Week 5

All photos taken by me in Australia

“Broken people blossom into warriors”

Welcome to week 5.


If you’re new to reading my blog please take the time to read from week 1 so it all makes sense to you.


I know the last couple of weeks have been downers but you have to remember, this was my life for the first 21 years. It wasn’t easy. I was on struggle street. But when I get knocked down I always get back up.

This week is more of an in between phase in my life where I actually found connections.


If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my history of abuse and mental health it’s that I kept fighting even when I thought I lost.


I hope that me telling my story helps others. Once I’m finished, I’ll cover similar topics but for now, please listen.

Please feel what I felt and recognise that abuse affects people in all forms and at all ages. The same goes for mental health.


OK carrying on from week 4.


I finally got my big break. I got a chance, even if it were just for a moment, to leave that small town and get a gig in a big city. My family wanted me to get out. They hoped it would make me change. I actually hoped it would too.


I started modelling. I was basically a clothes hanger for designers and a canvas for photographers. I was anorexic, tall with dark olive skin and long hair. I didn’t mind, but I also chose not to keep any photos or videos because I hated my face and body and hated the thought of others looking at me. So why did I choose to model? God only knows. It was good money and I guess I wanted to prove to those small-minded small-town jerks that I’m better than them and they’re harsh words.


It was hard adjusting because I didn’t really get along with any of the girls I worked with. They were all city girls cashed up buying Tony Bianco’s in their lunch breaks and I was splitting my lunches in half just so I had something for dinner. Plus their attitudes were different to mine. They had the ‘I’m better than you and I know it’ attitude and I was an insecure, angry teen with a ‘I don’t give a f*ck’ attitude. So it’s no surprise that I almost always came to blows with these girls.

Then I finally met my unicorn. The girl who was different from the rest. She was quiet but kind. She also came from a country town. She had big dreams of becoming a famous model and fashion designer. She was beautiful in every way possible. For this chapter I’ll call her FB.
FB knew I didn’t come from money so she would often shout me lunches and dinners. Take me around the city to explore and just have a good time. We would have long deep chats about life and our culture. When it came to talking about sexuality, I was very open about my sexual and romantic relationships with women. If you can’t be open in the city then where can you be, right? She told me she’s never been with a girl but would like to.

Mate, if ever there was an opportunity to punch above my weight and show a straight girl the world of lesbianism now was the time!
I welcomed her to try it and she accepted. After that our relationship grew stronger. I supported her in her work as she did mine. We were inseparable. Any time I was anxious and had angry outbursts she’d be straight there to help out. She was older than me and much wiser. She took care of my needs and I did hers. I mean that in a physical and emotional sense.

I got into an altercation with one of the girls before we got onto the runway so my time ended in the city. No one wants to hire a violent girl, even though I didn’t start the fight I certainly finished it.

FB stayed in the city while I moved back home. It didn’t seem right to keep a relationship going so we ended on good terms and still spoke often from morning to night. She showed me that people can care for you and show love. The city showed me that I could be myself and love women openly the way I craved to. It was a valuable lesson learnt.

Back to small-town small-minded bullshit. I wish I could get away from here.
My mental health deteriorated again. My hypomania was much worse as well as my self harm. I would be on video chats cutting myself open or taking pills. Riding highs and fighting back with my family. Feeling the lows and wondering why God put me on this earth.
I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. I felt like if I died it would be a blessing for others. I didn’t want to feel the pain of my trauma or mental health any longer.

FB was my saving grace through the dark times. She put light in my life. But I needed to be able to communicate with at least 1 person in the flesh.

It was hard being a loner stuck at home and only leaving the house to work or see a mental health professional.

I made a decision. I made a choice that would protect my family from the shit people in the streets of our high crime area were doing and protect myself from the rumours.

I reached out to a couple of girls I grew up with and in high school that came from rough families. They were all into cigarettes, alcohol and weed so I tried my best to fit in.

I was skinny as hell from my eating disorder but I always put up a fight so I started to fit in well with this group.

It felt like a nice little thug family. Girls and guys that were rough and violent as hell making sure no one messes with them.
My family and I were safe. A feeling that brought me ease.
They were supportive of my mental health and any time I was admitted into hospital for a suicide attempt they would always visit. And every time I got out of hospital we would celebrate with alcohol and weed. Mind you I couldn’t handle weed but the alcohol was nice.

All of my friends came from an abusive background like I did so we all supported each other and cared. I finally felt a part of something.

Looking from the outside in you’d call us hood rats, juvenile delinquents, deros, ferals… We didn’t care what you called us; we were outsiders finding our place in the world.

Then more people were transferred to housing commission from other towns and they wanted to mark their territory. I thought the crime rate in our area was high but they made it much worse.

Stealing guns, burning down houses, multiple stabbings and murders. It was a whole new ball game and once again, my family wasn’t safe. So I had to make a rash decision to help them.

I’ll tell you all about it next week.

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