table that said 'Discovery: A Seminar For Gay Married Men'.
And so began life with a gay dad, as a ten year old, in the teeny tiny town of Bombo.
The years that followed were indeed colourful.
Mum had been having an affair with our much younger handyman (which - as a grown woman I can now completely understand!). My parents separated, and life was suddenly filled with things like the annual Mardi Gras, and going to gay church.
25 years on, in 2022, all of these things feel really quite cool and postmodern. But at the time... in the mid 90s.. in my parochial - very Catholic - part of the world, it was definitely outside 'the norm'.
I didn't tell a soul about dad's sexuality. I didn't want anyone to know, lest they tease him or give our family.
I continued to study hard, put on a brave face, and graduated as dux of my high-school with the plum result of 99.40
The next decade felt like one gigantic clusterfuck. In truth, there were some wonderful highs. But it was sure peppered with devastating lows. Here's the dot point version...
⚡️I didn't get into the Performing degree that I'd set my sights on, and instead moved to Sydney and worked in pubs and clubs. It was a far cry from the School Dux days.
⚡️I was brutally sexually assaulted by a group of men who I worked with. I didn't tell a soul for about 5 years. This event single-handedly led me down a dangerous path of drugs, alcohol and complete self-destruction.
⚡️I spent a few months working as a stripper to pay for the drama school that I (eventually) got into.
⚡️I wrote of 5 (FIVE!) cars, because I was so epically irresponsible
⚡️ I accrued over 15K of parking fines.
⚡️ I had my heart broken.
⚡️ I drank too much.
⚡️ I completely obliterated my self-respect, self-love, and self-compassion. My anxiety was debilitating and my sense of self was so thin on the ground.
Then all of sudden, it all changed.
I was in my final years of drama school (the VCA in Melbourne), and we spent a term creating our own cabaret show. For the first time since...well, quite possibly those early Julie Andrews lounge-room shows, I felt like I'd found my calling. My soul gave me a nudge to say 'this is it. You're home'.
Simply by sharing about my Dad, and my colourful family, and my wayward stripping past, I was able to reconnect. With myself, with my stories, and most importantly, with other people. I felt like my entire life had come full circle and every single moment that had brought me to sharing and creating in this way - even the assault - was undeniably worth it.
And it was just the beginning.
After graduating from VCA, I bit the bullet and wrote my own first full length show - A Storm In A D Cup.
It was the most important thing I ever did.
I traveled the world. I spent two months volunteering at a refugee school in Thailand. I lived out of my car for two years. I drank way too many margaritas, kissed lots of boys, and a few girls.
In 2012, I co-won the International Cabaret Contest, which saw me land a spot in The New York Musical Theatre Festival. My dreams of performing on Broadway came true. I realised that when mindset, manifesting, and unrelenting momentum combine, a person can really be unstoppable.
Whilst in NYC, I met my (now) husband Zac. His Dad is gay too. Kinda feels like fate. I've been living in Adelaide SA for 8 years now. Zac and I are happily married, we have a beautiful boy Archie. He is my world. We're working on gifting him a little sibling.
My days are full. I still create shows, and tour the country performing them. Equally as importantly I help fellows creatives, coaches and consultants tell their stories, and bring their visions and voice to life.
I've used my stories - the good, bad, hilarious and heartbreaking ones - as the fuel for my fire. In doing so, I've become the narrator, interpreter and editor of my story.
My wish is that you do the same.
an occasional glass of French
an overseas adventure
Shine Online with
My Favorite Things
The workshop floor. I love connecting with fellow creative minds, and watching ideas come to life in a really safe space.
My home town! It's my happy place. Walking with the sand between my toes are where all of my best creative downloads happen.
My boys. While I've played many roles, none bring me more joy than Mummy and Wife.
Where I stand on the super important stuff... Agree / disagree?
A Flap: (according to The Dictionary of Amelia)
1. being in a tizz, stressy, a hot mess
3. the art of not having one’s sh!t together
4. prone to colossal clusterfuckery
If this is you (and honestly, these days...who doesn't get a bit flappy), I'm creating a free audio book to help you ditch the flap, dial up the flow and get your sh!t together with more perspective, purpose and PLAY.
Do you have a story that needs sharing? I work with coaches, creatives and consultants to help them share their stories with the world.
The best way to chat about it is to schedule a.... clarity call (go figure!).
Oh hey Friend!