There’s something really powerful in recognising when you need to change direction. It feels very similar to the night she left — when I walked into the Best Room, my colourful Wonderland sanctuary. A place of solace. A place of calm. I looked to the left — the antique sideboard, covered in spirits and wines and exotic liquors from different corners of the world. Then I looked to the right — where the 130-year-old piano, kindly gifted by a friend, stood silently proud, willing its kinship in that moment. Realistically, though, anything more ambitious than a scale with these currently unpractised fingers would’ve ended in an orthopaedic catastrophe. Disco Granny attempting the Macarena after 15 sherries. I looked back to the left, thinking, this would make this shit disappear for a bit… But I realised I’m past needing things to disappear now. I have to feel every atom of this if I’m going to heal. You need to be sober to feel. Rational brain kicks in: Do you really want beer...
So, I’ve been sitting with my thoughts a lot lately—questioning my views, my values, and the core philosophy I carried through that entire relationship, and what it all really meant. I was asked recently, at what point do you feel like it’s time to take the ring off? And that question has sat heavy, thoughts whirling, refusing to settle. So I started asking myself, what will it actually take for me to take off this ring? Because it’s really about what this ring actually means to me. And the ring… well, the story starts way before the ring. It starts with a conversation where I was looking at her mum and saying, "I know that one day I’m going to marry your daughter". And at that point, really, to be fair—hands on hips, staring me down—I should have realised that I was stepping into uncharted territory, sailing the black seas rather than riding the wave. I was never going to 'win'. I reflect on a moment when we both said that if we ever split u...