OUR STORY is the mental health photography exhibition created by Teyarnea Nelson in 2019. OUR STORY is now being turned into a movement that provides HOPE, empowerment and conversations. Making a difference to mental health.

To Teyarnea & her fiance Bec, Mental health is such an important topic of life that needs less stigma, awareness and acceptance. In the stories shared on this page is a place where all participants can be vulnerable and ourselves.

Teyarnea, herself is a survivor of assault, abuse and suffered with mental illness for almost 15 years while for the last 5 years her wife Bec has walked along the path beside her. This is something that no-one should suffer alone or in silence, as we aren’t alone, we have each other and that’s important as we can all relate in our similar ways. Now created, this series is one that I hope will continue on for a long time with more and more people joining us and sharing their story with the world as it’s not something that needs to be hidden anymore. Our stories are what we’ve lived through and SURVIVED, these events are what have shaped us as individuals we are today and no one can take that away from us. From both Teyarnea & Bec, We thank everyone for the love and support in making this journey a truly memorable one and the support surrounding OUR STORY .

If you or someone you love is struggling with mental ill health, please reach out; click this text to be taken to appropriate support and helplines.


TRIGGER WARNING FOR ALL CONTENT ON THIS PAGE

“Adam’s gone to Heaven”. At 9 years old, those aren’t the words you’d ever expect to hear at around 10pm on a school night. At 9 years old you’d never even think of losing your older brother. 11th of August 2009, I heard the most heartbreaking four words.. “Adam’s gone to Heaven”. I don’t remember much at all from the rest of 2009, and the next 3 years were a blur. I didn’t show how much I struggled because when the rest of the family were struggling we needed someone to be strong, right? I took on that role, that someone was me. It wasn’t until high school when I finally had a break down in front of a school teacher. There were kids telling the principal I was inflicting harm to myself, and that’s when it was clear I needed help. I then attempted to take my life during year 8. This is what it took for the public health system to finally admit a “very distressed and unstable teen” into an acute psychiatric facility 5 hours away from home. It was the worst but best experience of my life.. The thing they don’t tell you, is how to grow on the outside; away from the facilities and full time care. I’ll admit, I was petrified to come back to reality because I didn’t have the protection of white walls, security doors, and bars around the outside area. They let me back into society because we thought I was better and stronger. Lets just say, I did not have the skills and strategies to keep myself in a safe mindset.. School was a major factor which lead to me leaving in year 10. The self inflicted harm continued, I was smoking endlessly, and in all honesty, I had no care in the world what happened to me or what anyone thought of me. Everyone already thought I was a “freak”, so I stopped trying. The idea of suicide became very real again; to the point it lead me to another week in an acute psychiatric facility, while they got my medication sorted. After this, I felt safe again. The last year of school was the worst; multiple trips to emergency due to self inflicted harm, and more attempts to take my own life because I was unable to cope with the pain I was experiencing. I lost my sense of worth and want/need to be around. Add 7 years and things have still been rough but I AM STILL HERE. I was in 2 abusive relationships that really impacted with my mental health. March 2018 I tried to take my own life. I was selfish, I just wanted it to end. It meant I was in control. As soon as I attempted, I was in a state of instant regret. To this day the episode I endured that day is a blank state. I didn’t know what I was doing, and that is the scary part about all of this. It was a major eye opener. I almost lost my battle to this illness due to an attempt that had me rushed to Hospital. This was the wake up I needed to really work on myself and receive all the support and help I needed and continue to need. I did this not only for myself, but for everyone else around me. It’s not only a struggle for me, but my friends and family rode it with me, every single step of the way. It affects them as much as it does me. There is light on the other side. Remember, we all have our rough days; but it’s okay not to be okay. Seek help from a loved one or your local GP.

A letter to my mentor,

Sully, The continuous strength and difference you made as a mentor was from the depths of your heart. Continuing to keep a young distressed teenage girl safe during her adolescence when she was stubborn and refused the help will today forever hold a space in my heart. I was Traumatised, But you were the only man who seen me in the daily crisis’s and not once did you give up on me as hard as some of those days were for the both of us. I will never forget the things you did to keep me safe not only from myself but the darkness I was walking through. You being there for me during year 9 and 10 is the reason I am achieving the things I am today. I want to give back, to those kids who I once was, To make a difference in their lives, even if it takes them 7 years to see what I did for them like it took me to recognise the things you did for me. Together, We are going to make a difference.

My story starts at the tender age of 5. It was November 1997\. A day that is imprinted in my mind so very clearly since. Being pulled out of school was something very unusual, for myself and my brother. It had not happened before. As kids we were just excited to be getting out of school early! A family friend came to pick us up, she then proceeded to take us to the lolly shop and brought us some treats. How exciting! Or so we thought... We then continued on home to what seemed to be an empty house but dad's car was there. Something wasn't right. Maybe mum was a little bit sicker than yesterday? I dumped my school bag and went racing to mum and dad's bedroom before anyone had realised. As I approached the room there was mum, dad kneeling on the floor in a mess with the pastor from our local church standing with a hand on his shoulder. It was at that moment I had realized mum was gone. I had no control over the outburst that followed as I was being dragged away by our family friend away from this horrible site. She tried her best to explain everything gently but what good is that to a child who has lost their mum..? I remember the day we said our final goodbyes. Most people assume a 5 year old wouldn't understand a funeral. I understood very well. I remember sitting up the front of the church staring at a box through my swollen tear filled eyes, knowing that we were saying goodbye to my beautiful mum. Then the moment came to bury her, oh what a horrible time this was! I threw a picture I had drawn for her in her favorite colour and some bark, as I was told it was time to go. “Say one last goodbye, Millie", dad said as he scooped up his shattered daughter. I could not contain any emotions at that point still and continued to wail for my mum! A very vivid traumatic memory for me to share but something that plays through my mind nearly on a daily basis. I struggled all my life allowing anyone to become too close to me since. I have lost some amazing people in my life due to this, family included. This is a subconscious protection mechanism that I have developed to protect myself from either hurt or harm. As a teenager I took up a lot of self-destructive habits. The first being self-harm. Self-harm was a go to when I wasn't feeling anything. It had allowed me to feel. Silly you may think but when you become so numb inside what else to you do to prove to yourself that you are still human and alive? My self harm habits become quite addicting and continued down some very dangerous paths. I managed to stop damaging my body by choice or so I had thought... Alcohol was a dear friend of mine through-out my late teenage years and early 20's. This in turn was causing me some quite strong blackouts where my self-harm would continue from that state. Nothing scarier than the first time you awake in the morning to find large amounts of blood, poorly cleaned up and cuts up your arms. I thought I was done with this!? How can I control something that is happening when I am drinking, to cope? Stop drinking was the only option. Obviously. After the drinking had stopped, the blackouts continued. I was in a very poor mental state which needed serious intervention. I had attempted multiple times to take my life with little success. This involved a number of stays between Bega and Goulburn phsyciatric facilities. Alot went on behind the walls of those facilities most of which has become quite a blur to me now. Things improved for a little while and life seemed to be getting back on track after countless hospital stays, medication changes, the multiple stays in Phsyc units and being picked up by the police in a psychotic state. There is a lot more I could include but it simply came down to the fact that I was a complete danger to myself and at times to others as well. The self hate I had for myself was so extreme! My life became quite out of control. To the point where I had lost control again to blackouts. My mind would switch itself into auto-pilot as things would become too much and then there was no telling what was going to happen. I became very sick from very extreme self-harm, which I cannot go into detail about as the details are lost to me. I was released from a 4 month stay which was between a psychiatric hospital and a rehab facility. I had come home with a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Dissorder and Post Traumatic Stress disorder. This was hard enough to grasp..On top of that being institutionalized for that amount of time as a 20 year old was very tough, coming home and having control over my life again was awesome and was also a little daunting! I was lucky enough to have a loving home to return to, even though my mental health had tried so very hard to push them away! Things were going so well! No self-harm, I feel pretty good. I have found a really special man. So I stop taking all my medications within 6 months of coming home from rehab. This didn't seem to be the worst idea. I still felt ok off my medications. I fell pregnant with our beautiful little girl in 2016\. Being pregnant was amazing for my general health and my mental health. I had never felt so normal, so happy! Our daughter Lucy was born 27/6/2017 we were so in love. Such a tiny little human all of our own to love and care for! How scary and amazing all at once! To say I coped well as a new mum would be a lie. I really, really struggled to build an attachment to our little girl and struggled with the fact that I need to step up for little Lucy, I am not sure I am good enough. She deserves so much better than what I can give. Slowly but surely though things snowballed out of control once more. Here I go again pushing away the people in my life that I need the most! Working became nearly impossible, living daily life seemed nearly impossible! Fast approaching mum's 21st anniversary and the year that I out live her, I just fell apart. Nothing made sense. How can I be a mother when I just out lived mine? Why do I deserve to live any longer? My mind raced day in day out. Can I keep going? It caused my anxiety to peak to a point where it caused my mind to switch to auto pilot and take control for me because my head once more. I could not handle anything, not even basic life. This happened when I drank but i have not been drinking heavily since leaving rehab 7 years ago. I could count the amount of drinks I had had in that time on one hand. So why am I blacking out again? This is scary, I have an 18month old. I am not well enough to be her mum right now. So, with a lot of love and support from my partner, we decided it was safest for me to be admitted for extra help. This was in late 2018, not long before Christmas. I stayed away from my baby and my life for another week. That was one extremely difficult week but it helped me realise how much I do love my little girl. It made me realise that if I stop taking my medications that were WORKING then everything will fall apart and I will end up heading back to where I started. It also made me realise that it is ok to fall apart sometimes but build up supports and not push them away. We are all trying our hardest and sometimes we just can't keep up. My story is ongoing from here, a daily battle that I am slowly learning to manage and cope with better. All my supports are my foundation to staying strong. I must remember to keep these people close.

My story begin in 2011 when I was 19 years old I met a guy I thought was great although there were many red flags I didn't notice or was blind to them, six months into the relationship I was pregnant with our first child and that is when the physical abuse started which included hitting, kicking, choking and sexual abuse, I was isolated from my friends and I did my best to hide it from my family - on my due date I was choked that badly I passed out and was kicked in the legs and stomach multiple times- I did luckily have a healthy baby a week later, the abuse continued after the birth the worst of it was my lips being pulled apart to the point it tore all the skin and my lips are now permanently scared - the pain was worse then any beating and at that point I called the police - he was jailed for 6 months but upon his release I believed or fell for his lies that he had changed and let him into my life again, through assault I had another pregnancy and luckily another healthy baby - when I had my 2nd child while in hospital this man emptied my bank account and my oldest child's account which destroyed me but still I stayed, the abuse continued and the beatings got extreme when he started using the drug ice resulting in wrist injuries and injuries in my mouth which I will have for the rest of my life, the final straw was when he put a knife to my throat and was pushing it against me and punching me in the stomach and he threatened to burn my children alive, that night I was one of the lucky ones and was able to get to the police - he was jailed for close to two years within that time my father passed away and I knew I had to fully leave which took so much strength, upon his release I was stalked and had my house broken into and my photos stolen he was jailed again, It happened for three years. I'm publicly sharing my story in the hope other women or men get out before its to late it took my father dying for me to gain the strength my mother had just buried my father she did not need to bury her daughter which she feared daily, people ask why I didn't leave- I feared shame and was scared he would hurt my family or friends, I now suffer PTSD (Post traumatic Stress Disorder) and night terrors but with help I cope well and my children are safe and loved Once a victim, always a survivor

Depression has effected me since year 6, the swallowing feelings have come and gone. Events throughout my life have caused it to build up like the tragic car accident at that age which triggered the depression. The person who lost their life was a positive male role model in my life and I started self harm from the age of 12 after the traumatic funeral. Hiding sharp objects and cuts on my arms and wrists from my mum and dad wasn’t really emotionally present. Age 13 starting high school, a completely different dynamic, making new friends and coming into a new town meant I only had one close friend at the time. Girls that I thought were friends; stabbed me in the back not literally just school yard bullies that ridiculed me for being different. I was going through hormonal changes and rarely got along with my dad. What I really needed was a positive role model who would understand my scenario and the feelings that I was going through but coming home there would just be explosive arguments, physical and emotional abuse, which made home life difficult. To have someone there to care about me would of helped with my depression but I felt there was no one to help which seemed like I was on my own. No one to talk to or feel comfortable to freely expressing my emotions and feelings. The physical and emotional abuse I suffered over the next 3 years impacted me negatively to the point of developing anxiety and PTSD. When i was pushed to run away from home at age 14. I hadn't seen any of my friends in weeks after a family holiday and wanted to sleep over at a friends house which lead to an argument with my mum. When i walked out the front door my dad told me "good don''t fucking come back". My heart sank and I began running, tears streaming down my face thinking they don't want me in there life. I stayed at a friends house that night and the following afternoon the police arrived, my friends told me I had to go. I had half a mind telling me to run and jump over the back fence and never look back. Out the front Dad instantly told me to get in the car. The events that followed when I returned home that day were brutal, a kick up the ass whilst walking up the stairs being told to go to my room. Several blows to the stomach in the bedroom I still live in, whilst my mother stood and watched, followed by being told "if you ever do that again ill kill you". I was told I was grounded for five months and so with that I hurt and I cried and I shut myself in my room. Being forced to eat dinner at the family table as if nothing had happened and I didn't have sore guts and despise the pair of them. I would walk to and from school everyday without ever spending extra time outside with friends for months. I wasn't even allowed to return back to my casual job, let alone call them to tell them I cannot work anymore. At the age of 15 I met my first boyfriend. I finally had a good reason to ask to leave the house on the weekend. After he broke up with me I sent him a message on Facebook and his new girlfriend started to bully me at school. Getting pushed and shoved and told i'm a slut and to stay away from him. Several incidences happened along these lines where I was unknowingly stepping on toes and I got punched in the face on school grounds and bashed on my way home from school. I no longer felt safe at home or at school and felt even more alone then I already was. Years of untreated stress, anxiety and depression went by and I began to have outburst of anger, when my mum asked me if I needed professional help. From here I saw my first psychologist and when I started a new relationship I stopped therapy, i thought I was happy. After we broke up years later, at the age of 18, my life began to spiral out of control with reckless lovers and substance abuse I was constantly trying to escape my hurtful reality and running from a traumatic home where my feelings were constantly invalidated and ridiculed for being overly emotional. At this point I went back into therapy where I was diagnosed but not treated for Borderline Personality Disorder. I wasn't told a lot about my condition and how to cope let alone be medicated for it. More years went by of whirl-wind relationships running from one abusive guy to the next suffering from severe malnutrition, several concussions, emergency hand surgery and a car accident and I still couldn't control my own anger. I started to self harm again with serious suicidal tendances. In 2018 at age 22 I had my first admission to the psychiatric ward due to fibromyalgia, severe stress and adrenal fatigue. My boyfriend at the time left me alone the night after I was released and once again feeling abandoned I tried to take my own life. An ambulance was called and I went straight back to hospital for yet another month of therapy. Here Is where my healing journey finally begun. I got the right medication, treatment and learnt how to cope with my condition. Several admissions later and I'm still getting stronger, battling addiction and suicidal thoughts. Today I have forgiven those who have done wrong by me however I'm still haunted by PSTD and manic urges. My parents are now my biggest supporters and although home life is still difficult its getting better with time and communication. I have a wonderful psychologist through victim services who treats me whilst I go through Dialectical Behavioral Therapy which I am lucky enough to receive through a private hospital. And I finally found a guy I actually like and can take my time with, who treats me with respect and the only pain he causes me is my cheeks when I smile. The words I couldn’t say; Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery, Today is a Gift that’s why it’s called Present. “Uncle George has passed away” Age 7

When I first met him he was very charming. First came the isolation from friends and family. Then came the control. Then the belittling and gaslighting. Last came the physical violence. By the end of our relationship I was not allowed to eat dinners, not allowed to sleep more than a few hours a night, not allowed to shower or bath for more than a few minutes. I’d had blood flicked deliberately across my face, he’d threatened to throttle me if I cleared my throat, he’d used his forearm against the side of my head to body slam me into a wall and pointed a loaded rifle at me and threatened to blow my leg off. When I finally managed to gather together what was left of myself and leave him, I reported the abuse to the police. The first time I tried, the policeman was dismissive. “So, he didn’t actually assault you?”. Yes he did. “No, I mean, you weren’t actually hurt.” I was bruised, terrified and traumatised. Isn’t that hurt enough? The second time I reported it I went to a different station and the policeman took the complaint seriously. He was charged with 11 offences. He paid the best criminal barrister in the city $50,000. I was cross examined for 6 hours. The prosecutor did her best, but she was clearly unfamiliar with the facts, didn’t ask the questions she should have, didn’t put the material in front of the judge. Why not? I assume because she was overworked. I know that she didn’t put one tenth of the hours into the matter that his lawyers did. How could she? She does hundreds of these cases every year. He was found not guilty and the AVO was dropped. It is my understanding that his firearms were returned to him. The legal system was as traumatic for me as the abuse. It put my recovery back months. I refuse to be silenced. I know what he did. I was there. The judge was not. I am a survivor.

My name is Shelby Grace Holland, and I am an 18-year-old, year 12 student. In 2013 (age 12), I started having intense stomach pain that nobody could find a cause for. I visited doctors for years and had many tests before they found the cause. When I was 13, I found the self-harm Tumblr and Instagram pages and became obsessed. Towards the end of the year, I started to self-harm, and it became something like an addiction. I developed depression at this time and anxiety from trying to hide the cuts on my legs. I had my first relationship at the end of that year, and we both weren’t ready for it. We both were immature, didn’t know how to properly coexist together, and I was selfishly paranoid, but this did eventually cease my self harming. For two and a half years, we both stayed in an unhealthy and unhappy relationship until he made the call in April 2017. 2017 was both my best and worst year. I met people that would go on to be some of my closest friends, I rejoined the theatre (something I hadn’t done in years), started going to church and grew closer and closer to my best friend. My downfall came during the winter of that year when I was sexually assaulted by someone I had known for years in a place that was meant to be considered safe. I reported this to the police but took no further action, scared that a court case would only make things worse. I spiraled downwards during that time and took a term off of school. Rumors circulated about why I had left, which made me scared to go back to school. I eventually returned sometime during term 4. During term 4, I was indecently assaulted by the same person, but I dealt with it better this time, not wanting to repeat the cycle of the previous term and stayed at school. I changed schools in year 11, in a way to refresh myself and start again. I didn’t realize that my depression and anxiety had increased and formed into PTSD, which then manifested in the form of depersonalization. During 2018 I spent a week in the mental health ward, where I was finally put on anti-depressants, and I was forced to see a psychologist (something I had refused to do beforehand). At the end of the year, I was diagnosed with Endometriosis. Which explained my mood changes (due to the extra hormones) and the pain I had been dealing with since I was younger. I had surgery at the start of this year to remove it. Throughout the years, there have been three people who have stuck by me. My current boyfriend, who I started dating in 2018 who has helped and supported me with all his patience and love. My best friend who was there for me during everything that has happened and who has tirelessly cared for me and made sure I’m alright, and my mother who has spent all of her time, effort and money to try and make me better and has only ever done what’s right for me, even if I don’t agree with it at the time.

I have had to overcome several different types of abuses in my lifetime. I guess it all started when I was two years old. When you think of parents you think of love, kindness and protectors. My biological parents were far from these. My biological parents were heartless, loveless, drugged up monsters. It was believed that sexual assault was involved but was never proven. But what was proven was severe neglect. If it was not for my great aunt (Nan) I would most likely not be here today to tell my story. Having this past childhood has left me judging everything (and I mean everything) I do in my life now. Has me questioning me in general. Why was I not good enough? Why am I not normal enough to have a normal family life? Did I do something wrong? My life did get happier for quiet a few years. Nan took us kids in and gave us a great childhood. Gave us beautiful clothes, so many toys, laughs, memories. She threatened us right. She loved us. But something went wrong when I hit the age of 13\. It was like I could never do anything right in my Nan's eyes. It started off small, arguments, yelling but as years went on it would get worse. Eventually it turned into hitting, kicking, dragging by the hair, saying things that would affect my mentally. It became that bad that I feared waking up.it became that bad the only time I was happy was when I was at school. This made me wish that I was dead. Made me feel like I wasn’t loved. Made me feel so alone. I took an overdose one day at school. But it just made very sick to the point the school took me to the hospital. (they didn’t know I took anything) but as soon as I got home, I got in trouble because the school didn’t call nan before taking me. She soon found out about the overdose and kept my tablets under close watch. I ran away lot long after this. We had another bad fight. I went to a friend’s house. Her parents took me to the police station, and I told them what was happening. The police called nan down to the station. They believed her that I was a “troubled child”. They told me I was to start respecting nan and not to make false stories to them again. That’s were my trust for everyone vanished. A couple years past and nothing changed. Everything was still the same. One day nan pricked my finger and drew one drop of blood. She said that drop of blood was all that was apart of me from her and now there’s nothing. This affected me bad. Does that mean I have no family anymore? Was there anybody that loved me or wanted me? This was the day I first cut myself. Months went on with the same old same old, but it was always progressively worse each time. I was starting to black out. I would do horrible thing causing harm, but I could not and still can’t remember doing any of it. But each time there was video proof of me doing these things. I broke my nans back, I knocked two teeth out, I choked my little sister till she started to turn blue. I eventually left again. Because I had no where to go or no one to turn to I ended up spending two weeks living under the Cooma bridge. Stealing little bits of food from Coles or woollies to get me by. One day I seen a friend at the park. We spent the day together. She invited me back to her home. Her family took me in and helped me get in touch with the right people to get me set up with a place to stay, a payment from Centrelink and still focus on my schooling. During the time I was on my own nan would not allow me to contact any of the family. She found out I was messaging on of my sisters one day and she replied to my message “do not contact my family, we don’t talk to trash.” I missed my family so much. I found small ways to make contact like catching their school bus in the afternoon. I felt so alone and had trouble coping with this. On several occasions I self-harmed to try and ease this pain and it work for a moment but once the pain was gone, I was alone again. A couple months past and my nan contacted me out of the blue for the first time since I left. She took me out for breakfast. When we meet up, we both spent a lot of time apologizing for everything we had put each other through. She explained to me she was scared. She was scared I would turn out like my biological parents and she thought if she was tough on me and kept me from friends apart from school time, I wouldn’t turn out that way. Nan took me back home to the family house. I spent time with the family. Nan soon told me she was diagnosed with lung cancer. For six months after this I spent a lot of my time at the family house, I put my studies on hold and I helped look after nan. Unfortunately, nan passed away. I have no anger for my nan. I understand her intentions and I will always love and miss her very much. I do wish however that she could see that I haven’t turned out like my parents. Losing nan was hard. I took an overdose which put me in hospital for three days. I never told the doctors or anyone what I did. When I was released, I went home and I went to take another overdose, but a friend showed up, seen what was happening. He got upset and disposed of the tablets. He saved my life however introduced me into pot. Looking back now it wasn’t the best thing to do because my life became so depended on getting my high. But it was my escape. Moving forward a couple of months my brother introduced me to someone. He wasn’t someone I normally would go for. I guess I had it in my head that being with him nan would come back and get mad at me. But as time passed, I actually fell in love with him. I thought he was great. He could do no wrong. Boy was I wrong. I guess I should have known the first time he was put in jail to leave, but I stayed. It got bad 1yr after being together. At our engagement party. He got mad about something and destroyed my room by punching holes in the walls while screaming at me. But I still stayed. A few months later I found out he was cheating on me with an ex. I confronted him and he lost it at me. He grabbed me and threw me on my bed and when I went to get up, he slapped me. But I still stayed. Things sort of calmed down for a bit even though he went to jail a few more times during this time. But each time I stayed. He cheated on me again. This time was with an under 18-year-old. This resulted in him being told he wasn’t allowed back in Cooma. But I still stayed. I left my job, left my hometown and went up to him. We spent a week homeless before he was able to return to Cooma. some time went on. There were arguments, there was cheating, there was always taking money from me and if I didn’t say yes, more arguments. He ended up back in jail yet again and I found out I was pregnant. After four years of heavily using pot, this was the day I became clean. Again, I found out he cheated on me thanks to a doctors appt. when I confronted him about this, he turned it on me saying I was the cheater. That the baby wasn’t even his that I was just saying it was his. But I still stayed. When he got out things got good for a bit. But then one day we had an argument, he punched holes again and would threaten “wait till this baby is born”. This phrase was said on several occasions.

TO BE CONTINUED 

December 19th, 2015 my baby boy was born. You would think that would be my happy ending. But you are far from wrong. One night we got into a fight and he punched me causing a black eye. But I still stayed. People asked me what happened including a police officer at court, but I lied for him telling people I got drunk and fell over and hit the corner of my bed. A couple weeks later we were watching tv. He tried to have sex with me and when I pushed him away telling him I was watching this show he got mad. He smashed the tv, grabbed me and dragged me to the floor, got on top of me and choked me. I thought he was going to kill me that night. I banged the floor hoping my roommates would hear but they didn’t. I ended up kneeing his back and he jumped up and ran off. But again, I stayed. The moment that happened fear stayed in my head. I feared that if I ever said no to him again, he would kill me. This fear went on even after we had broken up, I would say no as much as I could but as soon as he started getting mad I gave up and let him do what he wanted so scared he was going to choke me to death again. Everyday there was a new hole in the wall or a new bruise. But I still stayed. One night my little sister messaged me and told me he was messaging her wanted her to come over and wanted “to do things with her”. She sent me the screen shots and as soon as I seen them that was it! I left him. But that was not the end. Even though we weren’t together he still stayed. He used that his name was on the lease still as a reason not to leave. He never paid for his share anything though. No rent, no food, no nothing. So, I went and to the real estate and removed his name from the lease, but he still wouldn’t leave. He used docs against me saying he would take our son from me because of my work schedule. I believed this and just dealt with him staying and financially abusing me. A couple months later we got into a big argument. I went to leave but he stood in front of the door. I grabbed our son and went to go into my bedroom. He got in front of me and kicked me in the stomach, I dropped breathless, he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me up and held me against the wall of the ground, I slapped him in the face and he dropped me and I ran to the bathroom and tried to lock the door but he kicked the door askew, I crawled out and ran through the house screaming for help but my roommate didn’t come. I ran out the backyard screaming for someone to help me. As I ran out of places to go, I watched him running for me and thought this is it, this is the end. I gave one final scream for help. He stopped and took off yelling about how he was going to kill me. I called several people to come and help me when he left. One person out of the many answered my call. One person came and helped me on the one day I needed someone. And even though I didn’t go to the police like she advised I will be forever grateful to her for answering that call and coming halfway across town to just be with me. One day I found out he had choked his now ex-girlfriend. That isn’t my story to tell but to this day I have and always will have guilt for this. I should have been strong and spoken up when it happened to me then she would not have suffered what I suffered. This regret has resulted in dark days and twice self-harm. I can not express how sorry I am for what he did to her. He did time for what he did to her but when he got back things were okay for a little bit but like always went right back to same old same old. Even though I got a new place he still was in my life using our son against me. I made a bad judgement resulting in a big debt with the tax department and he would use this against me. I always believed his threats. He never laid his hands on me but he always threatened to hit me, he would say things like “ you are the worst mum, you are not a mum” and he would take money from me and if I said no he would get made. Eventually I made him leave my house and he was only allowed there to watch our son while I was at work. One month ago, I went to Canberra with my family. I had locked my door as he wasn’t there and hadn’t been there for about a week. But when I came home that afternoon he was in my house and had broken in. I got mad and told him to leave. He made threats of punching me, he punched my door and while I was on the phone to the police told me he was going to kill me and then left. An AVO was put in place, I moved to a new place and I am doing a lot better. I am happier, I am financially stable for the first time in a while and I feel safe. I still have some dark moments, but my son is the light that gets me through them. My story has been a long one, but I am glad I have finally stood up and told it. I want people to know that no matter where you come from does not mean you will have the same path. That no matter how scared you are never be afraid to speak up. You will not only make your life better you could be protecting some one else going through the same pain and heartache. Thankyou for reading my story and remember its okay to not be okay.

A Whole Generation Of Girls Got To See The Sky 

The fall of Afghanistan this week has occurred 12 years after my last tour, a month since we mourned the lost of Ben Ranaudo to an IED blast on operations and nearly to the day that a suicide bomber detonated the IED Vest he was wearing in a marketplace in the Chora Valley.

The target that day was an Afghan Army Patrol.

The result was the death of not only a number Afghan Soldiers, but of many innocent Civilian Children, Women and Men.

On that day in FOB Mirwais, a small team of Coalition and ANA Soldiers triaged, treated, and evacuated over a dozen of the critically injured.

To say there is a lot of emotion right now not only for myself but for Veterans of the War in Afghanistan is a major understatement.

So here are my here are my thoughts on the unfolding situation in Afghanistan.

Our efforts were not in vain. Our service in Afghanistan made a difference to the Afghanis that we met with, talked to, mentored, treated and fought with.

I spoke with a good friend a couple of days ago about if we really made a difference. He explained that we can tell that we did make a difference because of our impact on the lives of those we encountered.

As individuals and small teams, our impact on the ground helped to shape the lives of those whom we encountered, the kids we played with, the men we talked to and the ill and injured that we treated.

Did our Battlegroups make a difference? Missions may have successfully completed, there may have been medals handed out and cucumber sandwiches eaten, but was a lasting impact made? Did the Australian “Whole of Government” commitment have lasting impact? I don't know.

 During our chat, my friend reminded me of the peace achieved in Timor Leste that began with the Australian led INTERFET Mission in 1999. When unrest flared up in 2006, Australian Troops redeployed and since then, Timor Leste has seen a lasting peace and prosperity of their own making.

Did we think we were successful in Timor Leste as troops began to drawdown in 2004/05? Did we think it was all for nothing in 2006 when the situation deteriorated, and troops again deployed due to growing instability?

We don’t know if steps taken in Afghanistan on an (Australian) government level have or will make a lasting impact, but I honestly believe in the lasting impact that we as individuals and small teams have made.

 Another friend said we can be proud of our efforts in Afghanistan because an entire generation of girls got to see the sky.

These girls have grown up with freedoms that their mothers never knew.

Don't forget that there has also been a generation of boys who have grown up with women being educated, in the workforce, in public life and in politics.

 I believe we can stand proud of what we, those who’s boots were on the ground in Afghanistan managed to achieve.

Our mission has long been over.

With the Coalition Forces no longer deployed on combat operations in Afghanistan and with the Afghanistan Army shattered before the rolling wave of Taliban forces, it is the Generation who grew up in the sun know most how much they have to lose.

It is now up to the People of Afghanistan to take up the fight for their lasting freedom.

Before I start, this is something absolutely major for me to share. Those who are close to me know just how hard this is for me, especially in this town. I know my story is one many of the town would have heard by now.. but it’s highly likely the facts are incorrect. And of course, this will probably upset a few people. I apologies for it being so long, I’ve even cut some things out to shorten it.. But here it is. This is MY STORY. End of 2006, beginning of 2007 is the time my world came crashing down, the year when I discovered that what my eleven year old self thought may have been ‘normal’, was no where near it. A small safety class that was held at my primary school bought knowledge to me that what was happening, wasn’t ok. At that moment, I burst into tears. I was stopped on my way back to my classroom by our principal who had told me if I needed to talk to her to come down and speak to her during lunch. After telling 3 of my close friends at the time we all decided to go to her office so I could speak up. I remember this day like it just happened.. those words that left my mouth ‘he touched me’... After briefly explaining to my principle what had happened.. she organised an interview with a police officer and a DOCS worker for that Friday. At this time, no one in my family knew.. I hadn’t told a soul except those 3 friends and my principal. I went to the interview, crying In fear at the words ‘Queanbeyan police’ I sat there for the remaining of my school day telling them what had happened.. being eleven years old I was terrified, not only did I come to acknowledge that it wasn’t normal, I am now attempting to tell strangers about it. Being so young and so scared I froze and didn’t disclose the whole truth.. only apart of it. As a result of that they declared it as ‘accidental’ and that the program had ‘put the wrong idea in my head’.. they had notified my family, and with such little proof and the fact I didn’t speak the whole truth, nothing was done. It’s not that I wasn’t believed by my family, it’s just something that was so hard to take in, a child saying something happened yet people from the professional legal side saying it’s accidental made things hard.. at this time though, I had felt like I wasn’t believed, but that’s my doing. For quite some time after, he continued to be in my life. Though this form of abuse had stopped, going anywhere with this man had me at panic. Come to high school , at the age of 13 or 14 another person came forward about something similar, with the same person. I began to get bullied, started off as normal every day bullying of name calling etc. as the time went on, an investigation was formed, I began to self harm.. when people around the school began to find out I had self harmed, the bullying continued, except this time, it was worse.. it went from the typical name calling to ‘your just an attention seeker’, ‘your a suicidal freak’, ‘do it properly next time’.. I could go on.. some people even went as far to tell me to kill my self.. little did any of these people know what had happened in the past, or that there was an investigation happening in the quiet.. I began to smoke cigarettes, even started smoking on the school premises, I started wagging school, I became extremely troubled.. again the bullying continued.. I was called ‘a dreg’, ‘a feral’, ‘a no hoper’. That was when I began to lose myself. I left school at the end of year 9, did distance education for year 10. I started dating a guy who was 5 years older than me... that relationship became violent.. I lost everyone around me, my friends, I pushed my family away.. I stayed with him for just over 2 years. I hid bruises I had on my arms, continued to self harm, I couldn’t even recognise who I was when I looked in the mirror.. I wasn’t this happy young girl who was carefree anymore. I wasn’t me. It got to the point where I snapped, i lost it at him at his work, police were called and when they came to my house, I wanted to kill my self. I don’t remember anything of this, just what I have been told by family. The police called an ambulance and from there I was taken to hospital on suicide watch, I had fresh cuts on my arm and they had asked me so many questions. I didn’t sleep that night. I remember watching the sun rise. Come to when I was 16 years old, I finally went to the police, I opened up and spoke the whole truth of the assault I went through at 11 years old. It took me so many try’s to write an entire statement.. but with the help of family and my councilor (forever grateful for that woman!) I pushed through it. I did it, I told someone about what I had endured at a young age.. I felt like a whole weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Shortly after this I had broken it off with my boyfriend after I found he had been cheating.. I broke free from two things I had been hiding and holding onto. I began partying, drinking a lot, I was still severely depressed. I’m not entirely sure I remember a day where I didn’t drink.. I was once again put into hospital on suicide watch at one point. Early 2015 I had found out I was pregnant with my son, again another shitty situation as I was told lies, I was convinced that things I was being told about this guy weren’t true. How stupid was I? I had once again allowed myself to be manipulated by another guy, I began to be called a home wrecker, a slut etc. but everyone was so quick to judge without asking. Deep down I think I knew, but every time I bought up the situation with this guy, he continued to tell me different.. and I believed him. He ran off as soon as I told him I was pregnant. I was so severely depressed that at the time I didn’t think I could live on this earth anymore, I wanted to end it all... after many many days of arguing with myself in my head something inside me snapped. I realised that I was growing a little human inside me, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, I can’t keep feeling like this. I pulled myself out of that deep hole I was in. My son truely saved my life. When I was about 9-11 weeks pregnant I went through the trial, I didn’t have the strength to stand in the same court room as this person so I was on CCTV. I listened to the tape of when I was 11 years old.. how scared and innocent I sounded, I was absolutely destroyed. But I pushed through. I had to do this. And at the end, the jury came back with a GUILTY verdict! How over the moon I was!! I felt amazing! I felt relieved, like I had made a huge difference! Strangers heard my story and BELIEVED ME! Come around two years later he appealed.. he was granted the appeal on the ground of an ‘unfair’ trial, the judge had sentenced him with the rules of now, not when I was 11 years old. So again, he was free.. walking around the same town I was. My paranoia came back, my deep depression came back, my anxiety and yes, even at times my self harm.. the suicidal thoughts. But how can I do this? How can I feel like this with with an absolutely amazing child who loves me with everything he has? I wish I could tell you, even though I was losing myself again, my child is still what kept me going. There were times where when he went to bed, id sit in the bathroom and cry.. Even though I had a new partner who loved my son like his own, who was patient with me, I was still losing myself. Neither of them understood which then lead me to break down, my relationship was going down with me.. January 2018 I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I was over the moon but also scared as my relationship was breaking apart before my eyes. I had the re-trial coming up and I was such an emotional wreck. I proceeded through the retrial, and as I was preparing myself to once again give my evidence I was called in, turned out that he decided to plead guilty! Again I felt relief! I felt like I had won once again, that I was believed for a second time. Although that was amazing, my relationship still wasn’t.. things became very horrible. The anger on both sides was terrifying, the emotional abuse was very real, I was once again in a bad place. Depression and suicidal thoughts came flooding back again as our relationship turned physical, verbal, unhealthy. Everyday was an argument, none of it was good. May 2018 he left.. he left us. I blamed myself for months, I cried for months, I was arguing with myself on whether I can have another child on my own, whether this child deserved to be bought up in this. I was deciding on whether I should keep the baby or adopt out. I was again on my own, but this time pregnant and with a toddler.. not only was I feeling abandoned but the emotional stress it caused my son has and still is destroying me. Every night he cried for my ex partner, everyday he would ask me for ‘daddy’.. I couldn’t help but blame myself. How could I do this to my son? How could I allow a man in his life, allow him to get so emotionally attached? Allow him to call him dad? Neither of us pushed the whole dad calling either, my son came out with it and it just stuck. For the remainder of my pregnancy it was a constant battles with trying to heal myself as well as my son. I felt like I’d failed as a mother, two males walked out away from us. And that’s my fault, the fear that one day my son Will think it’s his fault hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Come the day I fell into labour with my daughter, my ex partner showed for the birth. When my son came to visit his baby sister, the look on his little face when he saw the guy he called dad for the first time in 6 months was a mixture of sadness, confusion and anger. Still to this day, I am battling every emotion possible regarding my past. Especially with my children. My son most of all as he is still emotionally struggling.. I still blame myself, I still hate myself, I hate the fact my son is effected by the choice I MADE. Although things with my ex partner are slowly getting better, it won’t ever change what I have gone through regarding the kids.. It won’t ever change the damage it has caused both myself and my son. 2019 was the year my life FINALLY started to look up. My ex and I managed to move forward in a civil way. He started to become involved in my kids lives. Including my son. Even though the emotional damage was caused in the process of our break up, my ex decided to take on my son and include him. July 2019. I met someone. At the time I was extremely weary. After all I had just gone through so much regarding myself and my children with the last relationship I had been in. The more we talked the more we realised we had in common. In august 2019 he had asked if I wanted to date him. I said yes. From then on our relationship has been full of support and growth on both sides. My little family of 3 extended to a little family of 6. With my two children and his two. I couldn’t be more grateful. July 2020. The male who caused so much damage to my life was due for parole.. yep that’s right.. he was about to walk free once again! He was granted parole. I had put in a submission with what I saw fit for him upon release. And to my surprise, it was agreed. Although he is a free man, he isn’t allowed in the Cooma-Monaro area. Nor is he allowed in Queanbeyan or Eurobodalla areas. He has an ankle monitor for the period of his parole (just under 3 years), isn’t allowed contact with anyone under the age of 16 without approval, nor is he allowed in the presence of them without approval by the parole board. So all those extra conditions ontop of the standard parole conditions. Of course I don’t think it’s ok that after just over 4 years this person can live his life back in the community. Why should he be allowed to continue on while I suffer a life long sentence of trauma? Well, I didn’t have a choice in that matter. So the only thing I could do was put in that submission. Of course all those past emotions once again came flooding back, my mind began to fight with itself again, I became depressed once again. To the point I had to change medication (what a ride that was!). But the difference from back then to now is I refuse to hide my past. I have the support of so many people who I am beyond grateful for! I am stronger, I’m not a little girl who is afraid anymore. I AM A SURVIVOR. My life from then to now has been a huge roller coaster of ups and down. In fact, you wouldn’t believe the amount of people who STILL throw ridiculous statements at me regarding the assault I went through, attempting to hurt me, make me react. They fail to realise that part of me began to heal a long time ago. I know the truth, that’s all that matters. But you know what? EVERYTHING I have been through has shaped me into the person I am today. Do I hate what happened to me? OF COURSE! But it gave me an insight to just how easy sexual assault can happen, it gave me knowledge of mental health, of sexual assault, even the justice system. I've healed enough to hold no grudge against those who bullied me, those who put me down, those who told me to kill myself. Many people see me day to day and have absolutely no idea. Sexual abuse is more common than you think, depression effects more people than you’d think. Domestic abuse and violence is also extremely common. Sometimes those who smile the biggest smile and laugh the loudest laugh, are battling something everyday and you just don’t know. If you’ve suffered any form of abuse, you’re not alone. And I hope that telling my story may even help those who are going through, or have been through similar. You may feel lost, you may feel scared. But Your story doesn’t have to be kept a secret, your story doesn’t have to end. Because I BELIEVE YOU