"I felt a lot of pressure back then," says Missy, currently touring Australia with John Butler Trio. "I was living in LA, hanging out mostly in the gay community, and they didn't take fondly to the idea I might be bisexual. The media were pushing me for an answer but I couldn't give them the headline they wanted. That's a big reason why I retreated." A conversation with musician Ben Lee, her close friend, changed everything. It's okay not to know, Lee told her. And it's okay to tell people that. "It was a revelation," she says. "It's so rare for people to publicly say they're still figuring it out." She eventually told The Age she was comfortable with the term "bisexual". Ironically, this cemented her status as a gay icon. Her fans didn't care where she pegged herself on the Kinsey scale. What they responded to was her honesty, her lack of shame, her rejection of the labels others tried to pin on her. Some thanked her for helping them come out; others said she inspired them to live more openly. "The older I get, the more I realise how similar we all are," says Missy, now 35. "When I was young, I was afraid of most people. I was sceptical that anyone could be trusted. Then you realise that behind the facade, everyone is still a little child; everyone is vulnerable. And when they lash out or put you down, it's usually not about you." Late last year, she released her best-of album, The Special Ones. There's a photo of her on the cover, aged six. She's dressed as Like a Virgin-era Madonna: white lace, red lipstick, artfully scrunched hair, a mole painted above her lip.

"My sister was always doing me up and it drove me crazy," she says. "I was such a tomboy. I just wanted to climb trees and play army games with my friends. Now I love getting my makeup done because it's a chance to lie back and relax." Higgins poses with baby Luna wearing a Bianca Spender “Madeline” dress and her own earrings. Credit:Damian Bennett The songs on The Special Ones span her 20-year career, which has yielded nine ARIA Awards and global record sales of two million. There's All for Believing, which helped her win Triple J's Unearthed in 2001, and hits such as Scar, Ten Days, The Special Two, Steer and Where I Stood. Rounding out the album are personal favourites including Cemetery, Torchlight and Arrows. When Missy recorded Arrows in 2015, she was three days away from giving birth to her first child, Samuel. The pregnancy imprinted itself on the song; her hormones lending her voice a slightly husky register. To prepare for parenthood, she worked her way through a pile of baby books. Some commanded a strict sleep routine; others dictated the "correct" way to feed or bathe an infant. Most portrayed mothers as little more than incubators or milk machines.

"You can't be a good parent unless you look after yourself," she says. "Keeping your sanity is very underrated. You won't ruin your child if you put them in front of PAW Patrol every now and then." Pinky McKay's book Parenting by Heart was different. Trust yourself, McKay advised her readers. You only need to be "good enough", not perfect. In August last year, Missy and Dan welcome their daughter, Luna. They've hit depths of exhaustion they didn't know existed. But in many ways, things are easier. "I was on a high after she was born. I wasn't riddled with anxiety the second time around, I wasn't worried I'd kill my baby by wrapping her blanket the wrong way. And without that constant dialogue in the back of my head – where I questioned everything I did – I could enjoy the magic of bringing a new human into the world." Missy wears Bianca Spender “Notre Dame” gown and Brie Leon earrings. Credit:Damian Bennett Most days end with Missy and Dan sprawled across the couch, too weary to converse. It's not a problem; she actually embraces these moments.

"In previous relationships," she says, "if someone was less than positive and chirpy, I'd freak out and think, 'What have I done wrong?' Being with Dan, I've learnt it's okay not to be your best self at all times. We allow each other to have our ups and downs. There's nothing worse than pretending to be someone you're not out of fear the other person might leave." The pair met in 2013 in Broome, while Missy was visiting a mate who shared a house with Dan. Fresh from a shower, he padded into the living room wearing only a towel. They made small talk while he did the dishes. Over the next few days, she dropped in to see her "friend" with suspicious frequency. By the end of the week, she'd agreed to perform with Dan's band at a mutual friend's wedding "We did this full-on raunchy performance of I Was Made for Loving You, getting right up in each other faces," she laughs. "I wore a leotard and wig and he had make-up on. Everyone was a bit shocked, they had no idea what had been happening between us." Such glam-rock bravado is a contrast to her off-stage demeanour. Today, she's wearing a plain white shirt and black pants. When I ask a question, she tends to pause, gazing leftward while she considers her answer.

Last year, Missy opened for Ed Sheeran during his Australian tour. Singing in front of 85,000 people at ANZ Stadium was fine. But if a friend asks her to give an impromptu speech at a party, she'll freeze. "When I've crafted and rehearsed a performance, I'm confident. Just hearing the word 'impromptu', though, makes me break out in a sweat. There's a certain vulnerability in not being able to prepare." In between the good songs, I’ve written so many bad ones – just awful. But there’s no way around it. You can’t judge yourself. Melissa Morrison Higgins grew up in the affluent Melbourne suburb of Armadale, the youngest of three children to Christopher, a GP, and Margaret, who worked in childcare. She recalls being "an intense little kid", acutely aware of others' emotions. If a joke popped into her head in class, she'd whisper it to a friend – who'd get the laugh by repeating it out loud. Immediately, she'd regret it; she longed to be the class clown.

Songwriting became an outlet in her teen years. Next to her dormitory at Geelong Grammar was a suite of soundproof music rooms. Each day, she'd open the heavy doors, waiting for the blissful silence to descend as they sealed shut behind her. Then she'd pound the piano and scream. Or she'd pour her heart into ballads, luxuriating in the way the notes bounced off the walls. Bianca Spender “Sloane” top, and “Harmony” pants. Temple of the Sun earrings. Credit:Damian Bennett It was a refuge from the pressures of boarding school. Her perfectionism, however, was impossible to escape. Towards the end of year 11, with her exams looming, Missy collapsed and was hospitalised. "I hadn't heard much at that point about this thing called depression," she says. "So when Dad confessed everything about his own life, and how he'd struggled with depression for years, it was a relief." Medication and therapy helped, but by the age of 25 she was in crisis again. No more tours, she told her manager. And no more records. She was quitting the music industry. "I'd been telling myself that once I reached a certain goal, I'd find happiness. But then I'd achieve that goal and go, 'Wait, where's the happiness I was promised?'

Loading "We're disconnected, as a society, from what really nourishes us. We think it's money and possessions and external success, but it's not. For me, it's something much closer to home. It's family, it's connecting with a friend, it's a moment of stillness." By allowing music to be the sole measure of her self-worth, it became a burden. But when she nurtured other parts of her life, her love of performing returned. "The big myth about songwriters is that what you hear is pretty much everything we've created," she says. "It's not true! In between the good songs, I've written so many bad ones – just awful. But there's no way around it. You can't judge yourself when you stumble. You have to get all of that out of your system before you find gold." Photography by Damian Bennett. Styling by Inez Garcia. Hair done by Keiren Street using Wella Professional. Make-up by Naomi McFadden using M.A.C.

Missy Higgins is touring with John Butler Trio throughout February. This article appears in Sunday Life magazine within the Sun-Herald and the Sunday Age on sale February 3.