THE FULL, TRUE, EMOTIONAL JOURNEY

Writing this with only hours before the final episode airs, my emotions sit close to the surface. It’s a strange mix of reflection, excitement, a sense of something completing its circle, and the softness that comes with revisiting moments that changed you.

What a journey this has been. What a chapter of my life.

When this all began earlier this year, I had no expectations. I simply said yes to an experience, to possibility, to fun, to courage, to meeting women who were also choosing to live boldly. And then suddenly there I was, stepping out of a limousine on a red carpet that would shift my life.

I was meant to step out slowly, one foot out, pause, reflect, then the next foot, another pause, another graceful moment.

A loud laugh!!!!

No no, of course not, this is Janette.

One foot out, the other foot out and I was off, straight down that red carpet,  brain saying one foot in front of the other.

And then I heard it:

“Wow.”

Bear’s voice.

As I reached him, he looked at me with kind eyes, somewhat steady hands, and genuine warmth.

He told me I looked beautiful.

I told him I had a gift, and with hands shaking so much I could barely hold the paper, I read him a poem.

He held my hands to steady them.

It was tender. It was grounding.

It was just the beginning.

Inside the house, life burst open.

Big personalities, laughter everywhere, no nerves anymore, just the excitement

for what was to come

I tried finding my voice among it all and felt a little lost and unseen at first.

But that softened quickly, because of the women

We shared rooms, bathrooms, mirror space, clothes, food, secrets, fears and dreams. The intimacy of that alone created a bond unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

We were strangers who in hours became something more, something unique, something I am yet to define. Something I could not wait to understand more.

At night, as I lay in my bed, I’d listen to the quiet rhythm of the room, the soft snoring, the clink of a glass as someone stirred yet another teaspoon of magnesium to calm the body and tame the cramps (the joys of ageing, ha!), and the faint glow of a book being read under the covers so the rest of us could sleep.

It was humble, human, and strangely comforting.

These women know who they are and I loved every sound and every moment.

The quiet consideration of every woman in that room, the whispered check-ins about life, about how we were coping, became its own kind of comfort.

There were mornings brushing our teeth shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing about absolutely nothing.

There were tears and long hugs when someone’s story finally spilled from their beautiful heart.

And then, my birthday.

My first birthday without my family in many years.

But these women, women I’d only known for less than two weeks, surrounded me with so much love, it softened the ache instantly.

We all dressed in white. Why? Does it really matter? Because we are a group who decided that is what we wanted to do on that day!

They cooked for me, sang to me, celebrated me and they gifted me.

Bear even sent me a bouquet of flowers with a card, filled with beautiful words.

For someone who lives through words the way I do, it meant so much to receive some back.

For that moment in time, they were my family.

It felt right.

It felt like a blessing I didn’t know I needed.

Life wasn’t all dates and drama, it was full of the small, sacred moments that made the experience real. Twice-weekly phone calls with Mum and my boys grounded me. Hearing my granddaughter’s little goo’s and gaa’s through the phone became a moment I held onto whenever things felt overwhelming.

We enjoyed a beautiful group outings,  lunch at Pilu at Freshwater.

An afternoon at the beach soaking in the sun and delicious ice cream.

Ballet, camping, so many wonderful group dates

BUT the kitchen, oh, that was the heart of everything.

No cameras.

No pressure.

Just us being real, raw, just women being women.

Nightly chats around the table, confessions, stories, the jokes, taking comfort, and pure honesty. Those moments were golden

And then there was the dancing.

Right before rose ceremonies, someone would play the perfect song and we’d dance, in heels for those who could or barefoot for those who couldn’t (yes that was me a lot of the time) We would swirl around that kitchen, laughing, always laughing, singing, moving through the anticipation of what was about to unfold.

They were moments no camera ever captured, but they live in me as vividly as the day they happened. Even now, I still feel it.

We started as twenty women, all thrown together in the same unforgettable experience.

With each rose ceremony, and with every rose that wasn’t handed out, something shifted, a small weight settled in the room, a reminder that this journey was real and moving quickly.

After our camping weekend, the biggest echo came, five women went home.

The next morning, the air in the house felt hollow.

Seven of us remained, and the loss was real, you could feel it in our silence, our hugs, our eyes.

Grief for friendships only weeks old but deep as years.

With seven of us left in the house, things were getting real. We were feeling every moment.

That same day we received videos from home.

The very first face I saw was my granddaughter instant tears, instant heart swell.

Hearing my family tell me they loved me and were proud of me.

That is my life’s anchor.

That is what matters most to me.

And then came the last date, a cruise ship, cocktails, laughter, lunch and shared stories, reliving my past with my day, was still so raw. A spa moment the whole country saw. (Yes I am still blushing)  We grew closer again.

Then home-stays, my world, my people, my heart.

He fit in beautifully.

My dogs loved him.

My boys liked him.

Mum adored him.

And Leanne… well, Leanne the psychic friend gave him the ultimate test. He passed.

I laughed then, and I laugh now.

For a moment that day, I fell for him a little more.

People have asked why I didn’t tell Bear how I felt.

Why I held back.

Why I didn’t wear my heart openly like some of the others.

And here’s the truth

I live my life authentically. Calmly. Considerately.

I don’t fall in love in a few weeks.

I don’t open my heart while someone’s also exploring feelings with other women.

I wasn’t insecure, I was being true to who I am.

I express love through action, presence, and words that come from my soul, not pressure.

But I wouldn’t have still been there if I didn’t feel something real growing with him.

I wanted to see where the journey would go.

Then Africa.

Being rushed to the airport in disguise, handed a passport, not knowing where I was going.

Standing in the immigration line, opening it and reading

Johannesburg.

Cape Town.

South Africa.

Inside I exploded, jumping, yelling, celebrating silently because I had to keep calm.

My dream.

My bucket-list dream.

Could it be, can I allow myself to dream?

A safari in Africa.

The universe had my back the whole way. I felt my dad with me, especially knowing episode six honoured him.

I lived that entire week in gratitude.

The meeting his sons, his brother.

Instant connection, a grilling, I think I passed.

Beautiful boys, warm, kind, grounded.

They reminded me so much of my own.

We joked about Pilates vs beer, I told them I’d smash them in class. They swore I wouldn’t.

We bet beers over it.

They felt like boys my sons would get along with. Well, they all did love a beer!

Family meeting family, in a way, bonding over beer.

The safari, yes it happened, was magic.

I wore my glasses even though they didn’t match my outfit, I wasn’t about to miss a single detail.

Every blade of grass, every footprint in the dust, every slow turn of an animal’s head, every mountain peak, every moment of wild nature was breathing around me, it all felt unreal, it was everything.

There was something steadying and deeply moving about it, a kind of beauty that makes you pause and breathe a little slower.

And sitting by that fire with Bear, drinking champagne, talking about travel, life, how our boys might get along, for the first time, I allowed myself to think:

“It might be me.”

“I think it is me.”

"It is me"

Dare I say it?

I never let myself believe I could make it to the final two.

All the way through, I refused to think ahead or imagine outcomes. I stayed present, took each rose ceremony as it came, and every time my name was called I felt grateful, almost shocked. I’d pinch myself and think, I get one more week. One more adventure. One more chance to share this with these women and with Bear.

When we were down to five, I thought, Is this actually happening?

Down to three, Oh my God, really?

And then two, wow.

I’d walked into this experience with no expectations at all.

And somehow, there I was, standing in the final two.

The final morning, I felt, hopeful. I felt confident.

My dress, the most beautiful gown I’ve ever worn. Beautiful crystals catching and matching the African light, I felt like it was made for that destination, it made me feel like something out of a dream. My very own fairytale.

Getting ready overlooking the city felt surreal.

How did I get here?

How did this happen?

Pinch-me moment after pinch-me moment.

Then driving into the mountains, fierce wind whipping everywhere, my hair blowing, climbing the hill, the rocks in high heels and a gown.

It was hard.

A test.

And I wondered, was it a sign?

At the top, it was so romantic.

Golden light, mountains all around.

A scene made for a fairytale ending in my fairytale dress.

He took my hands.

I looked into his eyes.

And I saw it.

Sadness.

I knew before he spoke.

You were beautiful. You were authentic.

I felt a connection from the beginning.

Words.

But the words didn’t land, because the eyes told the truth.

And then

“You deserve to find love

but it's not with me.”

For a moment, I had no words.

Then they came, instinctively:

“As long as that decision comes from your heart, then it’s the right one.”

I hadn’t prepared for that moment.

I’d prepared for the opposite, for being chosen.

I felt blindsided.

The fairytale ripped away.

I wanted to run.

To tear off the dress.

Take down my hair.

Throw the shoes.

Disappear from the mountain.

But there were cameras, interviews, people.

No space to crumble.

Did I imagine it? Was I a fool?

It took time to fully process.

The flight home felt endless.

Being with my family, the best medicine.

A wall went up, yes, but only halfway.

I’m still open.

Still believing.

Still soft at the core.

And if you’re wondering

Was it worth it?

Absolutely.

One of the greatest experiences of my life.

No regrets.

And yes I found love,

in 19 extraordinary women.

My golden sisterhood.

My forever family.

This wasn’t my happily ever after with a man.

It was my happily ever after with a circle of women who changed my life.

That’s my love story.

My golden chapter.