When my Inbox goes ping and I see it’s another piece for Writers in the Attic, I feel a little thrill. I have to drop what I’m doing and read it straightaway. I can’t resist. Each of the essays I’ve posted has resonated with me in some way and many have had me reaching for the tissue box. People’s stories are all so different but all moving. Not only am I in awe of the quality of the writing, but I’m always left with a sense of admiration at the obstacles people have overcome to get to where they are.

Here’s Denise Mills’ story. I promise you won’t be disappointed:

Writing is a big deal to me. A really big deal. I had a job as an accountant and had been working in public practice for almost 10 years when I reached breaking point. I hated the work. I hated charging every six minutes of my time. I hated the lack of connection. Each day I felt like a robot, churning out yet another set of financial reports, exchanging nine hours a day of unhappiness for financial reward, as well as for the snazzy title.

Each day I felt like a robot … exchanging nine hours a day of unhappiness for financial reward, as well as for the snazzy title.

After coming from a fairly poor family with a mother who slogged her guts out as an underpaid secretary, and a father who stayed at home and drank due to a work accident, I thought my parents set the limits of what I could achieve. Since I was their creation, this made perfect sense to me.

Despite being an A-grade student and coming second in my year, I decided I may as well leave school at Year Ten. I couldn’t see any point continuing; my family was far too poor to afford to send me to university and I had no idea that Government student loans existed. Also, I was pretty sure I wasn’t smart enough for university. Those students were way out of my league, like Stephen Hawking or Einstein.

Since I’d already left home at 16 and was working a part-time job of an evening, I thought ‘Why the heck am I still bothering with school since there is no hope for me?’. I did what any A-grade student with terrible self-esteem would do: I quit school so I could work full time at McDonalds and smoke pot.

I did what any A-grade student with terrible self-esteem would do: I quit school so I could work full time at McDonalds and smoke pot.

When I fell pregnant with my boyfriend, it was not planned and I was not happy. In fact, I was petrified. I had no idea how to be a parent was terrified of disappointing my mother, who was quite religious. I wrote her a letter when I was already four months pregnant and she was surprisingly supportive. I was 18.

My son came into the world and I continued working in food and retail. When my partner left for a ‘break’ when our son was three, I told him not to bother coming back. We were very young when we first got together and our relationship was always on-again-off-again. I wanted my son to have more stability, even if that meant single parenting.

During the time on my own, something shifted. I started remembering who I was. I started remembering that I was capable of more than handing people food and giving them change. I remembered that my life was actually my own.

During the time on my own, something shifted. I started remembering who I was. 

I went to TAFE and got a Certificate IV in Financial Services, purely because my aunty could babysit during the hours the classes were running. When I finished, this gave me the confidence to go University, with the encouragement of my TAFE teacher. I enrolled as a mature aged student in my early twenties, did a Bachelor of Business (Accounting/Economics), then a Graduate Diploma, and went out and got a job as an accountant. I hated it from day one.

But no-one said life was meant to be easy. By this time my mother had died of cancer at age 50 and I was estranged from my father since I no longer had any reason to have anything to do with him. Work was all about the Key Performance Indicators, no genuine care for staff or clients. I was always stressed and had less patience for my son than I would like to admit. I also had a regular eye-twitch that bugged the hell out of me.

When I had my own health scare, I was disappointed when the results came back negative. I didn’t want to die but it would have been the pause button I needed for the world to just stop, just stop so I could recalibrate and figure out what the heck was happening. That’s when I knew it was time to change my life. I started thinking of ideas, things I could do instead of accounting, but I always hit a brick wall. I applied for jobs outside the accounting world but never got anywhere—why would they hire me in admin or customer service, when it seemed like such an odd switch?

I didn’t want to die but it would have been the pause button I needed for the world to just stop.

One day I crashed at work—not physically, but spiritually—I couldn’t go on. I said to myself (or maybe I said it out loud?), ‘I release this’. I released my concern that I had no idea what else could possibly do, having worked in the accounting industry for so long. I released my concern about finances. I released the fear of losing my cool job that made people treat me so much better than they did when I’d tell them I was a waitress. I released my belief that I had to control the universe and instead let it help me.

I felt it all leave my body.

Seconds after I uttered those words the phone rang, and I was offered a job three days a week as a TAFE teacher, which paid the same amount as full time accountancy. Now, I won’t lie. This event wasn’t quite as remarkable as it sounds. I was already working at TAFE one evening a week teaching a three-hour business class, so it’s not like I was cold-called randomly out of the phone book. But still, I do think there was an element of magic to it. I think that’s how the universe works.

I discovered my human side again.

I worked as a teacher for a couple of years and while it wasn’t my calling, I discovered my human side again. We had morning tea breaks! I talked freely to the students and to my colleagues without thinking about six-minute time blocks! I was a real, living, breathing human and no longer a robot.

In this new realm of personal freedom, I started writing. Writing was a pastime I enjoyed as a kid: I wrote poetry and short stories just for fun, illustrated them, and stapled my work together to make little books. I imagined myself as different people and even different objects, with my favourite short story being, My Life as a Pencil. (A thrilling read: the pencil ends up in the dump because he’s sharpened down to a tiny stump, but makes friends with a broken ruler and they have one hell of a good time together.)

One thing led to another, and just from doing what I enjoy, an unpaid writing gig on the side led to a paid writing gig. Then, more work came along and now all I do is write. I am a writer and I don’t care if that doesn’t sound as fancy as an accountant and I’m on 30-grand a year less than I was. I am free and I am doing what I truly love doing.   

I never imagined I could get paid to do what I love but I guess that’s what happens when you trust the magic. Yes, writing is a big deal.