This article was written by a 26-year-old from a small town in the North West of Melbourne who wishes to remain anonymous. She is finally re-attempting tertiary studies after dropping out due to the circumstances mentioned in the article. She also currently finds herself happy in a same-sex relationship, after years of therapy and hard work, and working with children with special needs.
This post deals with sexual assault and might be triggering for some readers.
Year 12 is hard enough for Australian students, without the extra intensity of mental health problems. I don’t know why or where my anxiety and depression came from, but I was finding it more and more difficult to stay in class and concentrate.
My friend was the first to notice the marks of self harm on my arms and legs, despite my best efforts to hide them. She did the right thing, what anyone in her position would do as a 17-year-old at school with concern - she went to a trusted teacher.
He and his wife had been teaching at the school for years, since my parents had attended. He also happened to be my English teacher. Both he and his wife were well known for being the best of the best. I looked up to him with true infatuation and respect, like a father or a favourite sports coach.
When he came to me with my friend’s concern, he was respectful, solemn, and seemed to exhibit genuine care for me. Little did I know he had ulterior motives.
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