Hi, I’m Alex. This is very hard to write.

I grew up in a violent and emotionally abusive household. My mother constantly screamed at me, humiliated me, hit me, and said things like:

“You worthless thing, I should’ve strangled you when you were born.”

She told me she wasn’t my mother. She cursed at me. Sometimes she would fly into such terrifying rages that I thought she might kill me. My father, though less violent, watched and did nothing.

I spent my childhood in fear — fear of being yelled at, hit, humiliated. I learned to be silent, to please others, to disappear. That fear never left. Now in adulthood, I’ve been diagnosed with Complex PTSD and major depression. The flashbacks, the panic, the feeling of being utterly worthless… they follow me every day.

I moved back to Sydney from New York, hoping to restart. But things collapsed again. I’m not functioning. I can barely leave the house. I smoke, drink, isolate. My Uber job, once my lifeline, now feels unreachable because some days my body simply won’t move.

I’ve been alone for months. Sometimes I lie in bed all day, dissociated, crying, or empty. I’ve skipped meals. I haven’t been able to cover rent or bills. And yes, I’ve had moments of thinking it might be easier to stop living altogether — not because I want to die, but because I don’t know how to keep going.

I’m sharing all this not for pity, but because I want to be honest. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to live after a childhood like that — this is it.

I need help. I’m asking for support so I don’t fall even further:

• Rent and bills;

• Medication and GP visits;

• A little breathing space so I don’t crash again.

If you can donate anything, I’m deeply grateful. If you can’t, please just share this.

Maybe someone out there will hear me.

— Alex