By 2010, I was roughly halfway through my adult apprenticeship, juggling working away, spending whatever time I could with my kids, and trying to build something for my future. After years of instability, I finally had some direction. I was earning decent money, working towards a trade and beginning to think more seriously about what I wanted the rest of my life to look like.

I had also dabbled in internet dating. I wanted to meet someone I could eventually settle down with and build a life beside. That was how I met Jenny. Neither of us knew it at the time, but she would eventually become one of the most important people in my life. Unfortunately for her, before we got anywhere near that point, I was about to put this innocent woman through what can only be described as thirteen years of sh!t f@ckery.

I wouldn't exactly say we hit it off immediately. Our first date was at the Coffee Club, and afterwards she didn't even call me back. Apparently, I hadn't made quite the impression I thought I had. If I wanted another date, I was going to have to put in some genuine effort.

There was something different about Jenny. She had self respect, strong opinions and absolutely no intention of making things easy for me. Her stubbornness was something I admired, and I thought she was absolutely beautiful. The fact that she wasn't falling at my feet only made me more determined. I took it as a challenge. I wanted to make her mine.

In hindsight, if Jenny had been given even a five minute preview of what the next thirteen years were going to look like, I'm fairly certain she would have put down her coffee, picked up her handbag and run a mile without looking back. Truthfully, that probably would have been the sensible thing to do.

But I eventually managed to secure that second date, and slowly our dating turned into a relationship. It wasn't exactly a fairy tale romance. I was still working away regularly and, when I was home, I was kind of living at my sister's place or staying with Jenny whenever she would let me. Her attitude towards me remained reserved. Jenny wasn't someone who handed out trust freely, and I was going to have to earn my place in her life.

Before long, my apprenticeship came to an end and I finally completed my trade. I was proud of what I had achieved, but I'd had enough of working remotely. I'd spent years being sent all over Australia, sometimes for months at a time, never knowing where I would be going next or how long I would be gone. The day I finished my apprenticeship, I left the company. I wanted a job closer to home, more time with my kids and some stability in my life.

During the years I had spent working away, my m@th use had remained fairly low. At the time, I considered it moderate recreational use. Because I could go away for long periods, work hard and function normally without it, I convinced myself there wasn't a problem. In my mind, people with dr@gs problems didn't hold down jobs, complete apprenticeships or spend their spare time training at the gym. I was doing all of those things, so I figured I was fine.

Unfortunately, my old mate Tim from New Zealand had also moved to Australia. Every now and then, when I managed to get an evening to myself, we would catch up and head into the city. Tim had always been able and willing to supply me with whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it, and our friendship gave me easy access back into a world I probably should have left behind.

By then, the gym had become a big part of my life. I trained regularly and wanted to get bigger, and Tim could help me out there too. Steroids entered the picture. Some of my workouts ended up being powered by a ridiculous combination of pre workout, m@th and synthetic testosterone. At the time, I thought it was fantastic. Looking back, it probably wasn't the smartest cocktail to be smashing before picking up heavy objects.

I gained size quickly. I became almost as wide as I was tall. My shoulders grew, my arms got bigger and my clothes became tighter. I loved the physical changes and the attention that came with them. Unfortunately, my muscles weren't the only thing growing.

So was my ego.

The testosterone gave me an enormous amount of confidence, and in my case confidence had a habit of turning into arrogance. I liked being big. I liked being noticed. I walked around thinking I was ten feet tall and bulletproof, even if I was actually built more like a fridge with legs.

Jenny was considerably less impressed with my transformation than I was.

She didn't care how much I could bench press or how big my arms were. The ego that came with it was something she certainly didn't like or appreciate. While I was busy admiring what I saw in the mirror, Jenny was getting to know the person underneath it, and that person still had plenty of growing up to do.

There was also something I deliberately kept from her. Jenny hated dr@gs, and I knew exactly how strongly she felt about them. I knew that if she discovered I was using m@th or anything else, there was a very good chance she would kick me to the curb. I didn't want to lose her, but apparently I didn't want to stop what I was doing either.

So I hid it.

That became an early crack in the foundation of our relationship. Instead of making a choice between the lifestyle I had known and the woman I wanted to build a future with, I tried to keep both. I compartmentalised my life. There was the Beau who worked, trained, spent time with his kids and tried to build a relationship with Jenny, and there was another version who occasionally disappeared into the city with Tim and did things Jenny knew nothing about.

At the time, I didn't really consider what that dishonesty said about me. I told myself I loved Jenny, and I genuinely believed that I did. But when I look back at the man I was then, I have to ask myself what I actually understood about love.

Love doesn't lie, cheat, boast or deliberately hurt the person standing beside you. Yet I was capable of doing all of those things. I wanted Jenny's trust while keeping secrets from her. I wanted her loyalty while behaving in ways that didn't deserve it. I wanted a future with her without being prepared to give up the things that could eventually destroy that future.

The uncomfortable truth is that Jenny deserved better than the version of myself I was offering her.

I wasn't some monster, and there were plenty of good parts to our life together, but I was selfish. I wanted everything on my terms. I could work hard, be a father, hold down a good job and genuinely care about the people around me, while still making decisions that hurt them. For a long time, being functional allowed me to avoid looking too closely at my behaviour.

I still believed I was completely in control of the dr@gs. M@th was something I did occasionally. Steroids were something I used for the gym. I was working and building a career, so there was always something I could point towards as evidence that everything was fine.

What I couldn't see was how quickly life could change when those little compromises began stacking on top of each other.

In 2010, Jenny had no idea where our relationship would eventually take us, and neither did I. She had met a bloke working towards his trade, trying to be a good dad, spending half his life in the gym and talking about building a future. She couldn't possibly have known about the addiction, homelessness, broken trust and chaos that would eventually become part of our story.

All she knew was that some persistent d!ckhead she had met on the internet wouldn't give up after she failed to call him following their first date.

Eventually, she gave me another chance.

It certainly wouldn't be the last one she gave me.

And so began thirteen years of sh!t f@ckery.