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“My water just broke.” I reported, as the midwife stared at my deadpan expression with curiosity and incredulousness. It was my third birth, my third time having to persuade hospital staff that my labour was much further along than was believed to be. The nurse checked, gasped, and told me to begin pushing. When it was all over and I was being stitched up, she proceeded to chuckle. She said she had never encountered a patient like me, so calm and collected in the absence of anaesthesia. Yet, the experience was completely different inside my mind.

The mask that was my face, I realised, had been carried around for too long. I decided that it was time to make some radical changes. To do this, however, I really needed to get back to basics: who was I? It sounded silly, but after all the energy that had been spent trying to conform to social norms and please others, I had never been able to answer the question.

I discovered that I was neurodiverse after one of my children was diagnosed. I also came to accept that I was a person of diverse sexual orientation. Unsurprisingly, this was never picked up by multiple professionals despite my long clinical history, because many women often fly under the radar of a diagnosis. So, arming myself with knowledge, I took the lead and found the right professionals to help.

Self-acceptance was initially confusing, but over time it has become increasingly freeing to look in the mirror and see the real human me.

At UNSW I have finally found a workplace where I feel safe, accepted and included. Here, I also have the opportunity to help others like me, through becoming an Ally@UNSW, a mental health first-aider and a member of the Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Staff Consultative Group.