It goes without saying, I look normal on the outside but spend a day in my shoes and you will then get a true account of what day-to-day living is like. 

The days when anxiety sets in, you just don't want to go out, stuck indoors waiting for some family member to come home so you feel safe; so you have someone around you. Panic attacks that can keep you stricken in your chair, “Oh my God, I cant move”. 

There's a knock at the door, now I'm feeling scared. Who is it? What do they want? Quick, get your wife to answer the door. You hear a car go by and think it's in your driveway. Oops, it's panic stations again. 

Constant nausea, headaches, pain, cramps, sweating, anxiety, fear, someone's watching you, someone's following you, feeling low, no self-esteem, don't wish to associate with people, don't think I like people any more, can't work, can't write, can't concentrate, can't sleep, feeling guilty, feeling down, feeling like there's a big dark hole and you just can't get out.

I ask myself time and time again, “Is suicide the answer?”. I don't know. Gosh, I don't wish to go down that path but crikey, I think about it all the time. 

The hardest thing to cope with is the thought of how can this happen, at 53 with no history of mental health illness? I constantly question myself – am I going mad? 

A single moment of thuggery, a king hit, has left me a broken man. The moment I woke from unconsciousness I felt I was no longer the man I once was – changed forever so it seems. A barrage of kicks to the head has left me in dreaded pain. 

The big tough guy that played Aussie rules from the age of nine till he was 40 is now a crumbling waste. Well that's how I feel. 

I am so lucky to have a beautiful supportive wife and family members around me, not to forget my medicos who do a marvellous job treating my symptoms, but the toll this has taken on me and my family is horrendous. 

Losing my job as a result of my injuries was a unforgettable moment. To receive an email from my boss to tell me that my position has been terminated was just … well all I can say, it just sucks. 

Leaving the town we loved was hard but necessary to be closer to family and medical support. Trying to get one's life back is the most daunting and straining thing one has ever encountered.

I look back and think about the perpetrator, with a list of prior convictions stemming from three states – a three-year jail term with parole after 18 months makes my blood boil. The court system in Australia needs changing. There needs to be more emphasis on putting these thugs away for longer prison terms so they can't hurt innocent people. 

Judges need to wake up. Our police do a mighty effort in getting these criminals to court only to be let down by the court system.

***If you are suffering from a mental illness, contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.

Last Wednesday two elderly friends of mine, as long-time residents of Bendigo, made their way, to the Town Hall to attend a City of Greater Bendigo Council meeting, to hear the discussion on amendment C217 for Big Hill and Mandurang. 

Upon arrival, they were accosted by several belligerent individuals who expected them to wear a four-digit number. Deeply disquieted on realising this was against the Bendigo mosque, my friends, aged in their 80s, tried to explain: “How can you ask us to do this – we are Polish migrants?” Unsurprisingly, the subtle historic parallels from Nazi-occupied Europe were completely lost upon the anti-mosque protesters.

It is highly doubtful that any of the Rights for Bendigo Residents members and their two supporters on council have any personal connection with those they choose to hate, fear and misrepresent – namely, ordinary, law-abiding Bendigo Muslims.

Twentieth-century Spanish liberal philosopher Jose Ortega y Gassett made the profound observation that “hatred is a sentiment that leads to the extinction of values”. The escalating thuggishness and impunity of anti-Islam groups currently embarrassing and dividing Bendigo are an unedifying example of this universal truth.