About My Challenge
I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and taking on the challenge - 3,307 push ups in 24days to raise money, awarness — and to share why this cause is deeply personal. It's not easy for me to share but it's important.
At 25, I lost my partner to suicide four days before Christmas. The shock and grief were overwhelming, and for a long time I didn’t know how I would survive. What carried me through was the presence of others — friends, family, colleagues — showing up when words weren’t enough. That experience stayed with me and shaped everything that followed.
With time and professional support, I slowly found my footing again. I met Andrew, and life began to feel hopeful. We built a life together and welcomed our two beautiful boys, Xavier and Mason.
As they grew, it became clear their journeys would look different. Both Xavier and Mason were diagnosed autistic. Loving them is the greatest joy of my life — they are resilient, funny, and uniquely themselves — but the path has also been incredibly challenging. There has been deep grief in letting go of the life I once imagined, constant advocacy through broken systems, endless appointments, isolation, and ongoing anxiety. The mental load is heavy, and it never really switches off.
Then came another trauma.
When Mason was just shy of three, he suffered a serious head injury after a fall at home. He sustained two skull fractures and bleeding between the skull & brain, doctors told us he should not have survived the injuries. What followed were ten days in Sydney Children’s Hospital — major brain surgery, an emergency blood transfusion. I have never been so terrified in my life a level of fear I didn’t know was possible, I still find it hard to talk about without breaking down.
All of this has unfolded over the last 15 years of my life. But alongside everything else, there had been one constant challenge, deeply rooted in my family & the reason I am doing this.
My dad
My dad lived most of life battling mental illness. Dad was a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, which led to alcohol use that worsened as time went on. As the years passed, the trauma that had been suppressed for so long began to surface more and more. A marriage breakdown added to the weight, and the depression and alcohol often won.
My brothers and I spent the better part of the last decade trying to help and support in every way we knew how. It was heartbreaking—and it still is.
I loved my dad deeply. Growing up, everything I needed was provided. No matter how hard life became, there was always generosity and love. If giving the last dollar meant I would be okay, that sacrifice would have been made without hesitation.
In the final year of life, more health battles appeared. Heart failure became a serious concern, among other issues. There were many hospital admissions—places that were deeply disliked by my father — but we pushed because we cared.
No matter how bad things became, the reassurance was always the same: “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
I believe those words were meant to protect me, knowing what I had already lived through.
By January 2024, things began to decline rapidly. An ICU admission followed, along with extensive testing and a discharge summary that spoke volumes about how serious things had become. There was reassurance offered from Dad—but deep down, we both knew this wasn’t good.
I had an overwhelming sense that the end was near.
Over the following months, some of the hardest conversations of my life took place—talks about wills, about what a funeral might look like, and eventually, the most painful conversation of all: giving him permission to let go.
The pain was overwhelming. His body was failing. There was no desire to return to hospital. The suffering was constant. Looking into my dad’s eyes and seeing that level of exhaustion and pain is something I will never forget.
In May 2024, my dad passed away. Heart failure is what appears on the death certificate—but the truth is, my dad chose to leave this world on own terms.
To this day, that reality still breaks my heart. There is a deep sense of grief in knowing there was nothing more we could do. The tiredness, the pain, and the weight of life simply became too much.
I don’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone. And that is why this challenge—this cause—means so much to me.
Why I’m asking for your support
I don’t have everything figured out. But I know what it’s like to need help. I know what it’s like to live with trauma, grief, anxiety, and exhaustion — and to keep going anyway.
I also know that mental health support saves lives. Professional care, early intervention, understanding communities, and properly funded services make a real difference.
If you’re able to donate, share, or support this fundraiser in any way, you’re helping create a world where people don’t feel so alone in their darkest moments — and where families can access help before it’s too late.
You don’t need the perfect words. You just need to show up.
Thank you for being here, and thank you for supporting this cause 🤍
All money raised for this challenge will be going to support headspace Kiama. I believe that if places like this had been available when my Dad was growing up, life may have been a little easier for him.
Dedicated to: My Dad - Peter Fitzgerald
Supporting headspace Kiama
headspace is Australia’s National Youth Mental Health Foundation, providing early intervention mental health services to 12-25 year olds.
Each year, headspace helps thousands of young people access vital support through our headspace centres in over 157 communities across Australia, our online and phone counselling services, our vocational services, and our presence in schools.
The support headspace receives from the community helps us achieve our vision - that all young Australians are supported to be mentally healthy and engaged in their communities.
My Challenge History
Pushuperer for 1 year
| Push-Ups | Funds | |
|---|---|---|
| 2026 | 0 | $2,195 |
| Total | 0 | $2,195 |
Part of Team Pushed to the Limit
Great cause much love