Overcoming the hurdles to finish the race

April 15th 1997, was a day like any other, aside from the fact I had just been born, full term with no abnormalities. Everyone thought I was perfectly normal, until about a month later, when that opinion was challenged. I could barely move. A set of scans revealed I had under-developed muscles; it seemed likely I would struggle through my childhood and long into later life.

My concerned parents took me to plenty of specialists but nobody could explain this strange occurrence, my family had no history of muscle problems. My mother and father did not have unhealthy habits that would cause such problems. It seemed as though l would simply have to live with my problem forever. My parents, who refused to give up hope, sent me to a physiotherapist up until the age of three and a half, when I took my first steps.

I stayed a content and happy child until primary school. Most 6 year olds are full of energy and are keen to run around and play race games, which the teachers at my school encouraged. My parents did not wish the teachers to know of my past. In fact, they had no more idea than me of the events of my past, as they believed I would be treated differently and be a figure of ridicule.

The physical education lessons were even more testing on me. My sports teacher had no idea of my situation and seemed to think that I was just being lazy during lessons and marked me down on my reports.

My primary school held annual sporting carnivals, where individual students ran, jumped and threw for prizes, glory and acceptance. I was one of few who got to see the darker side. When years and years go by of never being able to stand up to the podium and receive a ribbon and being taunted at being kicked out by the first round of an event, it hurts, it really, truly hurts.

As time went on I began to gain weight. An act of bullying over my size and weight when I was nine led to me being mentally scarred and extremely depressed. It felt like I was in a dark room where there was no way out, I just lost track of everything and every happy moment was clouded by grief that I couldn't explain. I didn't want to do anything or be around anyone. It was as though every pair of eyes that glanced my way were judging me. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't know who I was.

A year later, at a time when my self-corrupting thoughts had almost driven me to insanity, I woke up to discover something brilliant. I had true friends who didn’t care about my sporting ability; they cared about me for who I was. This spurred me on; I became determined to try harder in sport because there were hands to push me onwards and a cushion to fall back on if I failed. Aside from that, they had a different perspective, a better outlook on my life, but best of all they were there to show me my life's worth living. I'm still overcoming my massive hurdle, but I know at the end of the race I will be a much happier person.

When you're feeling depressed like I was, it's common to think you don't have any friends, that all doors are closed to you. I learnt to ‘climb through the window’ of a door that looks locked. In other words, if a door looks locked – it means that you just need to look at it a different way. Sometimes, people can't understand how you're feeling, but as long as YOU understand they care, you can't go wrong.

I've kept my struggles a relative secret before now as the thought of my past and current difficulties still causes me great pain. I've chosen to speak out because I want to spread the word that every path in life can be walked down, if you’re willing to overcome obstacles along the way.

I know what it's like to think you're worthless, that your life has no meaning, that death would come as a relief to your aching heart. If it weren't for the great support of my friends I'd still be in that horrible state of mind.

I deal with feeling sad, lonely or angry by talking to a friend. It's really hard sometimes but they have the power to help me when I can't help myself. For a lot of people like me it's difficult to come out and talk about such horrible things, but somebody there to listen, rationalise and show me they care is sometimes all it takes to feel good again.

I am one of the luckiest people in the world.