Latest news with #GadigalCountry
ABC News
08-08-2025
- Health
- ABC News
Why women get bored with sex long before their male partners
Women who have lost interest in having sex with their partner may assume they don't like sex anymore. "The majority of women in long-term heteronormative relationships do tend to lose interest in sex earlier than the male partner," says Johanna Waugh, a provisional psychosexual therapist based in Sydney/Gadigal Country. And they often blame themselves. "A common internal narrative may be: 'What's wrong with me? I used to enjoy sex. Why don't I want it anymore?'" says Ms Waugh. But research shows it's less about not wanting sex and more about being bored with the sex available to them. It seems the same doesn't happen for men — at least, not as early into the relationship. Social researcher and author Wednesday Martin has previously told the ABC at least six longitudinal studies — in total tens of thousands of adults in the age range of 18 to 70 — showed "consistently that in a long-term committed exclusive relationship, women stop wanting to have sex in years one to four". Whereas men, she says, are "pretty happy having sex with their long-term partners for nine or 12 years without reporting boredom". Women crave novelty and excitement in the bedroom, says Ms Waugh, and the burden of mental load doesn't help to increase their sexual interest, either. Esther Perel, a psychotherapist who has spent years studying intimacy and monogamy, has been quoted as saying while men's sexual desire in long-term relationships declines gradually over the years, women's "plummets". "It's always been translated as, 'Well, that's because women care less about sex', rather than 'It's because women care less about the sex they can have in their committed relationships, which is often not interesting enough for them.'" One study from 2012 found for women only, lack of interest in sex was higher among those in a relationship of more than one year in duration. Research from 2018 found the longer the duration of the relationship, the more relationship quality could influence sexual desire in women. And while a 2023 study found sexual boredom to be more common for men in heterosexual long-term relationships, they still had high sexual desire for their partner overall, whereas women's desire for their partner declined as their boredom increased. Ms Waugh says without "effort or novelty", women's sexual desire can wane over time. In addition to the role monotony plays in this picture, researchers are increasingly looking at how the mental load factors into it. A study from Swinburne University of Technology in 2022 found that growing inequity over the course of a relationship was often at the root. Women are largely responsible for the "invisible and visible" work in the home, says Coby Baker, a sexologist in Melbourne/Naarm and south-west Victoria. "Women, generally speaking, take on more things like doing the kids' school lunches, pick-up and drop-off, thinking about the mother-in-law's birthday present. "Sex just becomes another thing on the to-do list." In relationships where household and caring duties are divided more equally, she says women are "more physically and emotionally available for sex". Having to parent a partner, rather than being able to nurture an emotional connection, can also kill sex drive, says Ms Baker. More broadly, she says the predictability of day-to-day life means the excitement of that early spark in the relationship fades. This is especially true for women, who are more likely to experience responsive desire (sexual desire that arises in response to stimulation or arousal, rather than spontaneously). Ms Baker says while some women experiencing a lack of desire or sexual dissatisfaction may choose to end or open the relationship, or even have an affair, the more common outcome is "putting up with bad sex". "They give men sex because they are tired of being nagged for it. Then they start to become resentful." Ms Waugh says many women aren't taught to prioritise their own pleasure, and instead treat sex as something they give rather than get to enjoy. She says many women want to change things, but aren't sure how to approach it. "They don't want to be unhappy. They want more. They want a partner that understands them and their needs." Ms Baker says women should remember low desire isn't something that needs to be "fixed". The Swinburne University research mentioned earlier found that while relationship inequities may have affected dyadic desire (the sexual desire one feels for another), they didn't significantly impact solo desire, which is individual feelings. "This suggests women's low desire isn't an internal sexual problem to be treated with mindfulness and jade eggs, but rather one that needs effort from both partners," the authors wrote. Many couples do find their way back when this issue is met with curiosity instead of criticism, says Ms Waugh. "Create a safe space to have an open conversation. It's important not to shame … but share your needs, frustrations, fears and longing. "Both partners need to be willing to explore their needs and identify the patterns." She says some couples may benefit from moving away from "strict ideas" of what sex should be and discussing other ways to be intimate. "Explore what sex means to each partner to find the connection." She says couples can introduce novelty back into the relationship by visiting a sex shop or going on date nights, for example. Ms Baker recommends couples be selective when choosing a time to talk about their sex life. "Not right in the middle of an argument," she says as an example. "Perhaps after dinner, when the kids have gone to bed." For women struggling with the mental load, Ms Waugh says men may be able to take on more of the workload. "A woman is more likely to rekindle desire when she feels heard and unburdened." If conversations are going nowhere, Ms Waugh recommends seeking support through a professional, which may include a couple's counsellor, sexologist or psychosexual therapist.
ABC News
04-08-2025
- Health
- ABC News
The price of perfectionism for women
In the early 2000s, Sheila Vijeyarasa was a powerful woman climbing the corporate ladder. At least that's how it looked from the outside. In reality, the now 48-year-old from Sydney/Gadigal Country says she spent 20 years dealing with "crippling amounts of anxiety and depression". All because she was a perfectionist. Sheila, who worked in accounting and publishing, would work ridiculously long hours — sometimes seven day a week — to try to satisfy her own high standards. "I wanted someone to say, 'you're amazing. You're the best.'" She says her strive for perfectionism meant her social life and relationships suffered, along with her mental health. Especially if she ever made a mistake. "I fell into a depression and anxiety. I stopped eating, I stopped sleeping, I stopped coping," she recalls about one particular incident. When you hear the term perfectionism, you might think of people who have achieved big goals, like winning gold at the Olympics. Or maybe you picture someone with a perfectly organised pantry, categorised and labelled. But real perfectionism is not necessarily about achievement or structure, and can be debilitating and all-consuming, as ABC podcast Ladies We Need to Talk discovered. While high achievers can also be perfectionists, there is a difference between pursuing excellence and pursuing perfection, explains Eileen Seah, a self-described "recovering perfectionist" and clinical psychologist. She is based in Sydney and specifically treats people with perfectionist tendencies. "Pursuing perfection is unattainable because in reality there's always going to be stuff that isn't going to be perfect," Ms Seah says. "Whereas excellence, it's having high standards, but also being very contextual, recognising there's certain limitations you should be adapting to." Perfectionism, which Ms Seah describes as a personality trait, often sits alongside anxiety, depression, disordered eating and compulsive behaviour. She says perfectionists are often workaholics and very detail-orientated — but also procrastinators. "You get people who are extremely paralysed by the fear of failure. "They avoid the tasks that they need to do … because they might be judged for their performance." Perfectionism can show up at any stage of life, such as school and university, work, and parenting. "To be constantly feeling the need to optimise, to do better, and not actually ever feeling that you're good enough … it's tiring, exhausting." Sheila says her earliest memories of perfectionism were in school. "I think this is a South-East Asian thing … an immigrant thing … but making a mistake just felt very scary. "There was no maliciousness behind my parents' intentions … they wanted me to be the best, because which parent doesn't want their child to be the best? "I was expected to perform at a high level [at school] … it was being in the top 1 per cent, it was topping exams, getting 100 per cent." And perfectionism hasn't just ruled Sheila's schooling and working life. Despite doing better in her mid-40s after confronting her perfectionism, those traits made a comeback during her experience with infertility. "I got all the herbs, the acupuncture, [the] best naturopath. I was like, let's see if we can do the MBA of the fertility journey. "And it was round after round, after round, and my mental health definitely declined." At 46, Sheila had to surrender her idea of a "perfect pregnancy" with her own egg, and tried getting pregnant using a donor egg. "It felt unnatural at the time. Yet my vision to be a mother was so strong. "I had to go through an immense amount of grief to let go of that perfect version of me that wanted to be a mother in a certain way." Like Sheila, 37-year-old Caroline Zielinski from Melbourne/Naarm remembers her perfectionism starting in school. "I remember being sick and Mum saying 'You should stay home'. And I remember crying and saying, 'No, I have to go in because I'll miss a day. And that means I won't learn'." Perceived failures also stay with her for a long time, like when she missed out on a dream job in her 20s. "Back then, pressure would break me. I think I cocked up the interview. I was so stressed, like I was so anxious because I wanted it so badly. "It devastated me for … a good 10 years." In her 20s, Caroline started seeing a psychologist hoping to address her perfectionism. "He lent me these lovely books, about kindness and accepting yourself as you are. "And I just remember reading them and going, 'Oh, well, it's a nice fairytale'. "He really tried to get me to be kind, but I ended up just abandoning that. I had a couple of sessions with him, and I just thought he was ineffective." This is a common story for people seeking support with perfectionism, explains Ms Seah. "Perfectionists [can] have very high standards that they place on other people. "The expectation that the therapist is going to fix them, and fix them quickly, [is] one of the common things I've encountered." Caroline says a "win or lose" perspective shapes so many parts of her life. "I often say, if you're going to do something, do it well or don't do it at all. She finds downtime difficult, because every moment must be optimised. "Like when I go on holidays, you've got to go and do hiking and hike the bigger mountain and push yourself a bit." Caroline also struggles when it comes to playtime with her three-year-old. "I built her a fairy playground out of all these different toilet paper rolls and stuff. "But it gets to a point where I'm like, 'You're doing it wrong, Evie'. "She just wants to play." Sheila, who ended up having a baby using a donor egg, says becoming a mum has "cured" her perfectionism. "This morning he had porridge all over his hands and he wanted a hug. And I was wearing this suit. "And I let him hug me … I'm not missing out a single hug. "I fought so hard to have [him]. And every moment with him is a miracle. I savour every delicious moment." Sheila says life looks totally different to when she was ruled by perfectionism. "There's honey dripping down the side and there's 50 teaspoons over there, and there's Lego and wet towels on the floor. "And it is like, little brave acts. It is little steps every single day. "It's been 20 years in the making, and I have a beautiful marriage, the messiest house, the most awesome son, because I honestly dealt with my perfectionism." Caroline says she's determined to get better at letting things go for her daughter's sake. "I do need to get on top of it because I don't want to pass this onto Evie."
ABC News
29-07-2025
- ABC News
What helped Lili after surviving domestic violence in childhood
Lili Greer remembers a feeling of constant dread during her childhood. "I was constantly worried for my mum's safety," the 27-year-old from Sydney/Gadigal Country says. Lili and her mum Tina were victims of domestic and family violence, perpetrated by Tina's boyfriend. As a child, Lili was exposed to many violent incidents directed mostly towards her mum, and says she felt helpless to stop it. When Lili was 13, her mum went missing. An inquest held in 2023, which Lili advocated for, found Tina was murdered "most likely violently" by her now-dead boyfriend. "My whole world fell apart … Mum was my person, and I was her person. She was my best friend. "I was concerned about my safety [after Mum went missing]; is this man coming for me? I still have significant issues sleeping from the after-effects of him stalking us." While Lili says her experience with violence and loss will have lifelong impacts, advocating for change has been part of her healing. Sneha Sapkota is program coordinator for Engender Equality's Advocates for Change and says advocacy is a chance for victim-survivors to rebuild community and reclaim their voice. "When you step into advocacy spaces, you get to experience allyship … you get to celebrate strength and resilience." The Australian Child Maltreatment Study published in 2023 found 39.6 per cent of children under 18 have been exposed to domestic violence. A third of those reported being exposed to more than 50 incidents. Tania Farha, CEO of Safe and Equal, says the ways in which children are impacted by domestic and family violence are extensive and profound. "Exposure to family violence can be damaging to long-term development, physical and mental health, and future relationships," she says. Ms Farha says meeting developmental milestones, and a secure attachment to caregivers may be disrupted, for example. Experiencing, and being exposed to, violence as a child stays with people into adulthood. "When you're a kid, and you experience these things, it impacts your basic sense of security," Ms Farha says. She says it's "always in the back of your mind" that you may not be able to access food or housing security, for example. In 2022, Lili founded The Tina Greer Project. She also works for a domestic violence charity and The Missed Foundation, which works to humanise missing persons, and alleviate the profound practical and emotional impacts on their families. Lili says she is passionate about improving the services and resources available to child victim-survivors. "At the time [of Mum's disappearance], there was no support provided to me. "I fell through the cracks because she was a missing person." Ms Farha says children and young people need tailored support services. "We really need people to view children and young people as victim-survivors in their own right, with their own unique needs — and not just extensions of their parents or caregivers. "What we should be better at doing is making sure we have bespoke responses for children at all ages, that continues over the life course, to make sure they can deal with any post-traumatic issues that emerge. "I don't think we do that as well as we should." Lili has written a children's book inspired by her experiences, titled Why Elle Spoke Up. The story is designed to encourage children to speak up if they are living in an unsafe home, and to support educators, counsellors and safe adults in starting difficult but necessary conversations. "I noticed there is a huge gap in terms of resources available for children, their friends, and just communities in general to have these conversations," Lili says. Daniel Mancuso's mum Teresa was murdered by her ex-husband, Daniel's father, in 2013. Daniel says he and his brother Luke were exposed to abuse growing up. "It's sad to say, we just assumed that was normal," the 35-year-old from Melbourne/Naarm says. "My mum was a kind soul. Her life revolved around her two boys. "She was always the life of the party." After their mum's death, Daniel and Luke moved into their grandparents' home, where she had been living. The Greek grandmother next door, also known as Yiayia, started looking after them, passing home-cooked meals over the fence. It inspired the pair to create Yiayia Next Door, sharing her recipes. And more importantly, showcasing the power of kindness and connection, and its role in violence prevention. "I'm trying to honour my mum's legacy, and give back," Daniel says. "I know that she would have done the same thing for us." Daniel says he hopes to reach younger generations and change attitudes, including gender stereotypes. "My experiences have given me a blueprint of what not to do — and the man I want to be. "Men try and be so masculine, but it's good to be vulnerable." Advocates are an essential part of working towards ending gender-based violence, says Sneha Sapkota. "We cannot have sustainable change without including lived experience." And while it's hard work, she says most advocates believe it's worthwhile. "There is fatigue. Changing systems take a long time, and there is a lot of push back, but there is so much healing." Lili says she her mum's fiercely protective nature and resolve to never back down encourages her to keep going. "Mum was a really tough lady. "Even though we did escape, unfortunately there was no support externally to help her. She was carrying so much. "I credit all of my life to her in terms of my personality and my work."
ABC News
29-07-2025
- ABC News
Why I quit my 30-year career as a flight attendant and became a chauffeur for pets
Sandy Robson was a flight attendant for three decades before COVID presented her with the chance to switch careers. After taking a redundancy from the job that "defined her", Sandy came across a Facebook ad looking for drivers — for pets. The 58-year-old now works for a pet-sitting service, transporting animals between their homes and their sitters around Sydney/Gadigal Country. "I just potter around in my boss's car, talking nonsense to dogs and cats all day … Everyone is much more envious of that than when I was a flight attendant." We spoke to Sandy about her career switch, which also included a stint in retail and bartending on a vintage train. These are her words. I started [as a flight attendant] in 1992 when Qantas was recruiting for Japanese speakers. That's something I did at high school and in university. It was the peak of Japanese tourism in Australia. I started off as a flight attendant and made my way through the ranks to supervisor and eventually cabin manager. The best thing was we had lots of long trips and long time in various ports. But once Qantas was sold and they started to cut costs, they started making trips shorter. We called them slam-clickers — where you get off the flight, go to your hotel room, and only leave to come out for work. What kept me there was the fun and the great people I worked with. We had a laugh every single day. And the cheap travel. I was working in short-haul domestic flights for three years of COVID. It was all about the handwashing and the masks and people getting edgy on flights. They offered a redundancy, and I thought "the writing's on the wall now — get out while they're offering money to do so". I wasn't one of those people who were very upset to leave, or felt forced out. It was time. One of the first things I did was get a pet, then the second was book subscriptions, because I knew I was going to be home for shows, the theatre, birthdays. That was the first Christmas I knew I would be home in 30 years, and I got to spend it with my sister and her husband, and my beautiful 19-year-old niece. I had a good payout from Qantas, so had the financial stability to experiment with work a bit. I own my home. I don't have dependants, just the cats. I decided I needed to do something to get out of my house because it was [during] COVID, and a lot of retail was considered essential work. I worked in a homewares store, which was considered a vital industry. I don't know why, I guess people need sheets and towels! I found that very different to the airline. People really didn't treat you well in retail, even though it was a lovely shop. People were quite respectful to flight attendants. You had the odd drongo, but [most passengers] knew you were there doing a hard job, looking after their safety. Do you have a unique job you often get questions about? We'd love to hear about it lifestyle@ After a couple of years in retail, I was offered work on a vintage train. It was the old Southern Aurora, a stainless-steel diesel from 1962. The owners knew someone from Qantas and he recruited his friends to work on it — it was taken over by Qantas people. The owners of the train were delighted because they had this pre-trained … workforce. We all knew the way each other worked, and how to move around each other in confined spaces. I was the bartender. I absolutely loved it and would be doing it now if it didn't change hands. For the pet-sitting company, I pick up the pets from the owners and take them to the pet sitter's home with their belongings. And reverse when the owners get back from holiday. After 30 years of working with people, it's really nice to have customers that can't talk. I've lived in Sydney all my life, so I'm not daunted by traffic or parking. You have some hysterical moments. I have this golden retriever who gets car sick ... Throws up, tries to eat it, and then sits in it. Then I have a Maine coon [cat] who lives in the poshest house imaginable and gets sent to quite a small apartment. He yells at me the whole way. People comment about how wonderful it must be. I say, 'It's not well paid, but it's hugely emotionally rewarding'. I just love animals. I get so much out of it when I see the dogs reunited with their owners.
ABC News
28-07-2025
- Business
- ABC News
What influencers and content creators can claim as tax deductions
When Queenie Tan started earning income as a content creator, she was a bit "scrappy" with her record keeping. "I wasn't earning very much, it was just on the side," the 29-year-old licensed financial creator from Sydney/Gadigal Country says. "My first purchase was a $50 microphone — I would forget to keep receipts for those sorts of things, but you should, because that could be deducted." Jenny Wong, tax lead in policy and advocacy at Australia's largest accounting body CPA Australia, says influencers may not be aware of what they can claim on tax, as well as what they need to declare. For example, non-cash benefits such as gifts. Ms Wong says income generated from side-hustles has become a major focus for the Australian Taxation Office (ATO), with digital service platforms such as YouTube and OnlyFans now legally required to report the income earned by their users. "[Sometimes content creators] think it's a hobby and they don't need to declare … but if there is some regular activity or potential of making profit, then in most cases, generally the ATO will see that as income." The tax implications of earning money from content creation, including content created as an influencer on social media platforms, is "the same as for anyone else", an ATO spokesperson says. "Income earned is taxable, regardless of the form in which it is given to you." If you are paid with goods or other benefits, for example being able to keep an outfit used in a post, or being "gifted" something, that is classed as a "bartering transaction". And that is subject to the same income tax and GST treatment as normal cash or credit payments, the spokesperson says. If an influencer is earning money through continuous and repeated activities for the purpose of making a profit, then it's likely they are running a business, according to the ATO. "If so, they will need to register for GST and lodge a business activity statement if they exceed or expected to meet the GST turnover threshold of $75,000 per annum," the spokesperson says. Influencing would not be considered a business if it was a one-off transaction, or a hobby, or recreation in which you don't seek to profit, for example. Queenie, who has 450,000 followers across her social platforms, is now a full-time content creator. And she has become much better at knowing what she can claim. Because she makes video content, Queenie has claimed camera equipment, microphones and lighting equipment on her tax. The ATO says to be able to claim a deduction for an expense you must spend the money yourself and not get a reimbursement, the expense must directly relate to earning your income, and you must have a record to prove it (usually a receipt). "You can only claim GST credits for the GST included in the price of any goods and services acquired for business purposes," a spokesperson says. Queenie says she stays on top of her tax by keeping things separate to her everyday spending. "Now I use [an app] which just makes it so much easier. It connects to all your bank accounts, and now I have a separate credit card just for business purposes." The ATO spokesperson says it is important to maintain accurate records. "We have sophisticated data-matching and analytical tools that enable us to identify under-reporting of income or not being registered for GST when required to be. "Where we identify people that have made a genuine mistake, we will support them in understanding the law and getting back on track." If in doubt, Ms Wong recommends people see a registered tax accountant. "Don't risk it." This article contains general information only. You should consider obtaining independent professional advice in relation to your particular circumstances.
