Journal - 7th February

I haven’t written for a while, and I can feel that gap. Writing lets pressure leak out slowly before it hardens into something sharper, so tonight feels like the right time to pick it back up.

Clare and I went to Bali last week, and it was exactly what we needed...not as an escape from our life, but as a reminder of it. A reminder that underneath the routines, the responsibilities, and the constant background noise, we still genuinely enjoy each other’s company. That we’re still individuals. That we still laugh easily together. That we still talk, make love, eat well, sleep in, and simply be without being pulled away every few minutes.

Fourteen years after we met, that feels worth noticing.

There were no interruptions. No kids calling out. No chores waiting patiently in the wings. No sense of being needed somewhere else. Just space. And in that space, something very simple became obvious again....we’re still best friends. That truth doesn’t disappear at home, but it does get buried. Not by anything dramatic, just by the weight of ordinary life.

Coming home made that contrast obvious almost immediately.

Life picked up speed the moment we landed. Jiu-jitsu runs for the kids. Concrete jobs. Housework. The endless logistics of running a household. Making time to support Mum and Dad where we can. And all of it happening while living in a shed through a Western Australian summer....which sounds vaguely adventurous until you’re actually doing it, night after night, with the heat sitting with you in everything you do.

It’s 8:45pm. The kids are in bed, but they’re still talking and laughing and pushing the edges of sleep. Lachlan is deep in that moody pre-teen phase....not terrible, just intense and occasionally exhausting. It’s still about 27 degrees inside the shed, and tomorrow morning I’ll be up early to lay concrete out the front so we can stop tracking sand everywhere and finally have a place to sit outside. Small projects. Big impact. That seems to be the theme of this season.

Earlier this evening, Clare showed me a post from one of her friends who’s just jetted off to Sri Lanka on a surf trip. Boards underarm. Warm water. That familiar mix of travel, salt, and freedom written all over her face. Seeing it hit something old in me.

There was a time when that was my life. Surfing around the world. Surf trips as both escape and social glue. Waves as therapy, currency, and community. These days, I parent and work. I plan logistics. I negotiate bedtimes. I barely find time to scratch myself, let alone disappear on a surf mission.

She’s earned that trip....genuinely. Good on her. And if I’m honest, there’s a flicker of jealousy there too. Not the bitter kind. More the nostalgic kind. I still carry all those memories. They’re just stored now rather than lived daily.

But perspective matters.

I only just went to Bali last week. In November, I rode mountain bikes through Tasmania with my mates. My life isn’t small or deprived....it’s just full. Dense. Layered. And tonight, it’s hot.

I caught myself smiling at the thought that spilling all of this here lightens my load without burdening anyone else. Words absorb weight. They don’t judge, interrupt, or ask you to be better....they just hold what you give them. Life’s strange like that.

Our emotions make us inconsistent, variable, sometimes inconvenient. They complicate otherwise straightforward days. But they’re also what make life rich. Imagine if we were all just ones and zeros....perfectly logical, perfectly efficient, always functioning as designed. Things would run smoothly, sure. But where would the wonder be? The excitement of discovery? The satisfaction of starting or finishing something hard? The fear before a challenge? The pride that comes from pushing through it anyway?

Even frustration has its place. It tells us we care. Even exhaustion has meaning....it usually follows effort. I wouldn’t trade feeling for pure function, even on nights when feeling is uncomfortable. Even when it’s messy. Especially then.

Today’s been a good day. It’s also been a demanding one. The kind where you’re holding your internal weather steady while still trying to be a good father, a loving husband, and a fair parent. No medals. No audience. Just quiet persistence.

And that’s the thing worth remembering.....sometimes life is a bit shit. Hot. Noisy. Demanding. Slightly ridiculous. And if we don’t stop occasionally to recognise that, and maybe even laugh at it, we miss something important.

Not every day needs to be optimised.
Not every moment needs to be meaningful.

Some days are just about noticing you’re still in it, still trying, still capable of smiling at the absurdity of it all.

Cape’s on.
It’s just a bit sweaty tonight.