Sober Sister

27/01/2026

Recovery and Sobriety! 🌟🌟

27/01/2026

27/01/2026

Why My Story Matters

(And why I’m telling it, even when it still stings a little.)

I’m not here to preach or pretend I’ve got it all figured out.
I’m here because I’ve lived through the kind of pain that makes you want to disappear — and I didn’t.

I’ve survived:
• Liver failure
• Alcohol addiction
• Domestic violence
• Homelessness
• Chronic illness
• Mental health diagnoses
• Disability from a spinal injury
• A world that told me to stay quiet and be grateful I was still breathing

And yet — here I am.
Still sober. Still standing. Still slightly unhinged.

I tell my story because no one told me it was okay to be a mess.
No one told me that rock bottom didn’t mean it was over — just that I’d finally stopped digging.
No one told me that it was ok to not be ok.
No one told me that humour could be a lifeline, or that healing doesn’t have to look graceful.
So I’m telling it now.

To show you that surviving doesn’t have to be silent.
That you can still be angry and funny and broken and brilliant and worthy of everything good.

You don’t need to be perfect to be powerful. You just need to keep going.

And if you’re still here — you’re doing it right.

27/01/2026

💥 The Comeback Story 💥

I wasn’t supposed to make it.

At 27, I was told I was in liver failure. I’d spent years drinking myself into oblivion — blacking out, breaking down, and waking up with hangovers that felt more like near-death experiences. My body was shutting down. My relationships were gone. I’d racked up debt, gone bankrupt, wrecked my career, lost my licence, and ruined my reputation. I was couch-surfing, drinking from morning to night, and convinced I’d permanently deep-fried every brain cell I ever owned. At one point, a nurse looked at me and said, “You don’t deserve my care.” And I believed her.

But that wasn’t the end. It was the turning point.

I got sober. And then I got serious. I went back to university and graduated with a GPA of 6.27. I was inducted into the International Golden Key Honour Society for being in the top 15% academically out of 415 universities. I got my licence back. I bought a car with cash. I got my dream job as a nurse. And then, just when life started to make sense again, I fell down a flight of stairs, herniated my spine, and woke up from my first spinal surgery partially paralyzed. So I did what I always do: I healed, rebuilt, and came back swinging — this time on crutches.

And through it all — addiction, trauma, disability, domestic violence, chronic illness, and mental health struggles — I never picked up another drink.

Instead, I picked up a pen. I shared my story publicly. My page Sober Sister grew to over 60,000 followers. My inbox flooded with messages from people saying, “I thought I was alone — until I read your words.” I was named one of three prominent Australians who overcame addiction and now help others. I became a voice for those of us who were told we were too much, too broken, too late.

Spoiler: we weren’t.

My story isn’t shiny. It’s not wrapped in ribbons and redemption arcs. It’s messy, funny, painful, and painfully real. But it proves one thing: you can fall apart completely — and still come back with fire in your chest and glitter in your scars.

27/01/2026

For the past 12 years, I’ve been fighting a battle that most people never see.

On the outside, people see me showing up, smiling, building a life, supporting others through Sober Sister, starting a business and creating my own merchandise range, writing a book, being a nurse, studying, and being “strong.”

But on the inside, my body has been in a constant state of war.

I live with chronic severe refractory (refractory meaning they don't respond to treatment) migraines, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, gastroparesis, and CPTSD. I also suffered a serious back injury last year which required multiple back surgeries, 6 weeks in hospital, and having to learn how to walk properly again. And I now live with severe chronic back pain, nerve pain down my left leg, and loss of some function in that leg.

For 12 years, I have not known what it feels like to be pain-free.
I live with a headache 24/7.
I live with chronic, relentless nausea.
I live with extreme, crushing fatigue that sleep does not fix.
I live with severe muscle and joint pain, nerve pain, and days where even basic tasks take everything I have.

There are days where I feel like my body is betraying me.
Days where it feels like it’s just one thing after another.
Days where I quietly ask myself, what did I do to deserve this?
And yes — there are moments where I feel like giving up.

But I don’t.
I never do.

I keep going. I keep showing up. I keep pushing forward, even when my body is screaming at me to stop. I fight for answers. I fight for treatment. I fight for some kind of quality of life. I fight because I still believe my story isn’t over yet.

What people often don’t see is how much strength it takes just to survive in a body like this. How much resilience it takes to keep choosing life, hope, humour, and purpose when your nervous system and pain levels are in constant overdrive.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy.
I’m sharing it for awareness and understanding of invisible illnesses like mine.
For the reminder that invisible illness is still real illness.
That chronic pain is exhausting in ways words can’t fully capture.
And to show others struggling that it's possible to keep fighting even when the world seems to want to beat you down.

If I’ve been quieter lately, slower to reply, or less visible — this is why. I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I’m still standing. Just sometimes doing it in survival mode.

I may be tired. I may be hurting.
But I am not defeated.

I have survived addiction. I have survived liver failure. I have survived serious trauma. I have survived domestic violence. And I will keep surviving this too. One day, one appointment, one flare, one deep breath at a time.

If you’re walking your own invisible battle — I see you. You are not weak. You are incredibly, quietly strong, and you've got this. My inbox is always open.

The most incredible thing is that I've stayed sober throughout all of this!