The Testimony
An anonymous guest article
Our stories are unique to us, similar to some, but different to most, and by sharing more stories of struggle from within our community, we’re speaking to more people. This week’s Rag demonstrates the value religion had for someone in their time of struggle.
If you have a story of struggle that you’d like to share… whatever it is… we want to hear it. Your perspective is different to ours, you can speak to people we can’t, it will help us build out the picture of what a suicide-free Canberra looks like… and it could help someone in their time of need.
To share your story, please email hello@runningforresilience.com
Before we get started
The Testimony
An anonymous guest article
I’m the seventh of eight children born on the 14th September 1988, The Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. I grew up in a small coastal town called Eden in NSW, Australia, where Dad and Mum had moved my family from Gymea Bay in Sydney on Easter Sunday 1988; while I was still in Mum’s womb.
My parents are devout Catholics so we would pray the rosary each night and attend Mass every weekend, yet despite this I found a few things about the Catholic faith difficult to grasp, namely the true presence of Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. Nonetheless, I still believed in God and prayed each night before going to bed as well.
I loved sport growing up and had a knack for it, namely cricket, which was my favourite above all others. Cricket quickly became my life and from a very young age all I wanted to do was play cricket for Australia, so much so that it became my sole goal, at least that was until I attended a prestigious boarding school in Sydney: St. Ignatius College, Riverview; a Jesuit high school in which my five brothers also attended before me. I was the last in our family to go through.
It was here that I lost the love for playing cricket after shifting my focus more towards academia, which I didn’t particularly enjoy, however, I refused to let myself fall behind the rest of the Riverview boys in my cohort, a large portion of whom were more academically gifted than I. The misguided pressure and emphasis on the Higher School Certificate (HSC) only became apparent in hindsight. Furthermore, whether this was related or not I can’t be sure; however, it was also at Riverview that I turned away from the faith. I guess no longer being under my parents roof each night made neglecting the Mass somewhat easier.
After graduating high school I quit cricket altogether, choosing instead to focus my time on the usual things that take up a young ‘adult’s’ life in the 21st century. I had sunk so much of my personality into being a cricketer that after I quit I became lost, disgruntled and drifted around until my mid-twenties without any real purpose nor any real idea of who I was or what I wanted to do. I moved to Canberra and needed something to replace the void left within me, which I found in the world of finance, believing that the more money I could make, the happier I would be.
After wasting so much time in my early twenties living a life of debauchery, I finally got on with life, attending and graduating from the University of Canberra with a degree in finance, after which I became hellbent on making as much money as possible. I was so focussed on this goal that everything else was pushed to the side, including a long-time girlfriend whom I broke-up with solely to focus on myself and my career. In May 2016, after obtaining a great paying job working as an FX Broker in Queensland, I made the thirteen-hour drive north from Canberra to the Gold Coast to start the next phase of my life.
I thrived in my role as a broker and despite quickly being promoted, earning great money and basically ticking all the right boxes, there was still a deep emptiness within me that I could neither comprehend nor shake. As a result, I tried to dig my heels in even further to make more money, and after being introduced to the world of cryptocurrency by a colleague, I became fascinated and immediately addicted to the fast-paced nature of the crypto markets. Rarely did half-an-hour go by in which I didn’t check market prices. Although this began distracting me from my actual work, it proved not to be to my detriment since the crypto market was in the middle of the 2017 bull run, meaning that I was making unheard of sums of money outside of work by investing in Initial Coin Offerings (ICO’s).
This resulted in me again changing my goalposts, although not change but merely elevate them after realising that there was a hole to be filled within the Australian crypto markets that a few colleagues and I then sought to fill ourselves. Eventually, four of us quit our roles as FX brokers and established our own crypto brokerage towards the end of 2017.
Between 2017-2021, we rode the extreme highs and the even more extreme lows, taking many risks that saw the business fluctuate between making absurd amounts of money one month to being on the verge of bankruptcy the next. It was an extremely turbulent time and despite personally having more money than I ever could’ve imagined this soon after graduating university, it was simply never enough. I loved the thrill of making money but once I obtained it, I didn’t know what to do with it.
During the 2019-2021 crypto bull run, I made more lifechanging money in the millions of dollars, yet again wasn’t satisfied. I had achieved what I wanted but became exceedingly
bitter, whether at myself or the world or whatever the case may be, I wasn’t sure. I became resigned to the idea that peace of mind and joy were not on the cards for me and I just had to find a way to deal with it. Over time, I began to miss playing cricket but was too stubborn to seriously consider playing again. As someone who struggles with moderation, my all or nothing mentality far too often left me with nothing.
As a result, I then turned to drugs and gambling, my consumption of which gradually increased before escalating out of control in the early months of 2021 after our business made some errors in judgement that resulted in the public condemnation of the business.
After being internationally shamed, I fell into a destructive spiral in which I started taking heavier drugs and gambling more intensively, locking myself in my apartment for the vast majority of 2021 and first quarter of 2022; doing nothing other than taking drugs and playing online slots. Addiction had completely taken hold of me but I didn’t care. At one point during this period, for months-on-end I was wasting on average $2k-$3k per day. When things escalated even further out of control, there was a week in which I lost close to $120,000 USD, yet because I was constantly high to the point of being awake for up to five days straight, I felt completely numb to its effects, neither the supposed good nor the undeniably bad… at least for a time. Eventually, I began to interiorly coil in on myself and barely spoke to those close to me about what I was going through, becoming isolated to the point of ostracising friends and family more out of humiliation than anything else.
In the early months of 2022, my available funds were fast dwindling to the point that I was getting closer to the status of just another broke junkie. Finally, in late February 2022, I was made desolate and after losing the remainder of my money, I laid on the couch gazing hollowly at my ceiling, trying to feel something yet remaining unsure as to the true extent of what I had just done.
Suddenly, a grace came upon me: ‘You need help.’ After barely a thought about God since my last confession in 2016 shortly before moving to the Gold Coast, I got up from the couch, moved into my bedroom and made the sign of the cross, praying: ‘God, I’m sorry for the sins I have committed against you… please God… I need help;’ and left it at that.
For two weeks thereafter, I continued the drug intake, even borrowing money just so that I could keep doing it until I eventually slipped into a drug-induced psychosis. Despite there being signs of impending doom prior to this, I ignored them, which, in the moment, made it appear as though it came upon me suddenly; almost as though something entered my body and sent my senses into overdrive as they seemingly detached from one another.
The entire psychosis was like a prolonged panic attack that lasted days with only short reprieves that barely gave me enough time to regain my breath for the next onslaught of anxiety. There was something inexplicably sinister about this psychosis in which it genuinely appeared as though some sort of veil was pulled down that gave me a completely different perspective of the world. Everything appeared corrupted and everybody I came across looked as though they wanted to destroy me… upon seeing this, the feeling was reciprocated out of fear. It was hell on earth to the point that I sought refuge at my sister’s house not too far away where I broke down in a frenzy, adamant with a sudden and strong sense that I was about to be condemned to hell for all eternity. She had no idea I had been doing drugs at all, nor that the business had gone under because I refused to tell anyone this truth to avoid the risk of further humiliation.
Eventually, I contacted my parents and with concern they advised it was best if I came home for a while, to which I reluctantly agreed. Still in a state of psychosis, I set out to make the long drive from the Gold Coast to Eden, stopping only for petrol and caffeine. In the earliest hours of the morning, I was only three hours from home as I past the southside of Canberra, however, something occurred and I realised that I could not return home in this state; I simply wasn’t ready. Not knowing what to do, I turned around and started heading back after becoming spontaneously convinced that I needed to return to the Gold Coast.
Eventually, after only having a few hours’ sleep over the course of the previous week, I was utterly exhausted and as I drove past Lake George 30km north of Canberra, it was as though something grabbed my steering wheel and forcefully veered my car across the highway into the Major Badcoe VC Rest Area, where I eventually fell asleep in my car, using scrunched-up clothes as a pillow and a towel as a blanket.
After waking a few hours later, I knew I needed help, so I again drove back into Canberra, this time to my brother’s house before he then led me to the Mental Health Unit (MHU) at Woden Hospital, where I would spend the next few days.
By now, my entire family knew what was happening without knowing how it got to this, all of whom were concerned that I was about to end my life. After Mum and Dad drove up to visit me in the MHU, I couldn’t help but explain to them that I had an overwhelming dread that I was about to die. Seeing how distressed I was, the concerned parent she is, Mum went back to where they were staying that night and prayed to Our Lady: ‘Holy Mother Mary, please take my boy to Jesus.’
Two days later, without any warning from the hospital, nor my parents, nor anyone else; I was transported from Woden Hospital to Calvary Catholic Hospital over the other side of town in Bruce, which was also around the corner from where I attended university. I stayed there for almost two weeks, during which I again turned my mind to God, remembering the sacrament of confession before being filled with a powerful desire to go.
For days the doctors ran their tests and monitored my behaviour before concluding that I was clear of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, which meant that I was okay to leave the premises on day release with my parents. After telling Dad that I needed to go to confession, he and Mum took me to Mass at Holy Rosary Church in Watson, however, once there I couldn’t bring myself to actually enter the confessional. I had missed my chance as the Mass commenced shortly thereafter.
During Mass, my mind was still trying to pick up the pieces as I stared at the crucifix behind the alter, wondering how I got here. Suddenly, the priest announced the Gospel: ‘A reading from the gospel according to Saint Luke’, he said before continuing: ‘…And he said, there was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me…’’
As the priest continued reading, I looked to the printout of the readings and was struck by the title: ‘The Parable of the Prodigal Son.’ By the grace of God, the scales covering my eyes were rent asunder. Surely this wasn’t a coincidence? I thought.
After Mass I asked my parents what their thoughts on the matter were to which Dad responded, ‘There are no coincidences when it comes to God.’ This alone filled me with hope and a profound consolation that surpassed any of the synthetic ecstasies I had experienced over my entire life. I could not shake this coincidence from my mind and began praying more fervently than ever before and the more I prayed, the more convicted I became about the necessity of the confessional.
A few days later, I was released from Calvary Hospital and returned home with Mum and Dad, after which I finally approached the confessional to be rid of the heavy burden of sins I had been carrying on my shoulders. Within days of being absolved of my long litany of offences, God then blessed me with a powerful grace that answered my prayers concerning whether it was merely a coincidence or not. In an instant, the subtlety of God’s sovereignty consumed everything around me as He showed me that despite the chaos I had sown into my life, He never lost control nor did He ever leave my side, striking me with an epiphany…
…The epiphany of a boy raised in Eden before dialoguing with the enemy and yielding to fear. Full of pride, ambition and greed; he moved to a distant part of the country to redeem his identity but instead became a servant of sin: lost, helpless, and trapped with no idea how to escape on his own. Realising how dark and miserable his life had become without God, he desperately called for help and The Lord faithfully delivered him from the madness of that dark night. Full of sorrow and imperfect contrition, Lord Jesus Christ, through the intercession of The Blessed Virgin Mary reminded me of the power of a mother’s prayer, transporting me to Calvary at the age of thirty-three, placing me at the foot of The Cross to die to myself so that I may rise as a prodigal son, conformable to the image of Christ; returning anew to Eden to the peace and freedom that had long ago been lost on account of my sins.
Lucky Number 33! What a ripper!