Carly Findlay’s memoir, Say Hello

Hi there! Last month, I went to Carly Findlay’s book launch. The atmosphere was lovely and I came away with a copy of her book. I then spent the next few days devouring it.

A book rests on the edge of a tram window-ledge. It is facing up, the front cover reads in orange and black writing, "Say Hello Carly Findlay   How I became my own fangirl: a moir and manifesto on difference, acceptance, self-love and belief" Beside the words is a picture of Carly, who has a red face and dark curly hair. She is smiling and wearing an orange skirt, white top and pink tank top with colourful flower designs.

Carly is an award-winning writer, speaker and appearance activist, writing about disability and appearance diversity issues. She is a proud disabled woman, living with a rare skin condition, ichthyosis. She is an awesome person and I’m glad I’ve met her.

Her memoir, Say Hello, details her life growing up with ichthyosis and how she has come to be proud of her disability and to own it. She speaks honestly of the ups and downs of living with her disability. The highs of family support, fandom, finding her community, loving herself and disability pride – and the lows of people’s ableism*, their pitying attitudes and intrusive questions.

N.B. Ableism = discrimination and/or prejudice against disabled people.

On her website, Carly writes about her book:


There was no one in media or books who looked like me, or to tell me it’s ok to not want to change my appearance, and I didn’t know whether I’d find love – love with another or love for myself. I had to write that book. To be the person Little Carly needed. In Say Hello, I want to show parents who have a disabled child that there is no need to grieve a life lost – because their child is alive and can live a great life with love and support. I want to show readers how to be proud of their identity and their appearance, and love themselves even when the world has told them they have to hide. Representation matters. I hope this book is the start of more people with ichthyosis telling their own story – to shift the focus from the exploitative media we are seeing a lot of. Representation matters because shapes the way ichthyosis is seen, and lets people with ichthyosis see themselves. Disability literature must be disability-led.”

I related to parts of this book – being the odd-one-out sucks, and escapism through fandom, then finding my people, those who get me, have been saving graces. However, I should say too that my disability is invisible, so I have had more privilege than Carly. For example, I don’t get asked “what happened to my face?” regularly when I’m out and about, and people don’t flinch away from me or avoid touching me. Carly speaks candidly of these sorts of instances in Say Hello. She has faced plenty of discrimination and casual ableism. It sucks and, as Carly details in the book, is exhausting. People, stop it. PSA: check your attitudes and your privilege, drat it, in thinking about, seeing and interacting with disabled people. Stop making assumptions on behalf of us. We’re just going about our daily lives, ‘k? We’re not your bloody inspiration! Seriously, back off. 😡

Carly is unapologetic about her disability activism, politics and pride. From Carly and others like her, I am learning to be the same.

I encourage everyone to read Carly’s book. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s an angry memoir in parts (with good reason), as well as being laugh-out-loud funny and heart-warming. Thanks for writing it Carly. I can’t wait to read what you write next!

Buy Say Hello from Booktopia (paperback) and Apple Books (ebook), as well as department stores and bookstores in Australia and New Zealand. Carly is also doing a book tour. Having already visited Melbourne and Sydney (and with the Brisbane event sold out), she’s going to Perth, Albury Wodonga, Wagga Wagga, Canberra and Adelaide as well. See her website ( for details.

[Reblogged] Guest Post: Breaking The Low Mood Cycle

Interesting stuff in the Captain Awkward archives. Reminds me a bit of some of the things (like stress buckets and activity scheduling) we looked at in my mental health subject earlier this year. So I am sharing it and bookmarking it. Check it out.

Also: five days in a row of blogging last week, yay! That is down to scheduling and while I know I can’t always do it, it’s nice when it happens.

via Guest Post: Breaking The Low Mood Cycle

REBLOG: Forgiving Those Who’ve Wronged Us

Kristi, from the blog finding ninee, talks about forgiveness.

We Have To Forgive Those Who Wrong Us

UGH, right? Here’s the deal, friends. Forgiving people who’ve betrayed us is hard. Like, really really really hard. The mere thought of forgiving somebody who has wronged me – especially when it feels as if they’ve done so on purpose, brings out the bear. The bitch.

When the bear feels too wounded and bumbling to know what to do, I become an older, taller, more wrinkled version of myself at the age of two. I become the I ain’t havin’ none of it, no matter what, arms crossed, feet stompin’ “I know best and you wronged me” toddler.

I’m not talking about giving the kind of forgiveness that happens when a spouse comes home too late from work to ensure that dinner, bath and bedtime are ideal. Of course, you want to throw a sponge at his head, but that type of forgiveness is understandable, and easy, after the moment.

I’m talking about giving the kind of forgiveness that we have to breathe deeply to give. I’m talking about the forgiving of people who were mean, thoughtless, and deeply hurt us.

The kind of forgiveness that brings out our toddler.

I know.

I know.

I KNOW, it sucks. It totally suckity sucksuck SUCKS because why should we?

But guys, we need to. We do, and I know it sucks.

We Have To Forgive Those Who Wrong Us

We Have To Forgive Those Who Wrong Us

Why should we forgive the guy who laughed at us when we fell? Why should we forgive the stupid single beotch with a full cart in line at the “12 or Under” checkout when we stand there, with a I-NEED-TO-NURSE-NOW-BABY and we’re in the store for tampons (and wine)?

Here’s why.

Forgiveness is about ourselves, and making room for light. It’s about not carrying around darkness.

And while I grumble and cry and stomp my toddler feet, I am writing this:

To those who have hurt me: Fuck you. Stupid Dicks.

Wait, sorry. Start over.

To those who have hurt me, I’m choosing light. Here are a few of the moments I want to release and the ones I choose to forgive.

Read the rest here.