It was mid 1996, and I was finally free from the education department. I had just finished Polytech, and although it had taken six months longer than first anticipated, there were some excellent learnings especially in the life lessons department.

Now, I had to find a job and prove myself in the real world. Back in those days all job application correspondence was by snail mail and telephone. How did we cope without the internet and email “back in the day”?

I now had office technology and desktop publishing certificates under my belt but apparently you needed to have work experience. It’s actually really hard to get your foot in the door when you’ve only just qualified as you’ve had no real world experience. You’re basically putting your future in the hands of someone who likes your personality and hopes what they’ve seen on paper can translate in real life. I guess it’s a leap of faith for both parties.

After a month or two and a few job applications and interviews, I landed myself a full-time job. I was absolutely ecstatic, even if I was only earning $6.67 per hour, which was minimum wage at the time. It wasn’t much more than what I was getting paid by the government while I studied for my second six month stint at tech. It would take a pay rise to earn enough to start paying my student loan back. I was only paying 80c a week or something ridiculous and that went against the interest not the principal, but hey you’ve have to start somewhere!

I had a lot of responsibilities for an eighteen year old. I did the wages and leave accrual, accounts receivable, daily banking and a bit of accounts payable. One thing that became apparent quickly was that I was very good with numbers, although my fifth form grades and math’s teacher would beg to differ. My main role was as the receptionist, so I answered all incoming calls and greeted visitors at reception. There were many other tasks that I undertook and it was quite a challenge considering all of the interruptions and the numerous deadlines for some tasks which occurred daily, weekly and monthly. It wasn’t easy given I couldn’t even leave my desk to go to the bathroom without arranging cover.

It was a very interesting time for me. I was trying to pave my way as a young women in life and in the workforce. I was forging new friendships in a new environment, while trying to fit in and figure out the professionalism required in a work environment.

I think I struggled with my work vs. non work identity and I don’t think my attire was appropriate at times. I cringe to think of my ugly waste coat with pearl look buttons and the occasions I wore a black bra under a partially see through white shirt trying to be sexy or something. I remember wearing my new pair of green doc marten boots to work one day and I don’t think it was well received, never mind the fact I had to stop on the way back from the bank because my feet were bleeding from the blisters.

The owners had this corporate identity in their head for the business, as they were all about keeping up with appearances (the boss had his Toyota Soarer badges changed to Lexus badges if you get my drift). I did make some effort and it’s not like I wore jeans or untidy/casual clothes but there were definitely some fails. I think clothing had been my way of expressing my identity and wearing office clothes took that away from me (I think it probably had more to do with a maturity/insecurity thing).

It wasn’t long before my attire became an issue, and they were trying to get rid of me it seemed. I had been given a written warning and at the disciplinary meeting we discussed the warning letter. They were finding fault in the tiniest of things. Even I could see what was going on, but they couldn’t fire me for my appearance so they would pick on some parts of my role which I was not performing. One of the issues was a tray of filing which I hadn’t filed for a while. They were bill of lading (shipping documents) which never got looked at for the most part. I fought to show my integrity and abilities and I was very fortunate that there was another office lady who knew I was a bright spark and supported me through the process. She mentored me without stepping on the bosses toes, although I think there was an element of secrecy there as she knew they were being unfair. In the end things got completely turned around as there was no merit to the accusations and it became apparent their expectations and the workload were not realistic. The good thing was that the real issue was addressed and they took me down to the shops and bought me a smart navy blue jacket and skirt and I now had a uniform to wear. We were all much happier after that, with my work ethic never being questioned again. At the time I actually thought it was the way I looked that was the problem, not the way I dressed.

When I went through my old papers earlier this year to have a clean out, I found some old documents from that company and it was really upsetting to think my career started out that way. I’m proud of the fact that I was able to stand up for myself and that I never looked back from that incident or found myself in a situation where my work ethic was questioned again.

Unlike school, I took absolute pride in my work and during this time I hardly ever had a day off. I felt really good about myself and wanted to show the world I was worthy of something (not sure what). I was now a valuable/contributing member of society. I think working gave me purpose in life.

Even though I was finding my way in the world and making new friends at work, I still had issues with anxiety and insomnia. I’m pretty sure that the depression issues weren’t as prevalent at this time. On Friday’s we’d often go to the pub after work. I recalled the week before that I had vomited not long after we’d got to the pub and I wondered if the beer had upset my stomach. This time, I ordered a lemonade, but before I knew it I was back in the toilet vomiting again. I remember thinking that was strange but I think I’d already begun to have other digestion problems so it didn’t really ring any alarm bells. At some stage, the doctor referred me to the hospital to have an endoscopy (a camera gets inserted via your mouth to investigate your tummy). They didn’t find anything wrong, although my mother had had a history of ulcers and I was convinced there was a physical problem. I’m sure that I was disappointed with the result as I’m an inquisitive soul and I wanted to understand why this was happening. I wonder now if I had any inkling that the problem was from anxiety but I suspect not as I would change my diet on many occasions to try and “fix” one problem or another over the years.

It is obvious looking back now that I had severe social anxiety as it would continue to happen on many occasions, usually when I was out in town or at a party. I’m guessing that for some reason, I didn’t feel safe in large crowds and I can only assume I was scared of being verbally attacked like at school. It would occur less frequently over the years (maybe because I would go out less) but would still happen when I would go somewhere where lots of people would be. I remember stopping to vomit in a rubbish bin on the way to see the Foo Fighters some nearly twenty years after the problem started.

It wasn’t long after I got my job that I met my first long-term boyfriend and it all happened pretty quickly. We had met at a party. We were both a bit pissed (drunk) and we were going to another party at his house and I thought he was too drunk to drive. I kindly offered to drive although I hit something on the way (can’t remember what, but it wasn’t another car) and the wheel was rubbing on the mudguard making an horrendous noise. I felt awful but he wasn’t bothered and I’m thankful that nothing else happened considering I only had a learners license. It’s funny and embarrassing thinking about these incidents and how I’m quick to judge when others make mistakes. We have short memories sometimes.

Later that night he suffered the consequences of having too much alcohol and vomited out his window. Unfortunately, the sound of vomit makes me feel sick so there we were both vomiting out the bedroom window. Talk about romantic. It’s hard to imagine that after what some could see as a disastrous first meeting, involving a damaged car, excessive amounts of alcohol and subsequent dual vomiting that a relationship would flourish quickly. As a side note, the mudguard was later hammered out and was good as new. Thankfully it was a 1970’s car and they’re pretty robust.

Not long after I started my job, I moved out of my dad’s house and went out flatting with my cousin. In the blink of an eye, my boyfriend had moved in too, along with my cousin’s boyfriend. The set up was hilarious. I had my single divan bed and all of my meager furniture in my bedroom. We also had a divan bed as a couch in the lounge. We had borrowed a bar fridge from dad’s work, although I don’t think it had a freezer and I think my cousin sorted a washing machine. It wouldn’t be long before I found out about Hire Purchase (HP) and I would slowly upgrade my furniture and personal belongings. Me and HP would become firm friends after that. Having the option to buy now and pay later, especially if it’s interest free and your earnings are pretty meager, is pretty desirable when you don’t have a lot. My favourite shop was Forlongs Furnishings and they sure furnished me with many things over the years.

It was a really happy time in my life, although after a very short time with my boyfriend I was shocked that I’d missed my period and was horrified to find out that I was pregnant. I couldn’t understand how it had happened as I always used protection. Seeing my exploits often involved alcohol, I suspect there was a malfunction with the condom that I wasn’t aware of. I knew that I didn’t want to have a baby at the time and I knew the only option would be to have an abortion. I had only had a job for a few months and I wanted a career, I had just moved out of home and the relationship was so new. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my parents I was pregnant, as I was ashamed.

Me and my cousin were joking with my younger cousins (who were visiting) that I was pregnant, which shows my lack or maturity. It wasn’t long before the rumour got back to my mum and she confronted me. That was hands down the most awkward phone call I’ve ever received at work and I remember bursting into tears. My mum had the job of telling dad as I certainly didn’t know how to broach the subject with him.

My boyfriend at the time never questioned my decision and he was there when the procedure took place. I think mum night have come too but I’m not 100% sure. I know she was there when I had the endoscopy. It had a pretty traumatic beginning when the pills they gave me caused me incredible pain and made me feel nauseous and dizzy. They had to put me on a stretcher and wheel me to the operating theatre with haste and I passed all of the poor women who were in the waiting room (like they weren’t nervous enough already)

When I woke up, my boyfriend was waiting there with a smiley face balloon which was the sweetest thing. After a short period of time, we went home and life continued as normal. I remember some friends came over for beers and I went into the room and had a little cry to myself as I was clearly feeling upset about the whole thing even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself or others.

I was too embarrassed for my boyfriend to tell his parents (what kind of girl would they think I was?), so we told them some bullshit as to why I’d been in hospital. I was never a good liar but they never said anything. I was upset by the event but I don’t remember dwelling on it which seems uncharacteristic for me. It’s probably something I tried to bury but I know now that all trauma finds it’s way to the surface eventually. Over the years I would think about about the baby and a lot of different emotions would come up.

I think I went on birth control (the pill) soon after that as I was scared of getting pregnant again and little would I know that having a termination would play a part in my fertility issues some twenty years later. As I write this I am quite struck by my words, “I was scared of getting pregnant again”. This makes a lot of sense as to why I had difficulty getting pregnant years later, along with not thinking I deserved to be a mum because I didn’t keep the baby I was given. The doctor’s don’t look at what’s going on in your head or your past trauma when they look at your physical body. In my opinion it’s a huge flaw in the medical system. I’ll talk more about this topic later when I get to present time.

My boyfriend treated me really well and it was the first real time I’d experienced unconditional love. I still had an inferiority complex and I never felt good enough and there were definitely times when our relationship was tested, especially if other people tried to come between us which they often do when you’re out drinking. It didn’t bother him in the slightest that I had red eyes (pity it wasn’t the same for me).

I think by then I had found some allergy eyedrops which helped control the redness of my eyes which really helped my self-esteem. The problem was that I had to have them with me at all times and I would freak out if they got lost or misplaced, especially if we were going out. I lost count of how many times I had to stop at the emergency chemist and pick some new ones up. I would find out a few years later that my eyes were addicted to the eyedrops and it was better if I stopped using them as they could cause permanent damage to my pupils. It would take many years before I stopped them fully as when I stopped cold turkey, I looked like a vampire. After a tearful call to the doctor it was suggested I wean off them more slowly. It is interesting to note that it was never established why my eyes became red in the first place. If you believe that your mental dis-ease can cause disease in your body you won’t be surprised that I have a strong suspicion that me being so angry and literally seeing red about having eczema played a part. Certainly it’s no coincidence when I look at where my head was at.

When I look at my life and try to understand why I have so much fear and anxiety it is easy to understand now. The bulk of it had started from being teased at school, but then other things had happened along the way like accidentally falling pregnant. I had used protection and tried to make good decisions but as I had found out, that didn’t mean you would always get the desired outcome.

I navigated a shit tonne of things in what I think was probably six months or maybe a year. I got a job (fought to keep it), left my dad’s house and went flatting, got a long-term boyfriend, got pregnant and had an abortion. Also during this time my dad got his first girlfriend (post separation from mum) and her and her two children moved into what had been our family home. That was the reason I had to go flatting and there was a lot of resentments there (my siblings were three and six years younger than me so I imagine it was even more difficult for them). It is not surprising that my anxieties were so heightened and I wonder if my memory on the timing of when the vomiting started is mistaken and if it actually started after all those things happened.

As I’m proofreading some of this blog, I think I have the timing of things a bit out of whack. It was my intention to tell my story chronologically but my memory and the facts seem to be showing what seems like a matter of months could be as much as a year. It’s funny how time can blur together. I think my memory is pretty solid to be fair, considering nowadays when I get to work on Monday I can barely remember what I did on the weekend.

This blog was quite a bit heavier than some of the previous ones and I didn’t find as many ways to introduce some of my humourous moments but it’s important not to sugarcoat things. Talking about all that I have been through and am going through is important for my own growth and healing and I hope one day that I can help somebody else see that you can go through a lot of shit and come out the other end in a better position mentally.

This blog has been the hardest to write that’s for sure and taken me the longest amount of time to start and then finish. It has been strange going back in time and feeling those feelings again, feeling new feelings and realizing what life was like for me at that time. Probably what has been the most amazing part of it, are the moments of realizations where I have understood more about myself and why my journey has unfolded the way it has. For that I am grateful.

In my next blog I will talk about navigating life in my twenties and the rollercoaster ride which sees me fall into several job promotions and make some big changes in my relationships.