We moved around a lot, so I was constantly changing schools and I struggled to maintain friendships. When they both eventually remarried, I often felt like a mistake.

How it Started

I remember the first time I tried weed. I was 14 in a small country town. I greened out and felt sick, but that didn’t stop me. At 15, while living abroad, I got drunk for the first time. At 17, I tried ecstasy and speed. The moment I felt that high, I was hooked. It felt like the cure to every wound I’d accumulated: my insecurity, pain, fear, and sense of never being enough.

From then, I drifted from my family. I lost countless jobs. Started several courses and dropped out of them all within the first year. The only constant in my life was substances. Weed, psychedelics, pills, alcohol. I was stuck on a roundabout to feel okay.

The first time I tried meth, I was told it was just smokable speed. When I started using daily, the psychosis began. First it showed up as paranoia in relationships, then beliefs that I was being surveilled. Looking back, I can see it was self-centred fear and a mind trapped in its own pain. My life spiralled into lock-ups, detoxes, psych wards, dangerous relationships, and homelessness. I never lived anywhere longer than 18 months.

At 39 — nearly two decades into daily use — I moved to northern Victoria to “get away from meth.” I isolated myself, became a baker, and numbed myself with weed and alcohol. Later, I moved back to Melbourne when a parent had a health scare. I was diagnosed with ADHD and started using pharmaceutical cannabis. I thought I was fine — as long as I wasn’t buying from a dealer. I drank multiple bottles of spirits a week and still didn’t think I had a problem.

When my prescriptions were cancelled because I was clearly misusing them, it took me less than six hours to relapse on meth. This time, my addiction accelerated. In psychosis, I used for 18 days straight, burning through my savings, barely eating or sleeping.

Then a friend took me to an NA meeting.

Finding Purpose in Recovery

I was still using, still psychotic, but I heard people tell stories just like mine. They weren’t using — and they were happy. I wanted that. I told myself I’d go home and sleep, but of course I used again. The next day, I went to another meeting and realised I needed more help. I needed rehab.

I got into rehab for 28 days. They took us to 12-step meetings every night. I connected with a psychologist and a trauma specialist. When I left, I joined a day program. Three weeks later, I was close to relapse. I could feel the ground cracking beneath me, so I went back to rehab for relapse prevention and got my 60-day tag.

After leaving, I got a sponsor. I did the suggested things, stayed connected to recovery through day program, therapy, and NA. At six months clean, I enrolled in TAFE to study Mental Health and Peer Support.

For the first time in my life, I was 18 months clean. I completed a course. I finally had proof that recovery was possible for me. I kept studying and am now in the middle of a Diploma of Community Services.

Today, I’m employed in the Alcohol and Other Drug field as a Lived Experience Peer Support Worker. I keep learning and growing. My recovery requires daily maintenance, so I stay connected to meetings, therapy, and community.

I never imagined I’d be able to study or be employable — especially because of the lived experience I carried. Then I learned about concepts like recovery capital and realised that everything I survived gives me valuable expertise. My story didn’t end where I once thought it would. Recovery gave me a life I didn’t know I was allowed to dream of.