She gives hugs instead of shaking hands, will not apologise for it, and says nobody has ever pulled away. Helen Lingard writes exactly like that: warm, unedited, running on dots and asides, and completely uninterested in sounding professional.
The subject is coping. Losing a pet as a single parent. Sitting with grief that has not moved on schedule. Being bullied and eventually deciding the bully was not a bad person. Redundancy treated as an opening rather than an ending. Saying goodbye to an aunt. Being alone and finding out what that is actually like.
There is a great deal of law of attraction material threaded through it, and if that is not your language you will skim a lot. What survives regardless is the autobiography. She moved from London to New Zealand on a whim after meeting somebody, having planned to go somewhere else entirely, and she tells that story without smoothing the edges.
Eighty posts. Go to the ones about grief, bullying and being alone. They are where she stops performing.