If you have been reading my personal story from the start, you would have read that I have been diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety. While on the journey of telling everyone my life, a lot of it no one knows. I can not believe my mind convinced me to think I was happy. The mind that thinks alcohol and drugs is what makes you happy is a damaged mind. No matter how much you hide behind numbing yourself, your problems will always be there. I wish for people to reach out for help, and always know, you are not alone. Many things can alter your identity. You are the only one the can alter it the right way by talking about what you have and/or are going through.
Why did I not ask for help?
After everything that happened in ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER. From Mr M and I breaking up, losing a good friend after acting out a fantasy of mine and being asked to move out in two weeks from my room with no furniture, I found myself trapped. I never told DJ that Mr M and I broke up as I was embarrassed. “Where do you think you will go?” DJ asked. I was to scared for some reason to say that I had nowhere to go, I lied and replied, “I am going to move in with Mr M.” Once the two-week mark came along, I packed my one back pack and a garbage bag of my things that I owned. All I could think of at the time was how lucky I was not buying any furniture. I told Tara that DJ was renovating the house and asked to stay at hers for a few days. I still got myself to work and stupidly kept pretending I was going back to my place after the renovations were done.
Becoming my old self again
I found myself drinking a lot more and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. I had no money for a bond to get my own place, I would never have been able to afford the rent, as my alcohol and drugs came first to help numb everything that was happening, as well as helping to lie to everybody. There was no way in hell I was going back to Port Augusta, only so people can tell me I failed living away for the second time. When I spoke to Mum or Sherri I would always pretend that I was stable and in a good position. To be honest I really don’t understand why I was scared to ask for help, especially since I really needed it. I was becoming my old self again, never wanted to burden anyone and pretending everything was fine to save all their minds.
Putting up that stupid front
The time came for me to leave Tara’s, I took what I had with me to work that day and told her I will head ‘home’ once my shift was over. All day during work I was wracking my brain for what I needed to do. I had no money and had never really had to be alone to make decisions. Unfortunately I didn’t have my family around the corner I could just turn to like my friends back in Port Augusta. All my family were 2000 kilometers away in a different state.
After I finished work, I stuck around for a while bringing all my paperwork up to date. I then went to the change rooms and prepared myself to hit the town. I had $50 on me, but I knew I would only spend about half of it if I was to go to Mars Bar. I hid my belongings that I had away in the store-room behind everything, so no one would ask questions. I then got a work colleague to drop me off in town where I left my troubles behind me in exchange of alcohol and party drugs. I didn’t have to think about where I was going to go after the clubs closed that night. I partied until 5am then went straight to work to start my shift at 6am. I quickly got changed, washed my face and made myself look somewhat respectful. I then went on with my day putting a front on so no one could tell that I am now literally homeless.
My brains happiness, why?
Have you ever felt alone? I don’t mean alone in having no friends, but more so that you are alone in your own head. No one to reason with to help make rational decisions. With the feeling of aloneness starting to become the only friend you have, however it turns out to become your worst enemy. My mind kept telling me that it’s not that bad. Kept telling me that Alcohol and drugs are the answer. It came to a point where my own brain had starting to tell me that I was happy.
I figure happiness is not trying to find somewhere to hide and sleep at night. It’s not breaking into buildings in the city to shelter yourself from the rain. It’s not sneaking into caravan parks to use their showers. It’s not doing things you never thought you would do for money, like offering sexual favours to older men, only for them to think it was ok to leave you bruised and bloody. Then in the end not paying a cent, meaning you’re going to not eat that day/night. It’s not trying new drugs like getting addicted to meth to keep you awake at night so you don’t get bashed or robbed of your cardboard box and blanket. It’s then doing those things you were for money, but now you’re doing it for a hit. It’s not sleeping with every body that showed a slight interest while out drinking, to hope he would take care of you. It’s not getting a 14-year-old boy who is also homeless showing you how to live on the streets. However without this kid I would not have survived. Happiness is sure not finding that young kid after he committed suicide from hanging himself in your abandoned refuge.
This is what my brain thought was happiness? Why was it not telling me to use my money to find somewhere to live, to have decent food instead of everyday stealing smokes, and staple food every time I worked? Then one day I thought my troubles were going to be fixed. I had a friend Crystal from Port Augusta who was moving here and asked me to be a housemate with her and her daughter. The only thing good that came out of my brains happy way of life is that I had 24 hours access to shelter and showers. My meth addiction became worse as Crystal loved it and knew where to get it without me risking my life…..