My father never believed I could pursue acting, and he fought me every step of the way. It was a constant uphill battle. I asked if I could take acting classes, and his response was always the same: “No, we don’t have a car!” When I wanted to take singing lessons, his excuse shifted: “You can’t; your brothers have disabilities, and I can’t take you anywhere.” And as I grew older, the excuses just kept coming. “It’s too far,” or “We can’t afford it.” The list went on and on. Many people didn’t understand the type of person my father was. He wasn’t the kind of parent who’d say, “You’re 16, go get a job.” Instead, he seemed more interested in flaunting the idea of having a smart child, someone who could make him feel superior to his siblings.
My overwhelming desire for my father’s love and approval drove every decision I made. I studied relentlessly, to the point where it took a toll on my health—physically and mentally. Honestly, I still feel the effects from it.
See, growing up, I thought my dad was awesome. He was being strict because he wanted what was best for me. I even believed I was being spoiled because I didn’t have to juggle work and study the way others did. I just had to study extremely hard. But the truth I eventually discovered was far darker than I ever imagined.
My dad didn’t just want me to study hard to gloat about having a smart child. And use me as his tool for superiority over his siblings, but he also did it because he didn’t want to lose any Youth Allowance benefits (Welfare). At the time, it seemed harmless. After all, he was just trying to provide for us, right? Wrong. His decision to keep me stuck in an endless cycle of studying took away my opportunity to understand the real world, outside of school and welfare. He was exploiting his kids for financial gain, and never once did he think about how helping us pursue our dreams might lead to true success and happiness.
Instead of nurturing his children’s growth, he was fixated on keeping us studying for as long as possible, all for the sake of welfare benefits. So, when I completed my Criminology degree and was offered a chance to continue into the honours program, I declined. And when I enrolled in an acting school—one that required me to pay as I went, rather than relying on a student loan—his anger was immense. It took me some 10 years after graduating criminology to realise that my father’s motivations were rooted in keeping me small, in making me a workhorse for his financial gain. No wonder I’ve ended up attracting employers who treated me the same way—like an object to be used, controlled, and manipulated.
The irony in all of this is that during my criminology studies, we spent so much time looking into why people commit crimes, why they turn to crime, and the different kinds of abuse that exist—financial abuse, domestic violence, family abuse, and the tactics abusers use to keep their victims trapped in this endless cycle. We learned all about manipulation in relationships and family dynamics. And yet, through all of that, I never once saw that this was happening in my own life. I couldn’t see that what my dad was doing was cruel, unethical, and immoral.
Sure, I saw the cruelty from my employers. But honestly? I didn’t always question it because I was so used to it. It felt normal. I thought it was just how things were. I figured, “Of course employers are going to yell,” because in my family, yelling was normal. I thought it was fine for employers to talk about other people’s looks and put them down, because that’s what gossipy families do. I even accepted those insulting jokes, because they were “just jokes,” right?
It wasn’t until much later that I realised this behaviour wasn’t normal at all. I had grown up surrounded by it, so I never questioned it. But in recent years, I’ve finally come to see the pattern for what it really was.
It’s strange looking back now to my criminology classes because I remember reading and learning about women in abusive relationships and end up in recurring cycles of abuse. They stay with their abusers, hoping things will change. I couldn’t understand it at the time. I used to wonder, why do people stay in relationships where their partners constantly abuse them—mentally, physically, verbally, emotionally, financially, in any way? I used to think, Why do they keep picking the bad ones? Can’t they see it? But here’s the thing: I couldn’t see it either, not from a mile away. Physical violence is easier to spot because it’s so obvious, and we’re all taught to recognise it. But the stuff that isn’t so obvious—financial abuse, verbal abuse, psychological manipulation, mental games—those things are way harder to catch.
And I can tell you firsthand, if you’ve grown up with it your whole life, it’s even harder to see. I was told what I could and couldn’t do, didn’t have my own money dad controlled all money in the house, had to ask for clothes, but more so, completely relied on my cousins and godparents for their “hand-me-downs.” I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my friends unless my dad was visiting a neighbour, and we could play then. I wasn’t even allowed to walk to school with my friends. Couldn’t have anyone over to play. It’s like I was being conditioned to depend on my parents, to feel like I needed them around 24/7.
Some people might read this and say, So what? Your parents were just overprotective, or maybe a little stingy with money. That’s not abuse. And I get it, I thought the same way. But like you what I didn’t see back then was that this was a kind of control, not love.
Overprotectiveness and control can create an environment where children develop severe anxiety, fear, and complete dependence. If you try to break away, you risk losing everything—your family, your sense of belonging. For many, it’s easier to stay quiet and keep the peace, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness.
I was in what can only be described as a family cult. We couldn’t talk about the rules of our household outside of the family. We couldn’t challenge our father. We just listened and learned from him, believing his way was the only right way. Even our mother rarely challenged him, siding with him most of the time. When she did, we saw the cold, calculating power he wielded over her. By then, he had complete control over all of us, and we followed him without question.
It’s painful to admit that I was raised in this way, but the reality is that many families operate like cults, where parents use their position of authority to maintain control and elevate their own status. This kind of behaviour stunted my growth in ways I didn’t even realize until much later.
I still struggle with trusting myself and making decisions. For so long, I believed my happiness depended on making my father happy, that his approval was the key to my fulfillment. But through years of healing, I’ve come to understand that this isn’t true. As Tyler Perry once said, “Nobody knows what God has put in your heart.” I had to learn to trust my own path, to embrace my own passions, and to understand that my worth doesn’t depend on anyone else’s approval.
I now realise that I was meant to share stories and write—it’s how I can help others heal and start their own journey. What we don’t understand is we can live in sadness that we don’t have our parents wanting to join us on our journey or we can embrace the only true parent that can never let us down—God. When you really let your heart feel just how much god loves you, that God is always there, even when you can’t feel God, deep down you know God, loves you completely and unconditionally, even when the world doesn’t see your worth, God knows the truth and it’s up to you if you will believe God’s truth or the worlds truth about yourself. Relying on external love and approval from errored people in order to feel good about yourself will never work. It will always lead to disappointment. You have to build your own self-worth—not a fake, inflated version, but one that comes from healing your past wounds and traumas. Only then, when you truly see the unique, incredible person God created you to be—with your own passions and desires—will your real-life journey begin.
So far, I’m discovering that I’m not a nobody, I’m not a pushover or a slave to others. I am worthy, and so are you. We all have gifts to share, and our journeys are uniquely ours to follow.
As I continue to heal, I’m excited to share my personal story through film. On how we all must face our past wounds in order to truly flourish in our passions. I’m happy to announce this week we released our first short film called “Conversations with Poppy”
“Conversations with Poppy” tells the story of a talented Greek-Australian actress, constantly ridiculed, who, after another failed audition, reaches her breaking point. Just when she’s about to give up, two mysterious voices offer her conflicting guidance on how to change her future.
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