Photo by Sabine Bannard, Tugan Beach, Australia

If I can get to the end of my married life and still desire to just sit and be with him as the tide rolls in, then I would consider that a true accomplishment. The journey is fraught with trials to overcome; waves of worry, hardship, disappointment and grief threaten to overwhelm, but if you can somehow move together as one, and have your sights set on the same horizon, the view is surely sweeter when taken in with a true companion.

This is a longer version of an original piece published in issue 34 of White magazine.

Photo by Amelia Soegijono - Pictures and Hearts Photography

It’s risky business, this writing about the “self” because it is always in a state of flux. Many a time an author has penned a book, having arrived at some conclusion about life, only to have found that what they thought their life to be would soon take a turn: a divorce, for example, or, in Elizabeth Gilbert’s case, a divorce, change in gender preference, and a new girlfriend.

All this is only to say that when considering yourself, you have to be a bit wary, cautious, perhaps even coy, at the very least discerning, because, oh boy!, can the self do a turn when least expected. It is wise to consider what can be made public and what should remain private. In this age of the over-share and rampant media speculation, I wonder that perhaps there will be a swing back to discretion?

Lore Ferguson Wilbert recently wrote in an online piece of “the personal narrative that readers, writers, and publishers worship at”. But at what cost? “All together, we’ve grown fat on a feast of viral blogs, short-lived bestsellers, and pithy articles,” she wrote. Sometimes we need to go “offline” in order to get the deeper self-work done; and it’s simply not for public consumption.



After making self-disclosure, opinion and blogging my game for a number of years, I was truly ready to hang up my boots and hand over to someone else. I’ve often thought of putting up a sign that reads, “IN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT”, to ward off anyone who dares ask, “What have you been up to? Are you still writing? Still blogging?”, because for the past few years my deepest need has been to create a home sanctuary, to support my husband, to support my father through prostate cancer treatment and to nurture my baby girls. This has left little ground for gratifying self-contemplation, reflection or personal writing.

So where to begin when propositioned by White magazine with the question, “Who were you when you married your husband?” Truthfully, I don’t think I had a clue.  At 26, I had many pairs of nice shoes, a plum job in magazine publishing, exciting career prospects, European passport stamps and gorgeous girlfriends, but I was also incredibly restless. I had a lot of questions.

Subsequently, leading up to and after I walked down the aisle to Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” to marry my husband I filled approximately 25 journals with scribblings articulating inner wrestlings over everything from my body image (ah, the wasted years!), to my parents’ divorce, to God (where were you all those years ago?). And I’m not sure that those dealings should ever see the light of day (they remain locked away in a cupboard at home), as cool as it is to have the Amy Schumers of the world unleash their selves in tell-all book form and the Taylor Swifts translate their experiences into catchy song lyrics.

Once I was asked to write a book. The deal fell through – I couldn’t deliver the goods because I was numb to what I had to offer and didn’t want to churn out something predictable or, worse, that would suggest I had it all together because, “Hey, I wrote a book!”.  There’s a fine line between bravely sharing your story because you deeply believe it may help someone else, or to simply give others pleasure, and self-gratification or masochism under the guise of “Seize every opportunity!”. Self-expression is a necessary thing, for we were created to create, but surely not for the sake of simply expressing every single thought and feeling?

The world can be very cruel, taking what we create and stamping on it , as the blogger Natalie Holbrook found out after publishing her own delightful tome to the scorn of GOMI (Get Off My Internets) readers. “It legitimately put me on anti-depressants,” she told The Guardian. “I had this disgusting weight in my stomach, because I knew it would be torn to shreds, not because it wasn’t good, but because I knew it wasn’t going to be what they wanted it to be.”

Now, Brene Brown would discourage us all from turning away from being vulnerable, or hiding our “authentic selves”, because vulnerability is what makes us human and it’s not weakness but strength. And so is learning. And the “journey” of life. You’ve got to be in the trenches with everyone sometimes, not simply protecting your veggie patch from insect invasion. It takes courage to show up and be counted. To be seen and validated and embraced by one’s fellow humans. To be included is an essential part of the human experience.

But I do think we have to be a little bit choosey about who we invite into that vulnerability; and our spouse and closest friends should be the primary receptors, not the online world. “Daring greatly” (even somewhat reluctantly) sounds like a noble endeavor, but if you know yourself well enough, and love that self, then you also want to add a layer of protection. You do not have to share, like or tag everything. And if you are feeling especially vulnerable in any situation, you have to count the cost: is it really worth it?

“Since the false self is fabricated on secondary things we idolize, like reputation, success, status, family and jobs, it is always vulnerable,” writes Adele Ahlberg in The Spiritual Disciplines Handbook. “Things that can be here today and gone tomorrow provide a precarious mooring for the soul. Our truest identity can never be something we accomplish, earn or prove on our own.”

I’ve often thought of writing a piece like this as handing an editor a little bit of your soul and saying, “Here, please be careful”, and then entrusting it and letting go. It’s in the “letting go” that we become vulnerable. We cannot predict how others will receive us or how our thoughts will be misconstrued or appreciated. But letting go of our selves is what marriage is all about. It’s what you sign up for when you say “I do”.

This doesn’t mean losing yourself in the sense that your new name (if you so choose) becomes you and you are now Mr or Mrs and not yourself anymore. But it does mean knowing your motives, your heart’s desires and likes and dislikes, and being prepared to let them fall away if it’s necessary to sustain the marriage (notably, this should be done willingly and joyfully, and not with overtones of doubt or regret), such as acknowledging that your online shopping habit may impinge on your financial security, or that your jealousy issues or lack of personal hygiene could be a bit socially isolating.

Discovery of each other is such a privilege and wonder – we get to see the nooks and crannies of each other’s feelings, emotions, thoughts and actions, and to explore them with an intimacy that no one else will enjoy. With this obviously comes an enormous responsibility to protect and not project what is told or seen in private while you are both “in character development”. This should be a mutal agreement with humble acknowledgement of your often fallible, awkward humanness and the deep desire to see one another flourishing.

Complementarianism, which is the marital creed I subscribe to, requires a definite sense of self in order to be accomplished within a marriage. You cannot be complementary if you have no idea what it is that you bring to the table, and nor can your partner. You both have to have an awareness of the strengths, weaknesses, skills, habits, personality quirks and relationships you bring to the marriage, and then to negotiate how they can best work together to achieve things you simply could not do alone. YOU ARE PERFECTED IN YOUR UNITY AND YOUR INDIVIDUALITY.

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image,” wrote Thomas Merton in No Man Is an Island.  “If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them.”

Would Hugh Jackman be the super guy he is without Deborrah Lee? Christ Hemsworth without Elsa Pataky? Hamish without Zoe? George without Amal? And conversely? (I once attended an awards ceremony in which the female recipient failed to acknowledge the unfailing support of her husband…if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have been chastened for his oversight).

When The Sydney Morning Herald ran an article titled “Hamish Blake’s wife tells of life behind The Wrong Girl scenes”, commentator Mia Freedman replied, “Zoe [Foster-Blake] is an accomplished, self-made woman in her own right, and has been since long before she married anyone. She’s proud of her husband, proud of her son, loves being a wife and loves being a mother. But first and foremost she is a person not an appendage.”

(Cue feminist applause.)

For every He who something there is a She doing similarly. They are inextricably connected through the bond of marriage, but all the stronger for their mutual support, affections, encouragements, sharing of talents and knowledge, and childcare.

How wonderful to think that you will know this person better than anyone else on earth; and that they will know you in this way, too, and help you to become the best version of you?! In fact, through their unique point of view, your spouse may get to know you better than you do.

I am always startled by my husband’s ability to nail my flaws and show them up for what they are before they have a chance to settle into habits that leave scars. It is often incredibly uncomfortable, and I may sulk occasionally, but he, in turn, is constantly humbled by my unique ability to downplay his obvious strengths (good looks, strong mind, resilience) while buffering his weaknesses.

One of my recurrent shortcomings as a human being is the inability to handle a certain level of stress – usually a deadline compounded by multiple other needs; primarily my child’s or my husband’s, which throws me into a state of conflict that I cant conceal, least of all from those in close proximity. Herein the problem: my own desire to do good work and a good job in competition with the time constraints of motherhood and the necessary sacrifices entailed by wanting to be a supportive wife and a nurturing, attentive mother.

Ahlberg Calhourn writes, “Each of us has a beautiful true self inside of us. It is God’s gift to us. But many of us can hardly take this in. Somewhere life taught us that our true self wasn’t welcome or safe or wanted. Consequently, we learned to hide our true self. In its place we constructed a false self. This self has a defensive, non-resilient, mistrustful, reactive core. This reactive core is at the centre of our disordered relationships. It sabotages our ability to trust…others.”

For some, this means scrambling toward outside things – Facebook, Instagram, the shops, jobs, the gym! - looking for some understanding or validation of who we are and the life we are living when really it’s the core of you, your very “youness” that is the thing you could be most afraid of and are trying to conceal or run from.

When you envision “your narrative”, you don’t particularly entertain the pitiful moments, the self-defeating attitudes, the sorrow you cause others or the characteristics you deplore in yourself (and others). You think of the ‘ideal you’, the one in the best light winning at life, high-fiving your goals and being feted by family and friends who are proud as punch to call you their own.

You are not someone defeated by their demons sleeping rough on the street; not that poor, feckless soul all wrinkled and old whose pension is poured into the pokies; not the ‘unrealised genius’ who was never able to overcome self-doubt and realize his potential. In your daydreams you see victory. And because you rather fancy yourself, you think this is how it should be.

But then you stumble across someone who is succeeding at life on every possible front and the word ‘FAILURE’ enters your periphery. So you slink back into yourself, like a snail retreating into its shell, and sluggishly carry on with the life you’ve been dealt, never daring again to imagine this self who you put up on a pedestal – less a victory march, more a walk of humble acceptance with occasional glimpses through the window into a starry sky full of promise. Perhaps some day you will reach perfection?

What is our response? There are no tidy conclusions, no linear storylines in life. It is complex and often defeating.  But the best thing we can hold onto is this idea of who we are and why we are here – our “purpose”, if you will – and ride the rough terrain with our partner navigating. But first you need a compass: your value system. Do you place a priority on people or productivity? On achievement or humbly serving others? On exciting experiences or simple pleasures? In what ways can you complement or encourage each other’s mental, spiritual, intellectual, physical or creative development?

To reconcile your weaknesses and your strengths, to take an objective view of yourself as best you can, to reconcile the ideas manufactured by the world that don’t suit you…with these come freedom. A life lived in harmony with one’s fellow human beings (starting with your spouse) starts here; in the knowledge and unconditional love of self but the willingness to override selfish desires for the greater good. It is equally applicable at home as it is in the community or workplace or the realms of politics, economics and humanitarianism; in fact, that sort of human generosity starts at home.

As Aristotle once said, “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” So do the work, for the sake of yourself and your marriage - ditch the stuff that doesn’t suit, file away the precious if you can’t bear to part with it, but keep the good stuff – the things that make you feel wonderful and so very “you” at the forefront. Plough deep into your past and make friends with your mistakes and forgive the wrongs done against you, too. And, importantly, don’t for a second think that you are not worthy of your unique personality, hopes and dreams.

But don’t be so caught up on “self discovery” that you forget about everyone else, least of all your spouse. Because we truly become ourselves in relation to others; and, in fact, you will become the best version of yourself because your partner is doing the self-work with you.

Some simple take-home ideas to cut n paste…

- Take care of yourself;
- Speak up honestly about your needs;
- Acknowledge and admit your weaknesses and mistakes;
- Don’t let your vulnerabilities become your creed;    
- And seek out ways to meet others’ needs; to bless the world with all you’ve been given (singly and as a couple); and be the best you that you can be.

Anyone who has ever wrestled with wanting to do the right thing, ethically speaking, at the shops, but who has then been confronted with the very limited options that "doing the right thing" apparently entails, will be enamoured to find a friend in Clare Press and her second book, Wardrobe Crisis: How we went from Sunday best to fast fashion (Nero, $29.99).

A former features editor for Vogue Australia, one-time 'Chictionary' columnist and current fashion editor-at-large for Marie Claire Australia, Press is well versed in fashion speak, but also has the wonderful ability to convey her ideas with lucidity, humility and disarming candour. This is less a treatise, more an investigation to which we are all invited to take part.



Press admits to owning leather goods, designer handbags, "a surfeit of clothes", a drawer just for belts, and all manner of sartorial items that may seem at odds with living with a clear conscience, and we must thank her for doing so, for who of us can admit to having a wardrobe that is 100 per cent ethical?To buying one more item than is necessary because of minor differences in detail (it's grey marle tees for me) or owning several pairs of "favourite" jeans? To secretly coveting a luxury item that equals a month's rent? To shopping without thinking as if in a daze of endorphins that cloud your better judgement?

Indeed, one is left wondering: how can we possibly live a life completely free of animal and human cruelty in this post-consumer society in which everything is so freely available, and tantalisingly so?

"There's a sophisticated marketing machine behind the fast fashion boom," writes Press, "we didn't just wake up one morning in the '90s and think 'I wish four times as many clothes would be produced and sold."

But that is the sad reality into which Press delves, confessing to playing her own part in the designer collaboration hype and "democratisation of fashion" (which led to the fast fashion phenomenon) that sees impossible amounts of clothing disappear off shelves, as with the grotesquely display of human consumption and greed that is the Boxing Day sales.

And she calls us out for the dunces we all are: it's consumer gullibility that has seen us buy into "Cornflake chic" (courtesy of Anya Hindmarch), "logo mania" and the It-bags and silk scarves of Sex and the City, and certainly not need, though the media, marketing and fashion industries have a canny way of making things seem altogether necessary.

"When this happens, fashion becomes unmoored from reality: its beauty is diluted because it has no soul. It's just a quick fix of instant gratification - empty calories," says Press.

"We buy clothes on a whim, because they are so accessible and seemingly so affordable (though the true cost of the garment is rarely expressed by its retail price...). Sometimes we buy clothes with the express intention of wearing them just once or twice; we buy clothes to throw away."

Press paints the bleak picture: Australian national credit card debt of $51 billion in 2015; $500 million of clothing sent to the tip each year; the average woman wears just 40 per cent of her clothes; 92 per cent of clothing sold in Australia manufactured overseas; and 1,133 people killed and 800 children orphaned at Rana Plaza in Bangladesh.

This volume has considerable research behind it and is peppered with Press' highly palatable anecdotes, which make it altogether an interesting and endearing read. She comes by her penchant for clothing honestly: her grandmother, she says, was too busy shopping and having her nails done to cook dinner.

"She was what used to be known as 'clothesy' (a word used most effectively while raising one eyebrow). She grew up in a flat above a lolly shop with her mother and a cranky old aunt."

From the front row of Fendi's Spring 2015 show to a clandestine Fashion Revolution Day talk in a pub and uncovering the covert operations of fur production, Press peeps under every gilded rock in the fashion industry to see what she can find.

Press has done her homework and then some. Into the manufacturing maelstrom she goes, asking us to think about how and why and where we buy our clothes. "How is it possible that we can buy a brand new garment, even one bedazzled by hand with sequins, for less than the cost of a cooked breakfast?"

No one brand, from Hermes to H&M, Gap to Galliano, is unmentioned, while sustainability and slow fashion superheroes Livia Firth, Lucy Siegle, Liane Rossley and Stella McCartney rank highly in the new era of conscious consumption that now follows the conspicuous (for fashion is nothing if not extreme in its pursuit of polar opposites).

Some of the best insights come courtesy of interviews with those embedded in the fashion industry itself, such as Simone Cipriana, founder of the Ethical Clothing Initiative, who hints at "the notion that steady, fair work could change communities for the better".

Press is not a party pooper: she adores clothes and the fashion industry and through her enthusiasm encourages us to engage with it differently.

It did hit me as ironic that as soon as I heard of the launch of Press' book, I hot-footed it to a book store, toddler in tow, to purchase my copy of Wardrobe Crisis, like a crazed fashionista hearing the words "collection by Alexa Chung" (or Gigi, as Tommy Hilfiger would have it).

For those trying to abide in a more conscious approach to shopping, there will always be the occasional hiccup on the road to sartorial Utopia where everything is fair and fairly made. Buying less, choosing wisely and eschewing the rest is not an easy task when navigating the precariously frivolous rag trade.

"Shopping ethically" is often seen as the expensive, unattainable, pretentious habit of the educated and wealthy minority who also eat all organic foods. The key to fast fashion's success: accessibility. Press' writing is splendid but I wonder how relevant to 15-year-old girls who will lead the charge with their credit cards in years to come?

Mrs Satchel.: On passion (for WHITE magazine)

“All thoughts, all passions, all delights,

White issue 32. Cover by Lara Hotz.

Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of love,
And feed his sacred flame.”
“Love”, Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In the Greek language, there are four words to describe love: “eros” (sensual, passionate, erotic love), “philos” (affectionate, virtuous love for friends, family and community; loyalty), “storge” (natural affection and empathy and acceptance, as with parents and children) and “agape” (selfless, unconditional giving; to want what’s best for the other). In a marriage, it’s “agape” love that we’re shooting for (aim at the stars and you may land on the moon).

Passion, in a sensual sense, is a strange bedfellow in a marriage; a perplexing paradox requiring some serious contemplation. On the one hand, you absolutely need it to have a healthy marriage. Your sex life is like a garden that needs constant maintenance to preserve intimacy and protect the marriage from any outside pests in the form of another person.

But, at the same time, this whole matter of passion also puts a lot of pressure on marriages to be spectacularly on fire – hot, hot, hot! – all the time, which they cannot possibly be, because as humans we are prone to just want to mooch around the house in our comfy Bonds clothes, not get all Victoria’s Secret sexy about things (and, gentlemen, at certain times of the month, it’s wise to grant your lady a reprieve and opt for a cuppa and cuddle instead).

According to the eminent psychologist Elaine C. Hatfield, who with her research partner Ellen S. Berscheid has studied passion for more than 50 years, people in passionate love show activation in brain areas associated with motivation, euphoria and reward, which is similar to the pattern of activation seen in another all-consuming condition: drug addiction.

In those heady days of a new relationship, when your every waking thought turns to the object of your heart’s affections, you’re as close to getting a glimpse into the life of a drug addict as you’ll ever be. Preoccupied, irrational, paranoid and full of despair when things don’t quite go right (or you can’t get your “fix”), common sense is thrown to the wind in pursuit of passion.

Exhilarating and exhausting, isn’t it, those all-consuming early days of a blossoming relationship where you are driven more by desire than common sense, so eloquently phrased by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge? My husband and I often joke that we simply do not have the energy to go through all of that again (great insurance against divorce!).

During the 18 months we dated long-distance, bursting with youth and hormones, my husband would drive 12 hours to Sydney during the night after work to spend the weekend with me, and return bleary-eyed to work the next week. Each and every interstate meet-up was full of intense, exuberant anticipation, only to be followed by the gut-wrenching, back-to-reality check as we said goodbye for another month or so.

I would fall asleep with my clunky Nokia phone in my hand, drooling over the pillow, as we filled the intermissions with long phone conversations and endless text messages covering all manner of topics and variations on “I love you” (this was pre-emoticon, SnapChat and Skype!).

Attraction, and subsequently passion, might fuel the early stage of your burgeoning relationship, which serves as the Clag glue between you, but they alone will not sustain it. As with our work lives, passion will only carry us so far in our relationships: that's where commitment, conviction and dogged hard work come in to pick up the slack.

Yet we of the Gen's X and Y and Z, are set up to believe though our Disney-fied cultural conditioning (thanks, Ariel, Cinderella, et al) that passion is where it's at. But, as CS Lewis once wrote, "Mortal lovers must not try to remain at the first step; for lasting passion is the dream of a harlot and from it we wake in despair." To make passion your foremost marital mission and expectation is to set yourselves up for an almighty fall (see also: Romeo and Juliet).

The philosopher Alain de Botton, author most recently of The Course of Love, says, "In a secret corner of our mind, we picture a lover who will anticipate our needs, read our hearts, act selflessly and make everything better. It sounds ‘romantic’; yet it is a blueprint for disaster.” Just ask any exhausted couple who's tag-teamed nappy changes, cuddles and feeds into the wee hours of the morning.

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