For context I’m a 19 year old girl currently studying nursing. My parents ever since I was little have tried to push me into medicine. Whenever I mentioned another job she would dismiss it or be incredibly rude. She asked me some days ago, “why don’t you want to do medicine” and I said “you are the reason”.

For people not from Australia the ATAR is your highschool rank. 99 is the highest, 0 is the lowest. I got an ATAR of 93.40. My predicted in highschool was 94 which is still exceptional.

I sent my mom the following message:

I tried to say over the phone when I mentioned that you played a role in me losing interest in medicine. Please understand that I’m not saying this to blame, disrespect, or hurt you, but to help you understand where I’m coming from and why my decision is final.

When I said in early 2023 that I would never study medicine, it wasn’t out of defiance—it was something I truly meant. A large part of that decision stems from difficult experiences I went through in 2022, especially moments that left me feeling deeply discouraged, hurt, and unsupported.

At the start of 2022, I was doing 6 ATAR subjects and performing fairly well. Physics was the only subject I struggled with, receiving a B and a 60-something average mostly due to a weaker exam. I still remember how disappointed you were. That’s completely valid—but I also remember how you spoke to me during that early morning drive from Modem Street to school. What you said stayed with me for a long time, it was extremely discouraging, to the point where I skipped my morning badminton session and was so emotionally affected that a teacher noticed and sent me to the office. When I spoke to my Head of Year about it, they suggested calling you to explain how ATAR works and how my result didn’t mean what you thought it did, but I asked them not to because I didn’t want to make things worse.

Then in September, something happened that I’ve never been able to forget. It started with me accidentally slamming the car door outside 39A Matheson Road. I understand it had happened before, but it was never intentional. That night, I was struck on the head twice almost immediately after it happened. I was visibly upset, crying throughout the drive home. When we got inside, you asked me to remove clothes from the couch, and even though I was still crying and in pain, you continued yelling. I tried to tell you I was just upset, but instead of giving me space to calm down, you left and came back with Dad. What followed was a very violent episode that left me physically and emotionally shaken. I was hit multiple times, and when I tried to shield my head and mentioned that my neck hurt, Dad stopped—but when you came back downstairs and yelled, it continued, and my clothes were torn. I had visible marks on my body afterward. And through it all, you didn’t intervene to stop it.

Two months later, I received a predicted ATAR of 91.99 (which, as we later discovered, wasn’t accurate). Your disappointment came through again—understandably—but the way you handled it was harsh. You made me write the number on multiple sheets and hang it in my room, spoke very negatively about me, and made my siblings give me "advice" that felt more like ridicule than support. When I eventually got my real ATAR—94—it didn’t erase the emotional toll the whole experience had taken on me.

During that summer, I began to realise how unhappy I was. I questioned whether a path that was making me feel so sad, stressed, and defeated was worth pursuing. That’s when I started researching other careers like midwifery and physiotherapy—fields I actually found meaningful and interesting. Through school, I connected with alumni in those fields who gave me real insight and encouragement.

The moment I knew without a doubt that I would never pursue medicine was after your apology for what happened the night I was injured. To be honest, it felt like the worst apology I’d ever received. It lacked any real acknowledgement or remorse, and it was clear to me that you didn’t truly understand the pain I went through or your role in it. The only person who genuinely apologised was Dad—and I give him credit for not only saying sorry but also keeping his word not to let it happen again.

Mum, I know you often say your “lectures” are meant to encourage me, but many of them have felt more discouraging than anything. They’ve made me feel like other career options weren’t valid, and for a long time, I pretended to want medicine just to avoid disappointing you. After that apology, though, I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I’m thankful for everything you and Dad have done for me growing up. I know you both made sacrifices and did what you thought was best—but I also need to be honest about what’s best for me. I have no interest in attending medical school, and I have no desire to become a doctor. If I choose to continue studying, it will be in the nursing field, which I’m genuinely passionate about.

I hope you can respect and accept my decision.

My mom replied back the following:

Drama as usual. Please look in the mirror and blame yourself. Like I said earlier, I don’t care.

My dad said: I have shown ingratitude and should stop blaming other people for my inadequacies and I was rude in my message.

To conclude: Everything I said is the truth and there’s evidence for the violent act I endured, and I have numerous messages/evidence confirming the toxic things my parents have told me. My mom is also a confirmed liar. I also want to add my dad hasn’t touched me like that again (he actually got his belt and hit me over 20 times before grabbing my neck and wripping my clothes). I also want to add that in his apology he said “he would never touch me again so he doesn’t accidentally kill me”

Considering I told nothing but the truth, was I being rude to my parents?