The Valley. I get a sickening dread that starts in my gut and spreads out to engulf me if I think about my time in Fortitude Valley for too long. It was 18 months ago.
My mother had just taken me to court to get custody of my 13-month-old son, Z. In retrospect, I understand why my family did what they did, but at the time it tore me apart. Not only had I lost my son but my family disowned me as well. Before that, my family had always been supportive. To have them disown me so suddenly sent me spiralling down towards a new all time low.
I stayed at a women’s hostel in New Farm for a couple of weeks. My plan was to go to rehab from there. The hostel was pretty good. The women there were really supportive. But I think I needed more counselling than they could offer.
I was using a lot of speed and I had a raging Valium (diazepam) habit. I visited every doctor in New Farm and the Valley for my supply of vals. I usually just told them the truth about how fucked up my life was (minus the drug use) and 9 times out of 10 they would agree that Valium would help my anxiety and depression. The trouble is, taking diazepam in large doses leads eventually to even more anxiety and depression. It also causes you to forget you have a conscience, and you lie and cheat and steal – conveniently forgetting what stupid things you have done. It was kind of because of vals that I became totally homeless.
Losing my son
While I was staying at the hostel I had to attend a court hearing about my son. I hadn’t seen much of him since the first court hearing 12 weeks earlier. I had agreed that it was better for him to stay with my mother until I found somewhere stable to live. Also my mother wasn’t making contact very easy. The hearing was very depressing for me. I had no lawyer, and I felt like I had no control over anything that was happening. I felt like I got completely bulldozed. The court decided he would continue to live with my mother and I could see him six hours a week.
After the hearing, a friend took me to the pub where I proceeded to drown my sorrows. I was gobbling diazepam all night too, so I was in quite a state. I wonder why when I felt like I had no control in my life I would go out and lose all control by getting legless.
The hostel had a rule that you could only stay away two nights a week, or you had to leave. I had already stayed two nights at a friends’ room in the Valley that week. I didn’t really care if I was kicked out, I didn’t care about anything. I felt like nothing mattered anymore. I’d lost my son indefinitely and my family hated me. I ended up at a friends’ house that next morning. I felt too ashamed and depressed to go back to the hostel and explain. All my belongings were still there (two whole garbage bags).
Working the streets
My boyfriend and father of one, S., was living in a boarding house in Brunswick Street. I wasn’t really with him, but I used his place as a crash pad. I wasn’t allowed to stay there but I usually managed to sneak in and stay. Having a shower was a bit more difficult. There are no facilities for women in the Valley after hours. There are showers at the 139 Club but there is a towel deposit. I did a lot of sneaking around the boarding house S. stayed at. I was dodging the owner as well as the sleazy men who lived there and who were always harassing me with whistles and jeers – the kind of sexual harassment they think is a bit of harmless fun but is actually very insidious and degrading.
I started working on the street not long after I had to leave the hostel. Everything was going downhill so fast and I was feeling worse about myself. I was having problems with S. We were both using a lot of speed. We both suffered from speed psychosis to varying degrees. He would get abusive and I would get irrational and depressed. I decided I couldn’t stay with S. any more and started staying with a new ‘friend’ in the Valley.
He was a friend of my dealer which was convenient for me. I stayed on the floor of his lounge room the nights I didn’t stay out all night on the street. I met a couple of working girls there (they also stayed at his place). We started working together in as much as street walkers work together. Most of the women I met were pretty nice. They all had habits, more often smack than speed. I think if I hadn’t been on methadone, I would have gotten a full on smack habit again very quickly. Thank god for small mercies.
Emotional predators
I don’t like to think about the times I worked. Suffice to say, I was feeling so low, I didn’t care what happened to me. I didn’t care if I was raped (and I was). I wasn’t even really worried about getting hurt or assaulted. I got in some pretty dicey situations. But generally the guys who picked me up just wanted either oral sex or someone to talk to. Most tried to haggle over the price and most of the time I let them off $10 or $20 because I was desperate for the money to get more speed.
I liked to stay very out of it whilst working. Because I was always out of it on speed or Valium, my jerk radar was a bit out of order. I got taken advantage of constantly. Guys would play on the fact I was depressed and lonely. I trusted anyone, not caring about the consequences. I really hate those men who told me any bullshit to try and get me into bed.
I hate that I felt so low about myself that I believed those jerks when they told me they cared about my situation, that they cared about me. They preyed on my vulnerability and insecurities. I know these emotional predators would still be doing this to other women now. That’s how jerks like that work. Why stop if they’re getting what they want?
Half a brain
I also met a couple of good people. But the bottom line is – no one was going to get me out of the gutter but me. For a long while I didn’t care about my situation. I thought everything was hopeless. I didn’t want to live. I knew I shouldn’t be living how I was. I didn’t want to be working on the street. I didn’t want to be using. But when you’re in that really bad situation it is almost impossible to implement changes in your life.
Because I felt powerless and depressed, I didn’t think I could make my life better. Also, I believed I didn’t deserve any better. I felt worthless. When you use a lot of speed, it affects your decisions. When I stopped using speed, I felt like I got half my brain back. I had really been functioning on reduced capacity brain power. I eventually moved to the southside of Brisbane in a flat with S. I organised some drug counselling and stopped using.
Then I found out I was pregnant. I did some hard yards staying clean. I found a cheap flat and moved out by myself. It has been a big learning curve – for the first time in my life I have learnt to look after myself. I am learning to like myself. Now I see my two-year-old son two days a week when he comes and stays with me. I have a beautiful baby boy. My boys are my focus.
Survivor
When I think about who I was 18 months ago, homeless and using, hopeless and depressed, I fell like that was a different person. But I am trying to see the experiences I had in a positive way. I am trying to see that all those experiences make me who I am today. I am a survivor. One day I would like to go back and help the women who are homeless and lost to gain some self-respect and get their lives back on track.
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