It doesn’t take much to be considered a difficult woman. There’s a long history of non-conforming women being derided and derogatorily called out as bolshy, hysterical, crazy hags, bitches or sluts.

They broke my heart and they killed me, but I didn’t die. They tried to bury me, they didn’t realize I was a seed.

I grew up listening to Irish singer Sinéad O’Connor and saw her play live a few times when she toured Australia, her voice was intense and beautiful. After watching the documentary, Nothing Compares about Sinéad a couple of months ago I gained a much deeper understanding of what an extraordinary woman she was, and the appalling way she was treated for speaking out on issues on which she has since been proved right. She was ahead of her time and paid a heavy price for her outspokenness, but never faltered in her conviction.

If I hope for anything as an artist, it’s that I inspire certain people to be who they really are. My audiences seem to be people who have been given a hard time for being who they are.

I felt very saddened by her death recently and was motivated to read her memoir to find out more about her perspectiven on her life and musical career. Rememberings reads in much the same way as Sinéad spoke and sang – conversational, unapologetic and frank with a mixture of toughness, vulnerability and naivety. She says she never wanted to be famous, and was unprepared for it at such a young age. It is clear that music was a mixed blessing for her. It provided an outlet, but shot her to stardom and into the hands of a business that gave her an international platform to speak her truth, but also tried to exploit her. The music industry did not consider what she wanted and failed to protect the star it created when things became difficult.

There is no point setting out on a healing journey if you’re not going to find yourself healed.

She wrote openly about the good the bad and the ugly of the music industry and her private life. The abuse inflicted on her by her mother as a child, the joy of having her own children, her mental health struggles, an unwavering faith and devotion to god, confusion, rage and laughter through life.

“I couldn’t admit it was her I was angry at, so I took it out on the world,” O’Connor writes. “And burned nearly every bridge I ever crossed.”

Turning into a wild child, she was eventually sent to a home run by nuns for wayward girls. It was one of the nuns that introduced her to the guitar. Music saved her, but it also caste her into the world of fame, and that was a lonely frightening place, distanced from reality and filled with other people who’s best (Kris Kristofferson, Micheal Hutchence) and worst (Prince, Dr Phil) characteristics were amplified when she came into contact with them.

I define success by whether I keep the contract I made with the Holy Spirit before I made one with the music business,” she explains. “I never signed anything that said I would be a good girl.

Much like this review, Rememberings is fragmented and non-linear. O’Connors voice and integrity shine through clearly in the narrative. Rememberings is an intimate, emotional portrayal of a life lived authentically in full colour, and without regret.

Vale Sinéad. Nothing compared to you.