I know it's often said by people in autobiographies or an excuse by drug addicts but the system really did fail me. I can recall a time where living in Sydney, I had just had enough of my mum so I packed some bags and ran away. My first point of call was my case manager at DOCS (Department of Community Services) and as I sat in the lobby at 9 am waiting for her to arrive, the nicest thing she did was let me speak to her for 5 minutes when I hadn't scheduled an appointment. Infact, that was the only thing she did for me. For the 5 minutes that she so kindly listened to me talk about how my mother was a bipolar, addict and emotionally abusive woman all she did was nod her head. Towards the end, she acknowledged my packed bags, told me she had a meeting to attend and 'wished me well.' I left the only place where someone was being paid to care about me, alone and with no where to go. After a string of events consisting of spending the only money I had at a payphone calling people looking for somewhere to stay, I wound up at my ever so dearest friend, Katie's house. I walked into a house that immediately felt like home. Despite the bongs made with empty old flavoured milk bottles and the newspapers from over three years ago lying around, Katie, her mum and step dad were more welcoming to me than my mum could have ever been, even when I first moved in with her.
For a young girl (12) this week turned into a very complicated time with constant phone calls between my mum and Katie's mum that did not go a second without yelling. And although I loved my mum, which it may seem as though I don't, I felt closer to this family in two hours than I did to my mum in 12 years. The security didn't last long because mum found out where I was and instantly, in order to protect me, Katie and I were sent to go stay with her 25 year old sister for a few days.
This stay turned out to be very interesting, to say the least. I remember arriving there. It was obviously housing commission (us houso rats can spot housing comms from a mile away.) The walls were all brick and the apartment smelt like mouldy bread and marijuana From recollection her name was Michelle and if it wasn't then it is now. Michelle lived with her fiancée who for lack of memory in regards to his name, we will call Mike and their cat which weirdly, I remember being names Mentos. Michelle and Mike slept on a mattress in the lounge room as the designated bedroom was being used as storage. Katie and I slept of the lounge together. On the second night of staying there, we were all eating in the lounge room in front of the TV which was the only thing in it's correct place. Mike muted the TV, looked at me and told Katie to go get the juice from the fridge. As she left the room, Mike nudged Michelle who responded as though she knew exactly what it was for. She then asked me in a very slow, calm and informal voice if 'I was willing to have a paid threesome with me and Mike?' Katie came back in the room, grabbed me and said 'We're going down to the shops, be back soon' and then dragged me out the door and sat me on the steps that led down the apartment blocks. She placed her hands on my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes, almost like she was looking through me. 'You're not seriously considering this are you?' 'No! of course not' - sadly though, I was at a low point in life and I really was considering it. 'Good, because you're not the first friend of mine they've asked and the other girl said yes and now, well, let's just say she won't ever come back to this part of town ever again' Thankfully, and I mean I am really grateful she said that because it scared the heck out of me and saying yes was far from likely because of that. After that, we went back to get our things and then returned to Katie's house.
A few nights there which all I really can remember was sharing her single bed discussing our dreams of perfect lives and prank calling kids helpline and I was starting to miss home. Let me make clear that I genuinely mean I missed home and not my mum. I can't recall exactly what provoked the fight but one thing led to another and I was in a screaming match with Katie. Perhaps I mentioned wanting to go home or something I said made me sound ungrateful because all I can remember is getting the absolute crap beaten out of me as one fist and the next pounded into my head. I was her punching bag and she'd obviously had practice because she was doing a pretty good job at hitting me. She grabbed my hair, pulled it towards her and laid one final punch into my chest. I locked myself in her bathroom, spitting blood down the toilet and staring into a mirror trying to fight away the tears. It felt like hours that I locked myself in there but when I looked at the clock only 20 or so minutes had passed before Katie and her mum started knocking on the door. Words were being thrown around, particularly the word 'sorry' but I was so caught up in what just happened, it was a little hard to comprehend. Eventually, I unlocked the door and just said straight out 'I want to go home.' Jane, Katie's mum didn't hesitate and quickly responded with a guilt trip trying to explain that they had done so much for me (which, really they had but my thoughts were clouded by the fact that I had just been beaten up) and that Katie really didn't want me to leave. But, after all, all I wanted was my own bed and to be alone. Jane drove me home and quickly went up to my mum and strung some bullshit story full of apologies about how she was sorry that her daughter bashed me but it's understandable after being together straight for so long. Of course, mum accepted the apology, pretended to hug me but realistically only did it to squeeze the last bit of air out of my body and pushed me through the front door.
The system really did fail me. Not only in this case, but in the future when I was still left to live in the house that made anxiety and sadness the only feelings possible to experience. And later, when I was living on the streets.
