By the end of year seven, I was starting to realise just how different my father was from those of my friends. He rarely worked in a conventional setting, and I had never known him to have a full-time job. Thinking back, I am not sure if he had ever held down full-time employment in his life. I only remember him working here and there, helping his friends with basic labouring or graphic design work. That, and the drug dealing...
Read MoreI always knew that my dad was an addict, but it took me a while to truly understand the difference between my dad and my friends’ dads. However, as I moved from primary school into high school, the differences became more and more apparent.
One of my close friend’s father was a truck driver who drove semitrailers interstate on a regular basis. I remember this friend complaining about how his father was often not at home for long periods, but when he returned they would go to the football or play at the park.
Read MoreI realised just how bad Dad's living conditions were about a year after his death. I was talking to a cousin of mine who had recently become a police officer. It’s not often that you get a chance to have a firsthand glimpse into the seedy underbelly of the society you live in. So I jumped at the opportunity, asking for recounts of some of her more memorable highlights on the job.
After describing some interesting car chases and instances in which she had to draw her weapon, she began describing a case where she was called to a disturbance at house in a fairly shady area. The neighbours had heard a questionable noise and were concerned enough to inform the police. My cousin was the one who answered the call and arrived with her partner at the scene.
Read More“Your Attention Please: No one is coming to save you. This life of yours is 100% your responsibility.” - Anonymous
What can you do right now to change your life? This chapter will get you started.
Read MoreIt wasn’t until I tried writing that I saw major improvements as a direct result of treatment.
Unlike talking therapy, I found that I could express myself far more freely onto a blank page. When I sat down to write, I didn’t have to worry about what the page thought of me. It can’t judge. I could ramble, reiterate and back track without concern for transmitting understanding to someone else.
