Smiling for the photographer, I was so proud of myself.
Aged 21, I’d recently quit an event planning course to pursue my dream of becoming a personal trainer.
Growing up, I’d always been inspired to look after and nourish my body by my parents, Amy and Michael, who were both dedicated athletes.
Then, in October 2017, I finally worked up the courage to begin my fitness career.
Landing a job at my local gym, I loved helping train clients to transform their bodies and minds.
Now trying my hand at modelling, I was pleased I’d pushed myself outside my comfort zone once more.
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After the photoshoot had wrapped up, I stopped at the supermarket to pick up some groceries before heading home for dinner at around 5pm.
Pulling into my driveway, I grabbed my bags out of the 4WD and made my way to the front door.
But, just as I was about to turn my key in the lock, I noticed my neighbour drive past.
We had only ever spoken a few words before, but now he seemed to be intently staring in my direction.
That’s strange, I thought, returning my attention to the door.
Just then, I noticed something moving out the corner of my eye.
Whipping my head around, I realised my Land Rover Discovery was rolling backwards down my driveway!
I’ve got to stop it going on to the street, I thought.
Panicked, I leapt behind the car, arms still full of grocery bags, to try and stop it from slipping any further.
But, despite using all my strength, I was no match for the truck, which weighed nearly three tonnes - and it was picking up speed!
I’m about to die, I thought, terrified.
Figuring it would be safest to get out of the way to avoid getting hurt, I turned to move away.
Suddenly, I stumbled.
But just as I corrected myself, still on my feet, my car ploughed into me, tossing me through the air like a ragdoll.
After landing with a thud, my body rolled down the driveway and right into the middle of the busy road, where I finally came to a stop.
Lying face down, I barely had time to register what had happened to me before I looked up and noticed my car was just centimetres away.
I’m about to die, I thought, terrified.
Just then, one of the back tyres rolled over my face, pinning my head against the bitumen.
The front tyre followed seconds later, rolling up onto my head, where it stopped for a brief moment, before rolling back the other way.
In shock, I let out a blood-curdling scream.
Incredibly, my neighbour had seen the whole thing and, rushing to my side, dragged me from beneath the vehicle.
My housemate Fabian, who had been at home, raced over, too.
‘My car ran over me,’ I cried.
As adrenaline coursed through me, I couldn’t feel any pain.
But when I touched my hand to my face, I could feel hot, wet, blood gushing from my left eye.
Thankfully, Fabian took me straight to the nearest hospital, where a nurse called my mum.
When she arrived with my grandma, Barbara, I could see the worry in her eyes.
She’d thought I was dead.
‘I’m so glad you’re okay,’ Mum cried.
Still, I couldn’t believe the damage to my face, now I’d taken a photo.
At 21, I had my whole life ahead of me and it felt like it had been taken away.
‘My life is over,’ I sobbed.
‘You need to stop crying and suck it up. You’re alive,’ Grandma said sternly.
It seemed harsh, but she was right.
I was lucky to have survived.
Shortly afterwards, doctors revealed I’d broken my eye socket, skull and knee, and dislocated my shoulder and elbow.
I needed to be transferred to a different hospital where surgeons would be better equipped to deal with my injuries. There, I underwent a series of X-rays and a CT scan to confirm the damage.
But when my doctor came to speak with me, she was lost for words.
‘I don’t know how this is possible, but all you need is stitches,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t even be alive,’ she added, clearly shocked.
Despite the human head only being able to withstand around 200 kilos before being crushed, I’d been run over by almost three
tonnes – not once, but twice!
After receiving more than 50 stitches, I was free to go home.
As my body slowly recovered over the next month, my mum was my rock.
Even when I was too embarrassed to leave the house, she was always there to lift me up.
‘You’re still my beautiful girl,’ she’d remind me.
Now, more than two years on, my face has completely healed apart from a scar on my left cheekbone.
Though it was a huge knock to my self-confidence at first, I’ve come to accept the mark as my battle scar.
Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of just how resilient the human body can be, which is something I remind my clients every day.
As the saying goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!
