When Are You?

Coming back to the moment(s) after grief. That is, the grief we must inevitably walk through in our recovery from sibling sexual trauma and abuse (SSTA).

So it’s been a little longer than I expected between blog posts. I just saw the Intentional Pause was pressed back in March…

I had imagined the next entry would be sharing finished pieces of artwork — but they’re still sitting quietly in my peripheral vision, to the right of my desk, not forgotten, they did progress, however they are unfinished. I’m chipping away, not rushing.

The months between my last post and now have been full of experiences I never envisioned. I’ve continued actively co-creating monthly Conversation Café experiences through Blue Borage — and allowed myself space for reflection, observation, and healing between each one.

I’ve also spent over a month away from home, attending both national and international conferences as an advocate and author. Advocacy has also led me to presenting at webinars, and participating in communities of practice as someone with lived experience, through the Daniel Morcombe Foundation’s Bright Futures.

Resolve was featured in a poster presentation at the Australian Childhood Foundation’s International Childhood Trauma Conference in Melbourne — and will soon feature in a collaborative presentation at the Thriving Survivors Conference in Glasgow this November.

The Quiet Ripple of a Book

Back home now, I had a moment to check my book sales dashboard and noticed a few beautiful new reviews from the USA and Canada that I hadn’t seen before. It’s been two years since Resolve was released, and still, it’s finding new readers every week.

At the conferences, I sold a good number of copies directly — often signing: “from Alice, with love.” I usually suggested not writing the recipient’s name. My hope is that the book doesn’t gather dust on one person’s shelf — it can travel. We all know someone affected by SSTA.

Grief in the Auditorium

One of the most meaningful moments during the Melbourne conference happened in the quietest way.

I was sitting in a large seminar room, surrounded by professionals, listening to David Kessler speak about grief. And for once, I wasn’t sitting there as “advocate” or “facilitator.” I was just me. A woman with a history. A survivor.

He began speaking, and within minutes, my chest tightened — that familiar rising of long hidden tears, the kind I spoke about in Resolve. The kind that come when something is said that finally gives shape to what you’ve been carrying.

The Words David Shared

David said:

“We need to be better at emotional intelligence than the generation before us.”

It sounds obvious. But something about it landed differently that day.

As survivors, many of us carry grief that’s never been named. It isn’t tidy. It isn’t always visible. And it certainly wasn’t modelled for us, especially if our families couldn’t hold space for pain.

As the conference was mostly addressing an audience of professionals he was talking about how we speak to people in grief or trauma recovery. That instead of the usual “How are you?” — a question that often lands awkwardly — we could allow them to feel more seen, by asking:

– “How are you today?”

– “How are you this afternoon?”

– And more curiously: “When are you?”

That last one struck me and I repeated it later that evening to my husband and daughter, we could all see how it would feel to be asked that. All of us want to become better at being there for people we love.

Because sometimes we’re not in the now. We’re in the past. We’re in the trauma.

And sometimes, in moments of intimacy or safety, we do return to now — if only briefly.

When Are You?

During one of the recent Conversation Cafés, as we reached the Q&A section with parents, I noticed myself drifting. I was both present and not. Parts of me were returning to conversations I’d had with my mother — especially the ones where she would quietly close down our exchanges with, “But you have to understand, he’s my son.” This time I was trying hard to stay there to see what was going on for me beneath the surface in those moments, to see if I could articulate it in a way that was helpful. I didn’t need to express it then, but it was where I went off to for a few moments.

That’s where asking “when” becomes an act of compassion. I did ask myself that whilst listening to the conversation and brought myself back to the room.

So even if it sounds like an odd question to ask, consider it as a way to invite people like us — gently — to come back.

To pause.

To breathe.

To return to the moment.

To safety.

Grief Isn’t Just One Loss

David reminded us that we bring ourselves to grief. All of us. Our history.

It’s never just one loss — it’s the river of all we’ve lost along the way.

And so yes — we do need to be better at emotional intelligence than the generation before us.

We need to feel the moment, rather than re-feel the past.

We need to name our grief. Honour it.

And grieve with more compassion than we were taught.

This moment — sitting in that audience, heart open — was one of the highlights of the entire week.

I’m still carrying it with me.

And it feels like the right place to begin again.

Welcome back to the blog.

More to come, softly, slowly, steadily, moving forward.

With love,

Alice