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...

I 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.

A quick review of our past reveals many moments of joy and positivity; times when things just worked. When a failure came, it did not break us. We picked ourselves back up, learnt a lesson, and pushed forward. Similarly, we can look back and see expanses of misery and suffering. Times where we were down and out, at rock bottom and struggling. There were occasional wins, yet these barely succeeded in moving the needle.

Some I know of and actively avoid. Others blindside me. Some are specific, only occurring around a particular person or situation. Others are global and will without fail impact me anywhere and everywhere.

It can be a look, a smell, a touch. Anything.

As a young child, I was sexually assaulted. As a grown man, I openly talk about it.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I first decided to share my story with the world. Talking about sexual assault is widely considered a taboo subject. There is a tremendous amount of stigma, harsh judgement and disinformation …