I walked out of the parliamentary precinct in December last year, just weeks after arriving, a bundle of nerves, self-doubt, and with a well-advanced case of imposter syndrome. I was quite sure I wasn't going to be able to handle the hours, the workload, the pressures, the expectations of the role, and, frankly, I dreaded returning. Since then, though, I've spent the summer reading American psychologist and researcher Dr Brené Brown. Her book, Daring Greatly, is inspired by Theodore Roosevelt's "Man in the Arena" speech at the Sorbonne in 1910. In it, he said this: "It's not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes up short again and again, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."