Elizabeth Gilbert’s first book Eat Pray Love found me at the exact time I needed it, and I devoured every page like a Sara Lee sticky date pudding. She articulated her thoughts and feelings in a way that I hadn’t been able to do for myself, and reading her words comforted and inspired me, but also freed me.

I didn’t want the book to be over, and I was almost sad even just reading its words, because I knew the joy of reading them for the first time could never be recreated – although that didn’t stop me from highlighting and underlining my favourite passages so that I could go back to them again and again.

The fact is, I had become addicted to David (in my defense, he had fostered this, being something of a man-fatale), and now that his attention was wavering, I was suffering the easily foreseeable consequences. Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never even dared to admit that you wanted, an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement.

Soon you start craving that intense attention, with the hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is withheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but who now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free).

Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in a corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob your neighbors just to have that thing even one more time. Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you’re someone he’s never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You’re a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

Eat Pray Love was the Susan Boyle of the book world – immediately going viral after being passed from one woman’s hands to another, dispensing its panacea and wisdom. I bought it for my friends, because I wasn’t content in just telling them about it – because that left a chance that they might not actually buy it and thus experience her words.

As you may have heard, the movie adaptation of the book has been made. I must admit I have my reservations about Julia playing the part – can she convey Gilbert’s depth and spiritual yearning I ask? Gilbert on the other hand is non-plussed – she likens it to selling a house and then driving past it 6 months later and saying, oh, look at that ugly pergola they just put up. She let go once she sold the book and also likes Julia as an actress and is looking forward to seeing how it has been adapted for the screen. Her fans may be far less easy going.

So how could Gilbert’s next book possibly compare to the phenomenal success of Eat Pray Love? Gilbert speaks of this in the clip below “A New Way To Think About Creativity”.

I decided to approach Committed, the same way I like to approach New Years Eve – with as little expectation as possible. Committed was never going to be Eat Pray Love, because it is its own book in its own right – but I’d be lying if I wasn’t hoping to reunite with the Liz I met in Eat Pray love – just like catching up again with a BFF who has returned from overseas after being away for a couple of years.

When Felipe (the man Gilbert met in Indonesia) is denied entry back into America, the authorities order that they must marry, if Felipe is to be allowed to stay in the country. The predicament? Both are divorced and had staunch plans not to marry again, thus Gilbert must come to peace with the institution of marriage. The book follows her journey as she grapples with the notion of marriage whilst traveling with Felipe and desperately waiting for news on his application.

The first few chapters discuss Gilbert’s research into marriage, and read much like a history lesson – this is not my cup of tea (I’m an Earl Grey or chamomile girl just in case you were wondering). I found myself stopping and starting a lot, having to motivate myself to pick it up and continue reading. If like me you are not so interested in history, my advice is to skip the first few chapters and join Liz and Felipe on their travels.

It is here that I found the Gilbert that I loved – it was as though I’d been waiting for her at the airport, but her plane had been delayed – and then I’d finally spotted her and jumped over the rope and gave her a great big fat hug.

What I really related to in this book were her passages on children – you see, I am not sure I will have them myself. I’m 34 this year and I have no inkling whatsoever, and can’t imagine myself ever wanting to go through with it 24/7 (although I could end up doing a Nicole Kidman at 39 – but only if I had a nanny or a cleaner).

I believe in a woman’s right to choose whether she wants to have children (I can never understand people who have to argue with others choices – each to their own and all that), however, it is the battle we wage within ourselves over our decision that affects us more than outside opinion.

Every woman who has chosen not to have children, would have more than likely questioned whether she is selfish along with putting herself through the wringer over a myriad of other moral dilemmas before coming to peace with her decision.  It was Liz’s discussion about being an aunty that would prove to free me of questions I thought I had already workshopped.

“Being exempted from motherhood has also allowed me to become exactly the person I believe I was meant to be; not merely a writer, not merely a traveler, but also – in a quite marvelous fashion – an aunt.

Childbearing and child rearing consume so much energy that the women who do become mothers can quickly become swallowed up by that daunting task — if not outright killed by it. Thus, maybe we need extra females, women on the sidelines with undepleted energies, who are ready to leap into the mix and keep the tribe supported.”

It got me thinking of my own childhood, and how much of a special role my own aunties played in it. My aunty Regina would take me to the movies, my aunty Julie would have me sleep over and bought me first pair of boots aged 12 (they were very cool let me tell you – well, I certainly thought I was the bees knees in them), my aunty Loretta would take us swimming in the summer holidays and my aunty Marian picked us up religiously every day after school (she would even wait when I was tardy because I had stayed behind to help my teacher – yes, teacher’s pet was I).

Like Liz, I am not a mother, but I am an aunty. My niece Emily is the love of my life – I remember holding her for the very first time as a baby and whispering into her ear, “aunty Gaynor loves you Emily”, and I have never stopped telling her that every time I see her, speak to her on the phone or send her presents in the post to Perth – because above all, I think children should always know that they are loved.

I have watched her grow and cherished every moment, and I am sad that she is turning seven soon, because I just want her to stay little forever.

I sobbed for hours when she went back to Perth after her holiday to visit me in Melbourne, I would run in front of traffic to save her if I needed to and I never tire of talking to her on the phone – she has a intellect and wit way beyond her years that amuses me so. Needless to say, the next man to enter my life has some mighty big shoes to fill.

Committed also made me think about how we women must be committed to ourselves before we commit to another. I think we should marry ourselves in a sense – take our own vows and commit to look after ourselves, be kind to ourselves and love ourselves – till death do us part.

I recommend you read Committed and stay with it if you find it difficult to become involved initially – namely because it was wonderful to see how Gilbert’s physical and spiritual transformative journey in Eat Pray Love, led her to meeting the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

I must dash now. I’m off to shop for a ring – from me to me.