Many people are very surprised to learn that I am a survivor of childhood abuse.
They ask, "How did you turn out so normal?"
My world was turned upside down and inside out when I was around eight, when my father had a nervous breakdown. He went AWOL after he had been to Melbourne to attend the funeral of a colleague he had worked with in the Victorian Police Force. I only really learnt the full story about what had happened last year at my mother's funeral. It seems my father had encouraged his young colleague to apply for a job in the city, but his colleague had committed suicide after the pressure of life as a young police officer took its toll on him emotionally. He had a wife and two young children. My father felt responsible for his death.
When my father returned to the family home a month later he was hospitalised and was barely recognisable to me. He had turned from a broad, strong man into one who shuffled when he walked, who had to make new notches on his belt to keep his trousers up.
From this point on, life as we knew it was very different. My father chose to self-medicate with alcohol over seeking professional support. He sat outside drinking, chain smoking, staring into space and talking to himself for hours on end.
Life for our family went downhill as my father's alcoholism and aggressive outbursts took over our lives. We tried our best to stay out of his way and knew that when he was in one of those moods, it was not very wise to be heard or seen.
My mother, bless her heart, tried very hard to hold our family together. For a while she did. But eventually friends stopped coming around as my father was so aggressive, and soon our family was completely isolated. When she tried to reach out for help it was ignored – you really didn't speak about those things back then.
But when you live with a violent, emotional and psychological abuser who constantly wears you down and tears shreds off you, it inevitably takes its toll.
She started drinking and eventually smoking, too – initially to keep him company, but before too long his aggressive ways started to also become her norm. I will never forget the nights they spent relentlessly screaming at each other for hours on end. I would lay in bed with the blankets over my head, crying.
Over time we began to learn that there was a mental illness that accompanied my father's alcoholism and abusive nature. His hands hit hard, but his words cut even deeper. I lived in fear every day of what he would say or do to me if he got angry.
The psychological effects of his emotional abuse were by far the most difficult for me to overcome.
For many years I was a bit lost. I was promiscuous and drank way too much. I had little care or regard for my body. I had no direction or career aspirations. I was out of the house whenever I could be, and I stayed at friends' places at any opportunity. It still amazes me that what was going on at home was just never discussed. We all hid it so well.
So how did I overcome all of this? How did I go on to break the cycle? I spent years asking myself this very question.
I started working at a school where most of the students were neglected, starved of attention and abused – socially, emotionally, physically, sexually. I didn't know it at the time, but the distance of living in another country, and working with these children who had endured so much in their short lives, was to be the first steps in my ability to make sense of my own childhood.
I began to realise that even though what we had endured as children was really difficult, we'd always had food on the table, beds to sleep in at night and clothes to wear. And, most importantly for the early years, one parent who actually gave a damn.
I learnt to heal – to forgive and understand a bit more about my family circumstances. I had the opportunity to grow as an individual away from my home town and everything I knew.
I spent the next few years living the life, travelling and forging a career for myself. I worked on my confidence and belief in myself as a woman. I also sought years of professional help through psychologists and counsellors, and talked about it all with trusted friends.
It is so easy to see it clearly now, but everything I went through was leading me to the point in my life that I'm at now.
I now have a business where I help other families better understand their child's challenging behaviour and know how to cope with the stresses of family life. I focus on the importance of respectful, healthy emotional communication and positive engagement. And my husband is the gentlest, kindest creature you will ever meet.
My parents and my challenging childhood taught me so much about the type of person I strive to be. I forgave them a long time ago as it was holding me back from experiencing the life I dreamt of.
My beautiful child came to me through an open adoption. I sometimes thank my father for that, as I was able to clearly see that being biologically related to someone doesn't affect your ability to love. I am living proof of this and I will be able to teach my daughter this too as she grows up and faces challenges in her life.
I will share with her my learnings about the importance of understanding and embracing where you came from.
It is an important part of who you are - but it doesn't have to define you.
The first few chapters of your story may have been written for you, but with a bit of hard work you can write your own happy ending.