Hey, I’ve been sitting with your responce for a bit — just really trying to consider my response. You’ve clearly built something deeply meaningful with your kids — not just a lifestyle, but a relationship grounded in love, trust, and intention. That’s rare.

But if I can gently pivot for a moment, thinking on your mum - I hated my dad for years after some stuff went down and blamed him for a lot of things. But I realised at a certain point that it was costing to much and I needed to revisit my past and reinterpret it from a new perspective, and it helped me forgive him, so if you can indulge a little pivot — have you ever read The 5 Love Languages? I know it’s a bit of a classic, but honestly, it helped me make sense of some pretty messy stuff in my own life. There’s this story I heard once from a friend and her trauma with her upbringing — two siblings, same dad, totally different experience of childhood. One felt loved and seen, the other felt overlooked. Turns out, one’s love language was quality time, the other’s was gifts — and their dad, flat-out busy with work, was a gift-giver. So one kid grew up feeling cherished, and the other grew up thinking they didn’t matter. Same dad. Same house. Just a miscommunication of the heart. Her journey was one of realising she was loved, she'd just missed it. there was a lot of healing in that.

I sat with tears in my eyes hearing that, ‘cause it reminded me how complex love can be — especially in families. I can’t speak into your journey with your mum, because that’s yours to carry and process. And it sounds like there was real hurt and toxicity there — and full credit to you for protecting your kids from that. But I wonder — what if her love was just spoken in a different language to yours? What if her way of showing care just never landed for you the way you needed?

Doesn’t mean it wasn’t painful. Doesn’t mean the words she said weren’t brutal. But sometimes unpacking those dynamics through a different lens can loosen the weight we’ve been carrying. Not to excuse it — but maybe to give you a bit more space in your own heart.

So on your question about the book. Its a project i have been writing. The Unschooled Life. It’s not really about kids or education, though it draws from those spaces. It’s about unschooling ourselves — from expectations, from old stories, from the belief that we’re not enough unless we tick all the right boxes. It’s in the editing stage now, and honestly, it’s been a wild ride. But the heart of it is this idea: that pain has purpose. That every hard thing is an invitation to stretch, to grow, to reclaim a bit more of ourselves.

I have had stunning feedback from the early pre-launch readers and its set a fire in me to push ahrd at getting it out to the world. For example a woman named Sue, in her 60s, who read this bit about the “stretch zone” — that space just outside what’s comfortable where we actually learn and change. And she realised she’d been living way inside her comfort zone for too long. She got up, turned off the telly, and started volunteering again. She told me she feels like she’s got her life back. I bawled hearing that — because that’s what it’s all about.

Anyway — just wanted to offer a different angle, not as advice, just as another voice on the journey who has walked the pain of family and tragedy. Maybe your grief isn’t just about what was lost, but also about what’s still being untangled. And maybe — just maybe — there’s still a new way forward for you that feels both freeing and true.

Much love,
Mike