Growing up in Albury-Wodonga on the Vic/NSW border was a mix of stability and chaos. Mum and my stepdad raised me mostly, with occasional visits to Dad and my stepmum. As a kid, my grandparents on Mum’s side signed me up for everything after school—karate, ballet, Irish tap, hip-hop, netball, tennis, piano, violin, gymnastics, singing, choir, art classes, and probably more I’ve forgotten. Four weeks in, I’d change my mind; that undiagnosed ADHD and autism were already making me restless.
Primary school was okay, with no big issues. High school was tougher—I started hanging with the wrong crowd and getting into trouble. They moved me to a school for kids struggling in the mainstream run by a theatre company. I eventually left with my Year 10 certificate.
Teen Years Unraveling
From 13 to 16, I bounced around—friends’ places, youth refuges—until I got my first little one-bedroom unit at 16. It felt good to have my own place, but when the lease ended, I wasn’t able to stay. I had to find somewhere to go. Mum had my younger siblings to think of and told me I’d let her down too many times; she said no to me coming back home.
She suggested living with Dad, who needed a place too, since he and my stepmum were getting a divorce. It seemed like a good idea—I’d be with family—but it was far from it. Soon after moving in, I saw he was using drugs. His life had taken a massive downward turn from the dad I had once known.
I had a job at the fish and chip shop, hung out with friends, and looked after my siblings on visits—cooking, cleaning, and bathing them while he got worse. One night, he offered me something as I was going out: “Here, this’ll make your night better,” and “this’ll make you money.” I said no at first—marijuana, then ice. He and his friends pressured me. Stuck with nowhere to go—Mum wouldn’t have me, and solo living hadn’t worked—I eventually gave in. Don’t get me wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t process it that way. Why would my dad, the man supposed to protect and guide me, lead me to do something so bad?
Ice gave me energy and quieted my brain. I felt calm, and my chaotic life seemed to settle for a change (ADHD masking itself). But it didn’t stay that way; it snowballed fast.
Pregnancy Hope and Relapse
I left for friends I’d met along the way and started dating a guy—we both used. We moved back and forth between Albury and Sydney until the end of 2013, when we decided to try Queensland for a fresh start. We stayed with a friend of his who “had his head screwed on.” We got sober, found jobs, and got our own place. Life was looking up. We were happy and sober.
In August 2014, we found out I was pregnant. I remained sober through to May 2015 when our daughter was born. She was perfect. I still remember the moment I first held her. But a month before she was born, her dad started worrying about surviving on one wage and my parenting payment. I tried to explain that we didn’t need all the money in the world—we just needed each other and our baby. He thought he knew best; he made some calls and went back to drugs and selling.
Postpartum hit hard—no sleep, doing it alone. I caved, chasing that energy boost again. Things fell apart quickly. He went to jail for three months; I waited for him, hoping we could get back to being those happy, sober people. It didn’t happen. We got back together, but it was the same drama and the same addiction.
One night, we left our girl with a babysitter. He led the way in his car, and I followed. Police pulled him over; he had drugs and money on him and went to the station. I drove past but got stopped as well. I had a small amount of drugs and cash, which landed me in the cell next to him. We made the heartbreaking decision to call family in Sydney to come get our daughter. We knew we couldn’t be the parents she needed. It was the hardest choice of my life, but it was the right one at the time. I was lucky enough to get out on bail, but without my daughter, I felt I had nothing left to live for. My life went from bad to horrible.
The Night That Broke It
I eventually went back to Albury-Wodonga and fell in with old faces. I ended up in a domestic violence relationship. I tried to get away, but he found me in emergency housing. He barged into my hotel saying, “Get in the car or I’ll bash you.” Filled with fear, I did as I was told. He made me do ridiculous things—following people and driving around day and night to fund drugs. With a clear head, I’d have run to the police, but fear had me trapped for years.
Late one night, he drove me down a dark country road to a random farm. He said he was going to kill me. I managed to get out of the car and run toward a farmhouse where I saw a car when I got the car I seen it had the keys in it. I tried to escape, but I couldn’t get away fast enough. I spent days tired, scared, just trying to stay alive.
We eventually left the farm, and he was driving around town when the police came up behind us. He panicked and sped off. He was worried he’d crash and end up in jail. I stupidly told him, “Swap seats, I’ll drive.” It was a dumb idea—I thought it’d keep him out of jail and keep me safe. Instead, we were both arrested. That led to my 8-year sentence.
My Thoughts Now
If I could redo it, I’d leave Dad sooner, say no to ice, and ask for help louder. I would of gone back to family when I became a young mum and had seen the warning signs of my pending downfall.
But those five years in jail? They saved me. They broke the addiction, gave me direction, and changed how I see and value myself. The same name and birthday, but a whole new person walked out of those gates.
I spent a long time feeling like I would never have a good life after jail. I didn’t think I would find employment with a record. I thought I’d be stuck in the same cycle until the end of time. But that was far from the truth.
Since coming home, I have gained employment and am growing each day in my role. I am closer than ever to my sweet little girl coming home. I have rebuilt family relationships and made good connections with friends.
I am happy and sober, reaching goals I never thought were possible.
After receiving my diagnosis of ADHD & autism I know have a better understanding on way my brain struggled to process the chaotic life I once led, and now I have a better understanding on how to manage any life struggles I face today.
It is sad I had to go so far down the wrong track before the map rerouted, but I am finally building a life I can be proud of. If you ever feel stuck, please remember: with small, consistent changes, you too can change the direction of your life.
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