Philippa’s Story

When I was a newborn baby my mother noticed I had a very small pin-sized hole in the outside corner of my eye. Somewhat alarmed she took me to our family doctor to make sure all was well. Turns out I was gifted with an extra set of tear ducts, and one was placed on the outside of my eye rather than in it.

Now it is at this point of my early beginnings that one could have two points of view – I slight design fault, or that perhaps an ‘add-on’ that God in his wisdom knew I may be needing throughout my life journey.

When I was shy of 2 months old, not long after learning of my additional gift, Cyclone Tracy tore through my family home and destroyed everything. All that remained was the bathroom walls, a bath full of water and debris, and a sink my bassinet was tucked under filled with glass. That night was the one and only night I slept through for the first 2 years of my life. 

It may seem a strange way to introduce myself and my story to you, but I think that those two early moments in my life are a perfect picture of what was ahead. The need and ability to shed a million tears, and the peace that can be found in the middle of complete and utter devastation.

I would say that I was a very happy and bubbly young child who knew nothing of insecurities, but like many people, my parents divorced when I was young. At the age of seven I realised that Disney’s happily ever after always finished on a high note, and that maybe the reality of life after was not a guarantee of orchestrated happy endings.

I was raised in a broken home; witnessed, and experienced, emotional, physical and financial abuse at the hand of my stepfather; married young; suffered a miscarriage; buried my father; buried my husband; raised 4 children as a solo parent; remarried and divorced; lost connections with friends and family; been suicidal; developed a bad relationship with alcohol; and worn a mask of self-preservation to the world around me.

Sounds embellished, doesn’t it?

I read that short summary and it sounds made-up – and although I sometimes wish that were the case, my story is not a story looking for sympathy, but rather one that is about empathy and understanding. 

While life had been filled with highs and lows, it was on 10 May 2007 that my first earthquake moment hit me. My father at the age of 56 was diagnosed with cancer. On 10 June 2007 – exactly 1 month later he passed away. Our relationship strained and my heart broken.

Exactly 3 years and 1 week later, on 17 June 2010 my husband of 16 years passed away after a 6-month battle with stomach cancer. He was 40 years young, and I was a 35-year-old mother with 4 children under the age of 12.

There is nothing that can prepare you for such earth-shattering moments. They leave you wondering if you will ever breath without the crushing weight upon your chest again.

Every day, something would trigger grief, or anger, or panic. And watching my children lose their father was the hardest part of it all.

Martin was self-employed and our financial security was not the firmest, so after a period of readjustment I returned to the workforce to re-establish a career after being a stay-at-home mum. I studied my MBA and threw myself into my love of learning and mental stimulation.

In 2015, I had a whirlwind relationship and although I could see all the reasons why it was the wrong thing to do, I still walked down the aisle telling myself it would get better, and this was all I deserved.

After 12 months of emotional abuse and a family unit that was breaking down rapidly, I broke. I was in a dark place.

My short-lived relationship had isolated me from my friends and family, and I found myself completely alone, overwhelmed and wondering if I could go on.

Desperate for help, I trawled the internet searching for a place to run to, to take refuge in, and be supported to restore the brokenness that surrounded me. I quickly realised there were some wonderful places available – but in order to get their help I would have to mortgage my home to pay for the $10-20k privilege of feeling mentally supported!

It was there, at my lowest point that the vision for RestoreHER was birthed in me. A place that I longed for, and one I knew would ensure others who be seen and held. RestoreHER is a place for all women to come and find support and connection.

I took a slow road to my healing. There are times when I still grieve Martin. There are still wounds and shame that come from a broken marriage. And there are new seasons of change that I face – such as empty nest – which can overwhelm me as I navigate their unchartered waters. But those moments do not define me – they have shaped me – but they do not hold me frozen.

I know firsthand that life is not a fairytale. It is filled with unforeseeable moments that can derail you and leave you disorientated. But can I encourage you that those moments are not the end of your story. There is so much beauty left to write. 

My hope is that RestoreHER can be a space for you to find rest, restoration and healing.