Bruises on my soul...

It was 2001 when I first made the decision to give up. Before then it was never an option. As a kid I imagined myself a brave and fearless Australian sportsperson (I loved them because they ALWAYS won and on those rare occasions when they didn't they would show so much heart and pride and would do whatever it took, even bending the rules to help them succeed!)

But in 2001 my Dad, who had mentally unwell and unstable for some time, took things to a whole new level of crazy including locking us inside the house for one whole week, huddled in his bedroom, because people were "after us". During the year we lived in three different cities, I changed schools twice in my last year and had to change subjects all over the place each time, all the while trying to prevent my Dad from taking his life.

And I remember one day being in a history exam and just being like "what's the point?" so I put my pen down, and gazed out the window for the last hour. Now to understand this, you need to know that I loved history and I loved school. I didn't love it, I adored it...it was my outlet. I excelled there and that gave me confidence and made me secure. But on that day I dropped that security.

About a year later, I found all the pain in my life, all the bruises on my soul as I like to call them, began to feel too big for me to contain and I would cry for hours without solace. So began my journey into the realm of my own personal mental health.

That decision of giving up has haunted me ever since. I've been the person who has had a million jobs and studied a million things and given up on most of them. Now is the hour for me to reclaim my perseverance!