Why I do this

I moved to Australia from England in 2017 with not much more than a couple of suitcases. Everything I owned fitted in them, and for a while that felt like freedom.

It did not last. Things gather — they always do. By 2019 I had somehow accumulated more than I needed all over again, so I spent a few weeks going right through the house. Letting go of that much at once changed how I thought about my belongings, and about myself.

Life carried on. I got married in 2018, and in 2021 I found out I was pregnant.

When our daughter arrived, everything I thought I knew about running a home went out the window. After a longer hospital stay than anyone expected, and a lot of questions nobody could answer, we learned in September 2023 that she has Cornelia de Lange Syndrome — a rare genetic condition most doctors have never come across either. In one way it was a relief to finally have a name for it. In another it rearranged everything I had pictured about being a mum. Underneath all of it I knew this was simply our path, and that we would be alright.

What it meant day to day was appointments, and a lot of them. In between, the simplest jobs — the dishes, a load of washing — started to feel enormous.

We moved at the end of 2022, looking for more space and more nature. My husband began working away a lot. I thought I would manage and mostly I did not: I was isolated, and I slipped into habits I am not proud of. Not long after we moved, my father-in-law passed away. It was a hard year.

I watched a lot of videos in that stretch, trying to learn my way out of it. They helped. But what I actually needed was not another tip — it was a person. Someone to keep me company, hold me to something, and help me start.

Going back to work is what shifted it. Stepping away from being a full-time mum, even briefly, reminded me who I was outside of it. It also showed me what I had been getting wrong. It was never about doing everything perfectly. It was about finding a balance, and asking for help before I was drowning.

That is why unjumble exists. Not because I am naturally organised — I am not — but because I know exactly what it feels like when a house starts closing in, and I know how much lighter everything gets when it stops.