Why people don't talk about depression

The problem with telling the truth about your depression is the fallout afterwards.

Depressed people don’t tell the truth  because:

  • People with depression can’t get life insurance.

  • People with depression can lose their jobs either once the illness is discovered or when they have to take time off for the invisible illness that makes them bedridden for weeks on end.

  • They aren’t offered jobs or opportunities because they are deemed unreliable or unstable even if they haven’t shown any signs of either.

  • Friendships wane when you stop attending social events because people don’t understand when you say you can’t go because you’re anxious/stressed/depressed.

  • Relationships can fall apart when the vulnerability is exposed.

  • It’s near impossible to get a rental property if you reveal a mental illness.

  • It’s near impossible to get Centrelink benefits for depression. Same goes for Workcover or income protection.

  • Their opinions or solutions to a problem are dismissed because of their illness.

  • Their emotions are attributed to their illness and subsequently dismissed.

  • If they treat their illness with medication, it’s seen as ‘the easy way out’.

  • They are told they have no coping skills, despite the fact that many have faced extreme physical and psychological horrors and still manage to get up most days.

  • People tell men to ‘nut up’ and women to ‘stop being so emotional.’

  • People avoid them in social and professional situations.

  • People will gossip about them and their ‘craziness’.

  • People dismiss their revelation because ‘they don’t seem depressed.’

  • People make it about them and their experiences.

And yet the question is still being asked, why didn’t he/she tell anyone?

It’s pretty fucking simple.

Telling someone to tell the truth and then punishing them for their courage is a dog act.

Being punished for telling the truth is the act of a narcissist. I guess the world  is turning into one giant, narcissistic, reality star.

How to get a smaller, bigger life

The writer Elizabeth Gilbert said something about wanting to live a bigger smaller life, when downsizing her world.

I get that. It’s what I aspire to in my own day:

  • I work to live, but I don’t live to work. I like my work, and the people I work with but I can leave it behind mentally when I go home.

  • I only buy what I need, or what makes me happy. A new Delfonics pen makes me happier than anything else.

  • I say no to things more than I say yes. I say yes if I am required to for family or loved ones, but mostly I don’t go because…people. Mostly I am not good company. I don’t do small talk. I go straight to the wounds of the world and discuss them. I’m weird like that.

  • I know what my well needs to recharge me. Beauty, creativity, gardens, sunshine, music, dogs and the sea.

  • I write for pleasure when I write this blog. I write for pleasure when I write a book.

  • I read poetry. I share poems with people who I think might like them or that might resonate with them.

  • Wandering through shops with no intention to buy anything, just look and be okay with that.

  • No striving for more ‘things’, just more inspiration. More of what thrills me. more books, art, poems, gardens, love.

  • A smaller house. I don’t need the space. I don’t need the stress. I don’t need the cleaning!

  • Creating boundaries about what and who I engage with. I try to stay away from crazy. I used to love to solve people’s problems, because then I wouldn’t have to look at my own. Now I am happy to recommend them to a therapist. I love you but I can’t fix this, find someone who can help. I have tried to help alcoholics, drug addicts, abusers and more. I am not qualified and I ended up being hurt. DON’T DO IT.

  • Spend less. Barefoot Investor, My money, BudgetWise. Do something. Change it. It’s not too late.

  • Clean out the crap in your life. Less stuff, more self-awareness, means more time to be inspired and be free. I sold so much stuff when I moved house. Thousands of dollars of stuff. It was good. I recommend it.

  • Know when to walk away from the relationships. If he/she are narcissistic pricks, nothing will change. Nothing. Go now and enjoy what is left of your precious life.

  • Go where you’re wanted, and don’t stay if your not. Your presence is important. Don’t waste it on dickheads. leave the job. Tell your boss he’s a sleazy bully. Tell the client they’re irrational and fuckwits. Go. Life is short. There are other clients, and other jobs.

  • Cut off ties with dickheads. Just because they’re family or your “oldest friend” doesn’t mean you have to have a relationship with them if you aren’t happy. Naturally try and talk about it first and see if you can sort it out but if you can’t get out!

  • Stop being so self-obsessed on happiness. It’s actually impossible to be happy ALL the time. Contentment is the key. That moment when you’re having a cup of tea, and you take a moment to think, this is good. That’s the goal. I stopped trying to be happy ages ago. Now I’m happy more than I’m not.

  • Say no to buying things for the wrong reason. Nothing is worth financial peace of mind. You don’t need the boat, the car, the shoes etc, if it means another part of your life has to go without. I once sold a Cartier watch so my kid could go to a school term in the country in Year Nine. I didn’t need that watch. She needed to go to that school term. Choose wisely. I never think about that watch. I think about how much she gained from a term in the country often.

And that’s it. How to live a bigger, smaller life. Making room for the passion and the joy. Making room to be free and be smart. Making room to be inspired and inspiring.



KATEBOOK is here

Yes, finally my very own social media channel where I don't have to deal with bigots or racists, or self-serving idiots with no critical thinking skills or self-awareness.

In the light of the news that social media is apparently making us stupider and less tolerate, and that it is addictive as a hit of cocaine I have created my own channel in which to now b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶-̶w̶a̶s̶h̶...inspire you in your own life. 

The social media phenomena are fascinating. I think Facebook has reached its zenith and now it's just something that's there but not really used besides watching those videos shot from the ceiling from Tasty, of recipes we would never cook, because honestly, combining salsa, broad beans, and mashed potatoes feel like a punishment, not a meal.

Beyond bad food combinations, people can no longer trust the content on Facebook, not with Putin and his meddling troll farms and the lack of ability for people to fact check information before they head off on the outrage train to Backwatersville.

My goal is to enterspire (sounds weirdly sexual and I apologise) and also self-promote because I am a writer and dammit, the average wage of an author in Australia is $12,900. Yes, that's how little we make. Yes, I will take your offer of a casserole and yes, I do shop at Aldi. Because I like to buy a petrol generator with my parmesan cheese and trumpets.

I am not very good at self-promotion because you're a bit of a tool when you do it, right? Or maybe that's just me. Selling books is one of the hardest marketing gigs there is because people get bookstore amnesia and because there are so many books from which to choose from.

Why should they read my book? It's a personal choice and one that is often impossible to predict.

But enough about that, let's talk about content and channels.

I am sick of spreading my content across Facebook and Twitter and Medium and Reddit and Steemit and more. This is my new home. All content will be pushed off the cliff from here -  katebook.

I promise to make upside down cooking videos of bad recipes, stupid quizzes to help you find out what sort of a cupcake you are and upload photos of me photoshopped into exotic and fabulous foreign places so you can feel less than me, and wish you had my photoshop skills.

And finally, I promise to let you know about any new books I have coming out. (Two in 2018!) 

You're welcome. Stay amazing. Eat your greens (makes your poo soft) and don't care what other people think so much because to be honest, they're not thinking about you. They're thinking about themselves. I know I am.







Talk About A Bad Day At Work


I was reading that resilience comes from talking to people about your troubles. Sharing the moments that scare or confuse you. That the act of talking it through is in itself a decision to be resilient.

This year I experienced an extreme act of professional bullying. It wasn’t just aimed at me, it was aimed at everyone in the business, slowing ebbing away any semblance of independence and confidence. Micromanaging bullshit and game playing that eventually ended up in me leaving in a manner that meant I spent the evening on the phone to Lifeline, pondering my pain and self-worth. Should I stay or go?

In an act of desperation, I wrote about it on Facebook, asking a few close friends if I was what he said I was in our last meeting. A deeply personal accusation that bordered on cruelty.

I’m not usually that person who puts up the sad sack post on FB but I needed help. I was drowning. It played over and over in my head. I couldn’t stop crying. I was sick to my stomach. My children cried watching me cry. My husband was furious and helpless. I didn’t want anyone to feel that way because of what happened to me. So I asked. Am I what he said I was? I had been misunderstood and I was punished for it. I was punished for being myself. For the way I wrote, and the way I expressed my enthusiasm.

The love and support I got was amazing. The care and kindness. People called me to tell me I matter. People met me for coffee and talked about their own experience with this tyrant. I got job offers. I gained an amazing new client from it, and I felt so deeply loved, that I cry as I read this. I asked and I received.

I talked to my psychiatrist about it and she said that our support networks are our lifeline. Sometimes it’s okay to be vulnerable and say, ‘This happened and I’m in a bad place.’ Because those people will remind you that they got through similar and worse, they will have advice, and the act of talking it through helps your brain make sense of it, and you can begin to practise options for recovery and coping.

I am not someone who shies away from emotion. I am okay with the ugly cry. I am okay with the rawness in life. I can talk about death and suicide, and mental illness and grief. The dark waters don’t scare me anymore. But being frightened by someone else does. I was frightened. I was traumatised. I was in shock.

I asked my doctor when other people would find out what sort of a person they are, and she said, when they open their eyes enough to see the bigger picture. Emotional intelligence isn’t something everyone has. Sometimes they avoid the behaviours because they are getting something out of it. The greater good doesn’t always play out in the world.

We live in a society where excuses are made when people’s bad behaviour is overlooked because they might give us something. Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, Michael Jackson, Louis C.K, Bill Cosby, Donald Trump. We can forgive anything if we are getting something out of it. But can you ethically and morally separate the art and artist or the boss and the bully, especially when their behaviour traumatises people?

You cannot excuse them just because you enjoy their work or they make you money. The long game means that many will eventually end us losing. History tells us so. One law suit. One review. One person says something and soon the others come. The truth, just like the moon, cannot be hidden long.

But the lesson isn’t about that. That will sort itself out.

My lesson is that it’s important to share when you’re struggling. Talking helps you makes sense and decide. That great friend's and loved ones are your safety net, and that you will be the same for them or have been. It’s called love. So work hard and be nice to people. It’s easy if you try.

* Graphic Design -Anthony Burrill

The Rules For Real Luxury


While I organised an event last week for a luxury property launch in Sydney, it cemented my opinion that there are different sorts of luxury.  What luxury is to some, is merely mainstream to others. Yet luxury brands rely on the mainstream buyers to make their money. The designer fragrance from Gucci, the Miu Miu wallet for the young girl turning 21, or the entry point Ace Gucci sneaker for the Asian university student who may also be a moderate social influencer, all of these feed the bigger ambitions of the company.

The ladder of brands exists, and many aspire to climb it, working hard to own the IT bag from one of the Italian Houses or the new Prada sunglasses, and for some, to own such an item is as much a statement about their ability to earn as it is about their personal style.

But in the hierarchy of brands, and yes, there is a hierarchy of brands, no matter how hard a brand tries to be mainstream, sometimes the perception of these brands can’t be shifted no matter how fine the quality of the goods.

Brands that suffer from this taint include Kate Spade, Michael Kors, and Coach. Although I do think Coach has a chance of lifting itself from the middle-class malls with its clothing line which is proving to be better than anyone thought, providing they can get it onto the bodies of the right influencers.

Reinventing a brand is hard but it is possible. Burberry did it after they were known as the ‘chav’ brand with the pattern becoming the Rorschach of bad taste. Now it’s on point, with their Burberry track jacket a must have for the cooler members of the male population.

I am watching with interest the bombardment of Gucci into the mainstream. The head designer Alessandro Michelle is a genius, and prolific but how much pressure is he under to keep bringing out the Gucci ‘bling’. Now Gucci homewares are on offer, and I found myself making a face when I saw them. Not that I didn’t admire the patterns and designs, but the sheer mainstream-ness of it all made me feel like it wasn’t special anymore.

So why would the super-dollar-fabulistic wish to be with the great unwashed, with their brand of mainstream luxe found at Chadstone or Westfield Sydney?

As I consulted on a luxury property in Sydney, we discussed the super rich and their dislike of the ‘bling’. In France there is a saying, ‘Pour vivre heureux, vivons cachés’ (to live happily, live hidden). The French’s attitude to money isn’t just confined to France, although their history of beheading the super rich still pervades the hand-blocked wallpapered salons of the 19th arrondissement, hence their reluctance to be seen as gauche, in case the tax man comes calling.

A tax investigator once told me that she used to go through the glossy interior magazines, and look at the people who put their names and faces alongside their extremely expensive home renovation pictures, and she would cross reference the declared income in their tax information and if it didn’t make sense, then bam, you got yourself an audit.

But the truly wealthy don’t just wish to remain hidden because of tax, they fear their families safety. Rich people get kidnapped, that’s the truth, and we don’t hear about it, because the private security, kidnap and ransom agencies take care of it for them. Being subtle with your money is an art that only the truly rich have mastered.

Last week I worked on a project getting wealthy Saudi's to Madrid to watch El Clasico and then back again. Money is no object and the category one seats are scarcer then jadeite, so the pressure was on for them to be in and out with no fuss, and no fanfare.  Let's just say they fly in private and there's no checking into the business class lounge of the airline with your half a slice of pineapple on a plate and Nespresso coffee served in a cup and saucer. That's gauche and certainly saying too much about where you are and going.

Recently a friend flew first class to Europe. He didn't check in anywhere. He didn't have to. He doesn't measure his worth by his check-in's. He just values his comfort when flying. That is luxury.

But mainstream luxury is struggling to capture the youth. My son has a friend who is more on trend than any adult I know, and because he doesn’t subscribe to the luxury brands at the local shopping mall. He is hustling for Maison Margiela, Supreme, Bape, Fendi and Givenchy. The ‘mainstream’ brands are now worn as Anti-Fashion by my 20-year-old daughter and her friends. Mainstream logo t-shirts worn with cheap jewelry and statement sneakers are her piss-take on fashion. Fake bags are the currency, worn with a workman’s jacket from the charity shop. This juxtapositions of brands and textures, evokes a dystopian feel that reflects our current weariness of being constantly spruiked at by brands.

Now luxury brands find themselves in a bind. They need mainstream buyers but mainstream buyers make the brands less attractive to the truly wealthy, so they move onto obscure and subtle brands and suppliers.

For example, Hermes is a leathers good company, yet they put their designs on some cups and saucers and their logo underneath and you feel like you’re prestige. Those who buy their cups and saucers beach towels are funding the house so they can hand stitch the $15,000 jumping saddle for the heiress, Athina Onassis. A Hermes saddle is the height of luxury and so beautifully made, yet I doubt they wouldn’t make more than ten a year, so how can a luxury house survive on horse feed? It needs people to buy the cups and saucers or sunglasses, the aspirations of the everyday people are propping up the luxury market so Athina can have a saddle or the Dowager from New York can have her china mink lined Chanel tweed suit for the winter.

Currently, I am seeing a push towards the handmade, the obscure and the bespoke. The monogrammed everyday items, such as Frette sheets are popular, as is the hand-printed invitation on a silk scarf to a small dinner in an abandoned stately home in a faraway country. A treehouse escape in Africa, where you wake with giraffes eating your front door, as opposed to the supposed hotel luxury where you share your pool with three-year-olds and floating bandaids. The hand blended scent that you consult on and your pheremones are measured as opposed to the scents that permeate the department store, or the Vacheron Constantin hand-wound, in place of the Apple watch.

There is a list of luxury brands that the truly elite buy from. They are the brands that are mostly un-badged or subtly branded, yet still, offer the expectation of things that are beyond the reach of others. There are companies that will take all badging from your luxury car, so you don’t need to boast when you drive. Enjoy the car without the bullshit, as I heard someone state when they were considering the service. Perhaps it is all bullshit, but I subscribe to the belief that you like what you like and don't worry about anyone else, just make sure you're in control of where your money goes and you're not getting caught in the loop of the branding merchants.

Luxury exists in small unknown brands, beautiful items that may not have a huge presence but those who know them adore them. This is luxury – loving what you do, what you wear, and being in control of the spend and not being caught up in the war of the logo. Logos do not make you a better person. If you want the best, buy it, but don't assume the one with the biggest logo is the best.

If you or your company would like advice on the most bespoke brands in a certain area right now, please get in touch and I will be your sourcing sorceress.

Stay amazing.

Kate x