I could not have been happier the day Melbourne came out of lockdown. I went out in the sunshine, the cafes had burst into life overnight, there were people out on the streets, traffic. I even bought a dress that first Friday from an outdoor trading boutique. It was exciting! Things felt the best they’d felt in forever. We’d actually made it. But now it’s been a week or two, and things are starting to feel…weird. The shops are back open, the cafes are still buzzing, I know I should be bursting with possibility. But in truth? That sense of pure, bright elation only lasted a day or two for me.

Lately, I’ve come to realise that life, itself, is a lesson in being strong. You don’t need to go out and find it, this living-strength. Day to day living, without any of the extra trimmings, is an act of strength. And we can’t escape it — life, or this weird level of strength that piles up slowly, whether we like it or not. And that’s actually a good thing, even if it seems like it’s not. This year, I conquered a bunch of medical-related fears. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. After all, curveballs are either dodged or caught with full force. In my case, I had no choice but to face them, even as they attempted to bowl me over in the process.