Back To Centre.

I once read some life advice in The New York Times from a widow mourning the passing of her husband. She’d been told to ‘sleep on his side of the bed’. She claimed doing so greatly lessened the ache of missing his physical presence. That filling the space where he once lay meant she yearned for him a little less.   

Months and months ago, when I was lying wide awake in the middle of the night, I remembered her advice. I’d read it a long time prior to my marriage falling apart but, there in the booming silence and the crushing darkness, it came to me. 

I have a habit of doing that; remembering things I’ve read. Not when I want to remember them, necessarily, like on command when quizzed, but when I need to. 

On that sleepless night, I recall rolling over to the right-hand side of the bed. It felt cold. The sheets were unwrinkled. They hadn’t had the weight of a body on top of them for a while. 

It felt slightly odd to be on the wrong side of the bed; by contrast it was mildly comforting. I don’t remember drifting off to sleep that night, only waking up. And when I did, it was morning. 

When I was holding onto my marriage, when I was trying to bend and twist and will it to work, when all I wanted was for him to stay, I was petrified. 

To the core. 

I was never scared of being alone; I am great alone. I enjoy alone. 

To continue reading this post, please subscribe here.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Swings And Roundabouts.

Yesterday, I opened a letter from my bank and baulked. Rising interest rates have added $1500 a month to my mortgage repayments. ‘Effective 16 March 2023’ it shouted and danced on the paper in my hands.

‘Thanks, cunts,’ I muttered under my breath. Now, don’t confuse me, or my words – I am grateful to be paying off my own home. I am fortunate, beyond measure. Acutely aware that a home of one’s own is increasingly becoming a privilege. I am not complaining. But fuck.  

Perturbed by the news, I hit the garden and began furiously weeding a patch outside my kitchen window. And then my phone rang.

It was my nephew, M, calling to tell me he was coming over in a few weeks to paint my bathroom ceiling and fix my doors. ‘Start making me a list of all the jobs you need done,’ he said, ‘and I’ll tick them off one by one.’

‘How lovely of you,’ I said. ‘Swings and roundabouts,’ I thought. Swings and roundabouts.

Something that has become abundantly clear to me over the past six months is how two things can be true at the same time. I always kind of knew it. But now I get it.

I am thirty-eight years old and, for the first time in my adult life, single. I am no longer a wife. I do not have a husband. I am not married. I am a single mother. I am a sole breadwinner. I am alone.

To continue reading this post, please subscribe here.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

JOIN ME AS I DO IT FOR THE PLOT…

I am very excited to announce my subscription only weekly newsletter has launched, with the first instalment landing in inboxes on February 23, 2023. 

People have been telling me for years to release a podcast. Maybe I will, one day. But I genuinely believe the world needs less podcasts, not more. I’m a writer. Words slip out from the tips of my fingers with such ease, it’d shock you. I think the world needs more words. And more readers. Less sixty second TikToks and Reels, and more sentences. Less noise in microphones, and more silence while reading thoughts. So I’m sticking true — to myself, my craft, and the kind of art I want to keep putting out in the world. There’s what’s popular, and there’s what’s right for you.

There’s a couple of reasons this newsletter is for paid subscribers only. 

One, I’m a good writer. You can read a huge volume of my work online for free. I’ll still share and post a lot of work that anyone with an internet connection can access for free. But this newsletter will not be one of them. 

Two, access to me is a privilege. Access to my life, and adventures, mishaps, and emotions, thoughts, and escapades, is a privilege. I am going to give it to you all. Raw and real. 

And what a privilege it will be for me to do so.

Join me as I do it for the plot. Subscribe now at sandisieger.substack.com.

Sandi Sieger1 Comment

22 THINGS I LEARNED IN 2022…

The hardest year of my life has taught me a few things — who is there, and who really cares. How being strong is both a blessing and a curse. How grateful I am for the past adversity in my life, because it’s wired me differently. And probably saved me. How I am only just beginning. How young I really am. How special and rare it is to meet and make so many new friends at an age when most people’s circles get smaller, and, let’s be honest, often more boring.

Thank you, #TWENTYTWENTYWOO. I am at peace, and yet somehow on fire. Here’s to my next chapter: #TWENTYTWENTYFREE — it’s going to be my most undaunted, audacious, completely savage, terribly striking, utterly magical, slightly unhinged, unreservedly formidable year yet. 

  1. Throw out the rule book — you can rewrite your story anytime.
  2. Match effort. Respond to energy. 
  3. Sometimes being alone is an upgrade. 
  4. Two things can be true at once.
  5. Your greatest loss might just be the biggest opportunity you ever have to become fully alive. 
  6. Success is often seen as one big breakthrough, one major milestone. But the reality is success comes from the small, slow, tedious work of showing up for yourself and your dreams over and over and over again. 
  7. Even in trauma, we can still find joy. 
  8. We are all alone. That is not to say we must be lonely. Keep company. But you better like yourself. Because it’s all you’ve got.
  9. We are all flawed, but we are still worthy. 
  10. Sometimes the fear doesn’t go away, so you have to do it afraid. 
  11. Life is full of sudden goodbyes. 
  12. The most courageous thing you can do is…what you want. This will make other people uncomfortable. They can get used to it or choke on it. Their call. 
  13. We are all going to suffer. You decide whether you cling to it, or whether you heal from it. 
  14. You know who’s going to give you everything? Yourself. 
  15. Children learn what they live. Your actions and attitude will determine if they live well — the rest of the stuff we worry about is just noise. 
  16. As you vibrate higher, as you level up, it may seem like your world is falling apart — but it’s falling into place. Don’t be surprised when those preventing progress are removed from your life.
  17. Spend the afternoon. You cannot take it with you. 
  18. Many people will be drawn to your light but will fold at their inability to handle it. Take nothing personal. 
  19. Romanticise your life. Even through the mess and uncertainty. Especially through the mess and uncertainty. 
  20. Perspective and gratitude is all you need to live in the now. Practice both daily. 
  21. It all works out in the end. 
  22. The woman who’s hustling cannot understand the woman who’s hating. We don’t speak the same language. This year, I’ve come to understand my hustle offends some. Good. I hope my hustle offends the shit of out you. I hope my stamina frightens you (it should, you could never). I hope my sparkle burns your eyes. I have so much more for you to be mad at. Just wait. 

Sandi Sieger1 Comment

Be Well, Be Kind, Be Brave.

I think now is as pertinent a time as ever to say a few things I’ve got on my mind:

Kindness begins and ends with us. Individually and collectively. Ditto consideration. And respect. Use yours liberally, without reservation. 

Panic is not a plan. Panic is not a plan. Say it louder, for the people in the back. 

It can be easy to get caught in the unrelenting news cycle, but refreshing your feed every five minutes is not helpful or healthy. Be informed, heed warnings and advice, be proactive, be responsible, aim to help flatten the curve. But switch off the TV. Close the apps. Then take a walk. Soak in some gorgeous autumn sunshine. Breathe. 

We’ve had a rough few months in Australia — robbed of a summer because it was in flames, every breath choked by smoke. That anger you had over that? That sadness? Don’t direct it into fear. Repurpose it and put love and money and hope into the many small towns that still need you. And if you want to direct anger anywhere, send it via Climate Act Now and put pressure on your local MP and the government to act on climate change. 

You’re allowed to feel however you want to feel. If that’s scared, anxious, concerned, in limbo, completely unaffected…you do you. There’s a wave of emotions out there right now and we’ve got to ride them. Just remember that kindness begins and ends with us. 

Finally, and maybe most importantly: if you haven’t already been living like you mean it, every day, it’s time to start. In fact, you’re overdue. Time is finite, nothing is guaranteed. Don’t wait for the disaster, the diagnosis, the pandemic, the problem. Your world, our world, can change at any moment, so please, I implore you, live like you mean it. Enjoy every moment. Do what you love. Be grateful for what you have. You already have more than you need. Do what you can for others, do what you can for you. Drown in life. Wildly. Bathe in it. Soak it in. Plunge it in love. Drench it in laughter. Nothing else matters. 

Once we’re on the other side of this, I’m popping this gold number back on and shouting you all a well deserved chilli margarita. 

Until then, be well, be kind, be brave. 

I love you all x

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Give Me The City That Never Sleeps.

give me the city that never sleeps

with its constant buzz and grimy bars 

the one we end up strewn across

from hotel lobbies to unnamed cars 

i don’t need to scream 

make me forget how to breathe instead

tangle your fingers through my hair

enmesh yourself in my bed

drink me in, the way you do a good red wine

slowly, at first, just one sip 

let the crushed grape linger on the back of your tongue

then hold it there and feel the bite against your lip 

you crave kisses by the truckload

you know i long for them too 

the nape of my neck, the curve on your chest 

i’ll never stop devouring you 

you love my pure heart

you want my dirty mind

come home to them both and tempt fate

it’s only in seeking that you may find 

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Choose Joy…

Around this time of year, people start wishing for it all to be over – the year, the day to day, the busyness of life. But I don’t want to plod my way across some imaginary finish line that marks the end of the year. I want to roll in with a bloody bang. And savour every last day. December isn’t a month to be wished away. This decade is never coming back. So this is your friendly reminder that you could die, at any time, or your entire world as you know it could change, at any given moment. Maybe, if you’re not already, it’s time to start living like you mean it. Living like this one precious life you have is fleeting. Maybe it’s time to stop telling yourself stories and start getting uncomfortable. Living in truth. Maybe it’s time to start choosing joy. Joy doesn’t just happen. It’s a decision you make about how you are going to live your life — and how you are going to respond to life. Here’s what I know: joy attracts joy. Here’s something else I know: who you surround yourself with is who you are. Who are you spending the rest of this year, this decade, with? My advice is to find people who speak your language, so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your spirit. The kind of people who understand what you do not say. The kind of people who light a fire in you. The ones who fill you with joy. Find one, or ten, of them. But more than anything, be one of them. The clock ticking over at New Year might signify a fresh start for some, but I don’t buy into that, and never have. You can reinvent yourself anytime you like. You can reflect, and reassess, on any day of the damn year. Fresh starts happen anytime you decide to embark on one. All you have is now. And, to me, that seems like a perfect place to start. Go be who you want to be. The person you need. Don’t put your happiness in a person, a possession or a profession. Joy is up to you. So is how you spend the last thirty-four days of this year. And any days you get beyond that. Find your joy — and keep choosing it every day.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Give Me What I Crave.

give me what i crave⁣

those hands in my hair ⁣

force me against the wall⁣

your heart beating bare

⁣i want that delicate balance ⁣

your fingerprints covering my skin ⁣

yet wrap me in your arms ⁣

in your lips, your grip, your sin ⁣

take me, silently, break me, tenderly⁣

until your kisses erase my scars ⁣

bruise my lips, devour me whole ⁣

show me what it means to see stars⁣

i might have my demons⁣

and you might have yours too ⁣

but mine are far more trouble⁣

because all my demons look like you⁣

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

They’ll Never Get You…

“They’ll never get you,” he says, walking ahead of me, teetering on the edge of the gutter. “They’ll never see you like I do. And they can’t, you haven’t shown them the darkest and dustiest corners of your mind.”

I stop and stare at him, my shoe hitting a lip in the concrete.

He turns and edges closer to me, then reaches out and tucks a wayward curl behind my ear. “And you ask me not to love you,” he sneers.

I stare at him, willing myself to look away, knowing I won’t.

“It’s hard to not fall in love with someone,” he continues, getting even closer, “when they’ve shown you the mixed up parts of their soul, and you’ve shown them yours.”

I keep staring.

His hand is lingering on my cheek, his fingers falling past my ear.

“Say it,” he demands, towering over me, feet firmly planted atop the gutter.

I’m still staring at him.

“The deeper our conversations, the more I find to love about you.”

“Stop it,” I tell him.

“I won’t,” he retorts, “I won’t because I’ll never get enough of exploring who you are.”

“Don’t,” I beg, shaking my head from side to side.

He stares, long and hard.

I finally look away.

His hand drops off my face.

He takes a few steps and turns, pausing to gaze through the glass walls of an office building, fixated on a painting in the foyer.

I let him hover for a while, before approaching.

“It’s a cool painting,” I say.

He’s silent.

We stand, side by side, staring at the hues of orange and blue, red and violet, that blur in front of us.

“You might never say it,” he states, turning to face me, “but I know.” He starts to walk away.

Now I’m fixated on the painting.

“C’mon,” he shouts, “let’s roll.”

I turn and see him sauntering off, his boots kicking out just a bit to the side with each step. He walks like he has nowhere and everywhere to be, all at once. It’s captivating, and irritating.

“Let’s get a nightcap,” he suggests, swaggering down the street, “and you can continue to pretend you don’t love me.”

I laugh and scoff, all at once, smiling, and blushing.

It’s so annoying when he’s right.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment

Condensation Drips On Brooklyn Rooftops.

‘Nice view, huh?’ he asks, placing my drink on the cardboard coaster.

It’s so hot the flute starts dripping, condensation rolling down its curved base.

‘The best,’ I reply.

He pauses.

‘Where you from?’

I look at the coaster, then up at him.

‘Melbourne, Australia,’ I say, with a smile.

‘Wow, a long way from home. You like New York?’

The coaster is already soggy. This heat is some kind of hell.

‘I love New York,’ I answer, in the kind of tone usually reserved for a person, not a place.

‘I think New York loves you too,’ and he winks, quickly wiping the dew from the marble table, walking away.

I scull half of my drink. I don’t mean to, but this weather calls for more than a simple sip. I fall back into the lounge chair. Cross my legs. Close my eyes. And breathe out deeply. I squint and my eyes open.

I do love New York, I think to myself. I love the way everybody here wants to be somebody. The way they believe they can. I love the boldness of it, and the courage. The audacity, if you will.

I take another swig of my drink. I stare at the towering building across the river, the one that reclaimed the New York skyline after 9/11, the one I have grown to love, so much. I try and work out why it transfixes me. It’s just a building, I scoff to myself. But I can’t deny that every time I catch a glimpse of it, my heart flutters. There’s something about it. Something about the way the light dances off it. From a distance. Something about its boldness. From up close. Something about the way it catches my eye, from so many nooks across the city. I suppose it’s audacious, too.

I lift my glass to finish my drink. The coaster has risen with it, stuck to the base of the flute. It’s sweltering.

‘Another?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely,’ I reply.

He picks up the empty flute. Wipes the beads of water off the table, again.

And I smirk as he places a crisp, new coaster in front of me.

Sandi SiegerLeave a comment