It’s June 20—the solstice—and I’ve just lapped another year around the sun, my birthday.
I’m writing this from a secluded beach in Thailand. The same secret cove where Rocky and I met eight years ago, and where we’ve now returned as husband and wife. It’s the final stop on our 10-week honeymoon. Full circle in the most beautiful, goosebump-inducing way.
I still remember the exact journey all those years ago: an international flight, a long bus ride, a boat ride, a dusty tuk tuk, and finally, another boat skimming across the water toward this tiny, tucked-away beach. With every leg of the trip, I felt this undeniable pull. I didn’t know who I was about to meet—but I knew something life changing was about to happen.
That trip, that moment, that place—it was the turning point.
Returning to this place has me reflecting a lot. In 2017, I was turning 30, and my life had just been dismantled. My beautiful Nanna, my Maltese grandmother and second mother, had just passed away. I held her in my arms as she took her final breath. Her beautiful blue eyes opened one last time before gently closing for good, surrounded by her loved ones. We told her she was safe. That it was okay to let go. It was one of the most heartbreaking and peaceful ceremonial moments of my life.
Around the same time, a very significant relationship ended. One that had taken me across the world and brought me to live in Nicaragua and other parts of the world. It wasn’t a traditional relationship, but it was life-changing. In that chapter, I relocated there as a resident yoga facilitator and to my surprise, soon became a tattoo artist…that story’s for another time.
After almost three years abroad, I came back to Australia. I felt like a stranger in my own hometown. Newly single, grieving my Nanna, and trying to navigate a world that didn’t feel like mine anymore. And then, soon after my Nanna passed, my closest relative—my auntie—made the decision to leave our family. No explanation. No closure. Just gone. It’s one thing to lose someone to death. It’s another to lose them by choice. And that grief still lingers today.
And still, life had a surprise in store.
After such a heavy year, a brand-new friendship began to blossom. Marissa, who had started as my yoga student in Melbourne, invited me to spend New Year’s Eve with her, her boyfriend, her boyfriends brother (that’s Rocky 😉) and their friends in Thailand. We barely knew each other, but her energy was immediately infectious—warm, disarming, and effortlessly inviting. She has this way of making people feel safe, seen, and pulled into the moment. I said yes immediately—what did I have to lose? Originally, Marissa was meant to join the trip too, but heartbreakingly, her beloved Yia Yia passed just before. In her grief, she understandably chose to stay close to home and family.
This meant I was travelling to Thailand solo, to meet a group of men I hardly knew.
I remember sitting on that plane, assuming the worst. “Of course this is how I’ll end the year—isolated on a beach with a bunch of guys I don’t know.” But little did I know, that flight was taking me to my future husband.
From then on, our friendship didn’t just bloom into best friends but we became sister-in-laws and she stood beside us on our wedding day. And Rocky… well, Rocky and his family became my home.
Eight years later, we’re just about to finish the most magical 10-week honeymoon. 20,000 steps a day wandering through ancient sights and cities in Japan. Zip-lining through the raw jungle of Laos. Snorkeling in some of the world’s most pristine beaches in the Philippines—on a double honeymoon, no less. Eating the most delicious food in Vietnam. And now, ending in Thailand—where our love began!
To close off an epic adventure, we’re surrounded by some of our dearest friends who feel like family. Hired a private boat and sailed to the gorgeous Mu Ko Ang Thong National Park.
https://g.co/kgs/upueSuFthong Islands in Thailand, celebrating another lap around the sun and this glorious human experience together.
My heart is bursting with gratitude.
To Rocky—thank you. You met me at a time when I was broken. You helped me regain my faith in men. You showed me what real love looks like. What true masculinity looks like. That strength doesn’t mean being closed off, but rather being brave enough to feel and express. I never wanted to get married… and yet here I am. With you. Because of you. And I didn’t know love could keep deepening the way it has. But it does. Every day.
Thank you for believing in me. For seeing me. For helping me become the best version of myself. I love you—and I can’t wait to see what the rest of our life brings.
And to you, reading this—thank you. Whether you’ve been following my journey or have just stumbled across this post, I’m so grateful you’re here.
Love always, Chloe
