From Homeless to Hypnotist

Ongoing story of my life

Updated 20/11/2021

I’m almost 40. Some would say “you’re so young” others would say “you’re so old”. For many years i have toiled with the idea of writing a bio. Today I decided that rather than taking on the task of writing and publishing a book (way to much pressure) I thought … I’ll start a blog page on my webpage and each Tuesday spend some time expanding out on it.

I know this to be true. There will be many typos. i will change the names of people to protect their identities. As I reflect on all these people from my past no truer words have come from my thoughts about them. Those words are ‘I thank you for coming into my life and if life said you had to go through it all again I would say BRING IT BITCH!” My mothers (both of them) are amazing people, my sister a champion, the man that beat me with a baseball bat I loved the lesson and we will catch up for a laugh again soon, my father is the teacher of wonder, an honourable man.

So here goes … Seriously I have lost count the amount of times I have started doing this and it became to hard. Memories of pain and tears of defeat. Who would’ve thought that someone who isn’t even 40 has gone through so much.

I suppose the best place to begin the story is at the beginning - but seriously who wants to go way back to the day they were born. i will start at my beginning. Where all the hopes and dreams began to get lost.

I remember getting up with a searing pain in my back like I had never felt in my life. I was 14 years old and in scouts. My mother was a cub scout leader with the local troop and I was honoured to help her and be part of the scouts. We went camping, tied knots and learnt the art of survival. I had watched GI Jane that year with Demi Moore and decided I wanted to join the army. After the army i would become a police officer and fight for all that is good in this world. We were out camping with the scout group doing a commando course. I was loving it. Jumping across dry river banks, balancing on logs, testing and growing my skills.
One of our challenges as scouts was to build a rope bridge between two trees. We took this in our stride and built a 4 meter rope bridge. Lashing it to the limbs we were proud of ourselves. After testing our scout leader was pleased with our achievement (and so were we). Later the next day we all decided to get on the ridge together. Jumping up and down laughing as it swung suddenly one end of the bridge snapped.
We spun in circles laughing. My hair was so long that I could sit on it. My hair became entangled in the rope as it whipped back and spun us around. Most of us simply fell off the bridge. Not me. My hair was entangled and the force of the rope whiplashed me to the ground with a mighty thud. Winding me. As quick as I could I jumped up and laughed it off with the others, but I knew something was wrong. My back had a searing pain in it and my left leg was completely numb.
I stood for a few moments to catch my breath and then said “I’m gunna go to my tent for a minute I’ll be back later” It was about 2pm in the afternoon. Little did I know that this was the last time I would walk.
I laid down and didn’t dare move. The strange thing was I instantly fell asleep (maybe I had a concussion) i woke the next day and I need to go to the toilet but I couldn’t feel my legs. They wouldn’t move properly. I knew I was in trouble. I called out to my mum and don’t remember the rest.
i remember being in hospital but I don’t remember how I got there. I remember being put in the childrens ward in Warrnambool hospital as I was to young for the adult ward but also to old for the childrens. I would stay in this hospital bed with traction on my legs for the next 3 months …

As I began my long journey to recover I was told I was not to get out of bed for any reason. At 14 I was about to have a wide awakening to pain, boredom and the world.
My room had a view of a chimney … 137 bricks to be exact (I counted them many times). My mum had hired a TV for me (it was a life saver). She and my sister Dionne lived an hours drive (one way) from the hospital I was in. They both made a wonderful effort to visit and comfort me.
Then a mental tragedy on my first night in hospital. I needed a poo …
I rang the bell and a male nurse came in (when I reflect back on it now he was really just doing his job but understand I came from a family where my mother openly verbalised that men were arseholes … hence my reaction) I used a bed pan for the first time a shit and urine went everywhere! I was mortified. It escalated to the bed having to be changed whilst I was still in it. That created so much pain and discomfort I thought the morphine was never going to kick in. I must also mention that I was very overweight. i had struggled with my weight from the day I arrived in this world. Being bullied and having low self esteem was not helping the situation.
After the bed was changed I laid awake for hours thinking “is this it?”.

Stephanie.

Stephanie is my cousin. She has cerebral palsy. I don’t know the exact details to her condition but having someone in the family that was in a wheelchair had already exposed me to the future limitations of my once free life.
At one stage Steph came to live with us and my mother would always refuse her to use the wheelchair - Honestly Steph could easily walk with crutches but she did however have a very lazy nature. My mother would say to her “You can take your own shoes off”. Much to Stephs disgust she would sit there and 45 minutes later her shoes would be off. With practice she got it down to 15 minutes. My mother was a tough egg but she had kindness in heart.

As i laid there my thoughts were I don’t want to be like Steph. I don’t want to have this limitation. The next time I needed to poo the male nurse bought a komodo wheelchair in. He said he had asked for permission that I can leave the traction only for “poo stops”. I has never used a komodo before and found the experience horrible and unclean.
The doctor came in on day 3 …

His name was Doctor Sundarum and I had heard that he was very “knife happy”. This petrified me as he told me I had broken my spine in 2 places and bursts 3 discs. He would perform surgery to fuse my spine and I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My mum held it together as best as she could as I said “No Fucken way!”. She was quick to tell me off (and at that age I would NEVER say that word). My heart was pounding, my eyes full of tears and my faith shattered.
All my hopes and dreams of joining the army or becoming a police officer were dashed. I was to remain in traction till the surgery (he never told me the date). The nurse said she would be back to put the semi permanent traction on my legs soon.

Traction -

Traction is no longer practiced (its proven to be ineffective) but at the time the theory was solid. By placing weights at the end of the patients legs you could pull the spine longer so the disc would pop back into its place.
The nurse came in and stuck sticky strips all the way from my hips down to my ankle, around the heel and all the way up the inner thigh to the groin (you couldn’t wear undies). This was done on both legs. At the heel there were piece of string and the weight would hang off the strings. You were to lay still and the sticky traction tape would be replaced every 3-4 days.
The tape was about 6cm in width (just like strapping tape).

I remember the nurse having a very kind nature. Learning to eat, drink and sleep still flat on my back is a whole set of skills I have mastered to this day!

A few days later the nurse came in to change the tape (a wipe down bed bath each day definitely doesn’t do the job). As she pulled back the sheet I saw all the blood. It was everywhere all down my legs. I freaked out. Seriously what else would you do! The nurse told me to look at the ceiling and stay calm whilst she examined for any cuts.

I had my period for the first time. My mum had told me about periods but I was highly distracted with other things in my life. The nurse told me I was ok and ask me about my period. Seriously i knew nothing. Yes mum had taken me through the process but its not like I had had a practice run!
The nurse said the traction needed changing and I needed a serious shower. YES! I was getting out of bed to have a shower! It was an excitement to the day.

She bought in the wheelchair, unlashed my legs and we were off. I got to see the corridor and where the toilets where. Honestly I found it exciting. In the multi bathroom she wheeled me in and I lured myself onto a shower chair. From here she ripped off one side of the traction. HOLY FUCK! I felt like someone had ripped off my skin. I pleaded with her and said “No. Please I will do this in the shower” My tears rolled down my face as I ripped the tape from my flesh. A ritual that I would end up doing every few days for the next few months. My skin would end up red raw but on the positive side the hair has never grown in those areas.

The nurse explained how I was going to have to keep my legs shut in bed to keep the period pad in place and that she would check on my every few hours to change it. It definitely wasn’t an experience I would adapt to.

A few days later the nurse came in and said the traction was to be changed again. With the fear of ripping the tape off my flesh I refused to let them do it. I was going to do it in the shower. The doctor simply said no. in my insanity and stubbornness I unleashed my legs and began to drag myself with my elbows up the hallway to the showers. If they weren’t going to help me I would do it myself!
I was almost halfway down the hallway when the nurse approached with a wheelchair asking me to climb in. I was exhausted. Drag your body with your elbows 50m on the ground. It’s a workout! I remember telling her that if she took me back to my room I was just going to start again. After some compromise (I was refusing to get in the chair) the doctor came and said I was allowed to have a shower every 3rd day and remove the traction as long as I could walk it. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!!!
Of course as Trish always does she misinterpreted the “rules”. Each day when I wanted to go to the toilet I would unlash my legs and start my trek to the loo - the doctor didn’t want me out of bed practicing! i remember sitting in bed (and just like Uma Thurman from Kill Bill) I would tell myself “wiggle your toe!”
Shower day would become a nightmare as I would rip off the tape from my skin. The nurse explained to me that because I could feel that sensation that this was a good sign. The nerves in the surface were active, even though the numbness in my legs was apparent.
Then one day I was in bed counting the bricks … again … when I had a searing pain shoot down my left leg and then a warmth of the heavens. What was happening? so painful yet so nice. A jolt from my lower spine creating discomfort … and then … pins and needles from hell … breathe trish … I was ventilating with breath … What was happening? is it going to stop? will it get worse? A million thoughts in seconds. After what felt like an eternity I was left with pins and needles in my left foot. A sensation of extreme annoyance. The only thing to do was move! it was as though a miracle had occurred. I started wriggling my toes. The shock and overwhelm in my mind is something you cannot explain. Once I started wriggling my toes I wasn’t stopping. The pins and needles subsided and then my whole leg was warm as if it had been touched by an angel. Instantly my right leg responded as if it was just waiting for the command to do so. Just like a soldier waiting patiently for orders. I pulled my legs up towards my chest and hugged them.
From here as much as the miracle had occurred I was in for a new level of tough. My legs had come good but my back was now constantly in pain (before it was numb … i couldn’t feel a thing). Sleepless nights, discomfort and drugs. SO MANY DRUGS!
My father didn’t visit me much but when he did it made my day. I idolised my dad. As a child I couldn’t understand why he didn’t visit much - But as an adult I know he wasn’t coping. He had cheated on my mum and step mum.

The step mum - Cheryl
Cheryl was a woman that had unconditional love that resonated from her. She wore her heart on her sleeve. An independent and strong woman with a typical stereotype of low self love. She was hungry to learn (but back in those days you didn’t do much education - you worked the same job, retired and died - simple).
She met my dad Raymond whilst she was working in a deli (I don’t know the exact story but will tell all I do know). From my interpretation Raymond was her prince charming. he bought her gifts, made her feel special and said all the right things. Then suddenly she finds out he has a child to another woman at the young age of 22 (something that was a bit taboo back then) but let’s take a moment to remember that she was in love and as you do when your in love - you take on the obstacles.
In early 1983 Cheryl (aka mum) and dad won full time custody of me. My biological mother Wendy basically didn’t show up for court. In the 80s a man would never win a custody case over preference for the mother. The judge simply said “Well the child has to go home with someone”.
Cheryl had the family she dreamed of - if she knew back then what she knows now I have to wonder if i was worth it. The nightmare was just beginning.
She had won custody of a child aged 2. A child that had been beaten and abused that would test her beyond her sanity. A child that was so scared to trust that she would continue to work on destroying it long into her 20’s.
Cheryl was told she wouldn’t be able to have children but in 1984 my sister Cindy came into the world. After 7 days of labour my mother finally succumb to surgery to bring Cindy into the world. Cheryl wanted a natural birth that wasn’t to be.
The dream was complete. They got married when they found out Cindy was due (no way was she having a child out of wedlock). They were building a house with 2 kids and both worked. What else was there? life was complete …

I could finally feel my legs. The physical external was fine but the internal was damaged. Cheryl had become very protective and constantly reminded me that I couldn’t do things. This lead to me gaining more weight, relentless bullying at school and a constant battle of the bulge. and I forgot to mention whilst all this was going on my father ran of with my mothers best friend Barbara. The dream was a mess.

I knew that my father had run off with Barb but I tried my best to keep them apart. One day I walked around the back of the van and here was dad and Barb kissing. As quick as lightning I dashed around the front of the van and made noises so they could hear I was coming. When mum came home I immediately told her and was greeted with a beating from hell. She hit me in the left hip with the vacuum cleaner poll and screamed at me for lieing. The thing she hated most about people were liars, thieves and cheats. I became all three after that.

I cant blame mum for hating me so much. I was the child to the man she loved that she got left with. I bullied her beyond her sanity. Breaking all the rules and manipulating thoughts and words.

By now Cheryl (mum) was showing the stress. She had been a cub scout leader for most of her life and had decided to shut it down. During those years she made good friends with Rachael and Edward. Rachael and Edward had two sons. Cheryl relied heavily on Rachael’s friendship. Every night after school my sister and I would go to Rachael’s house and stay there till mum came to pick us up.
Edward had been diagnosed with cancer and passed away 2 weeks later on my sisters birthday. None of us told Cindy as we tried to pretend that all was ok - but she knew it wasn’t.
Rachael would eventually move on to find a new husband name Anthony - this would lead to the thinning of Cheryl and her friendship as the attention shifted. We had spent many years hanging at Rachael’s house with her two sons - they were basically our brothers. My mum had grown very close to Rachael’s youngest son Matthew.
Matthew was very close to his dad Edward and had taken his death very hard. He started skipping school, smoking, having angry outbursts and stealing. One day one of mums sapphire and diamond rings went missing. Matthew had given a girl a ring and the girls mother had rang Rachael saying it was a very expensive ring and asked how Matthew could've obtained it at only 16yrs old. Later that day mum asked me if I had seen the ring and I said no. With a mighty force she grabbed me by the scruff and screamed in my face to stop lieing as she slapped me across the mouth. I went flying into Rachael’s garden. As I scurried away and hid under the tree sobbing I heard her drive away. Rachael found me and had explained to her about how Matthew had given a girl an expensive ring but neither mother wanted to admit that one of their children may have been a thief. All I know is - it wasn’t me.
Matthew and I drifted from then.

Fast forward 2 years I was 18 and I decided I was buying a house. The first home buyers had just been introduced and all I needed was $2500 as a deposit. I asked my grandmother Daisy to lend me the money on the proviso that I paid it back at $50 a fortnight. She agreed. The house was located on the corner across from Rachael’s place. Rachael had only just met Anthony then and you could see the friendship between her and mum starting to dwindle. Mum and I hadn’t been that connected since the incident but we kept the peace. We decided that we would rotate each Thursday and have dinner at each others house. I grew tired of this fast when it came to me going to her house and having to cook. Cindy was still living at home. She had had some major health issues and was diagnosed with CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome).Back then we didn’t know much about it and many (including me) thought she was just lazy. She had failed year 12 due to lack of attendance and Cheryl was taking her to every specialist under the sun to get a diagnosis and then treatment.

Rewind:

I graduated year 12 in November 2019 (by the following February I would buy my house and study to become a remedial massage therapist). I had the shit kicked out of me at school for being the fat kid. At one stage I had a job on Fridays where I would go around and clean houses for the elderly and they would pay me $10 cash an hour. I would then take this money and buy groceries or pay off bills around town (my mum was a hard worker but the bills where bigger than the pay check - I think my mum knew but she didn’t question).
I can proudly say these days she was a good mum (though back then I couldn’t see it). All I saw was a woman that pushed me aside to dote on Cindy. I was so jealous of Cindy. She had a slender body, mouse blonde hair and blue eyes. She could control her eating, had a million friends and was smart. I was fat with limp brown hair and had anger issues. I wanted to be Cindy so badly …
For my year 12 formal I sew together a black jacket. I was to big to buy normal clothes so I stitched together a full length jacket and wore that. I was very proud. I was told that I wasn’t invited to the year 12 class break up - I knew where it was being held but didn’t tell my mum there was a party as she was going through enough. My year 12 formal was at Nelson (about 30minutes drive from where I lived) We all got on the bus to head out there. Mum and Cindy would come later for the dinner.
I sat with no friends by myself - you see what happened was I had my best friend at the time kiss me on my birthday - I was so upset about the thought of being gay that I bullied her and she had easily recruited everyone in the class to her side (I was an angry bitch so it wasn’t hard with the way I was acting) the class had made it very clear I wasn’t welcome and was an outcast.
I had dinner - No mum or sister. I got and award for wood work - No mum or sister. The formal ended - No mum or sister. One of the girls in my class knew what my family was going through as my mum and her mum were friends (but she didn’t associate with me as her mother told her she was not to be my friend as I was a bad influence) I waited at the gates and Kylie asked me “Do you need a lift Trish?” I said no that mum was on her way … she wasn’t … My sister had an episode of crying with her CFS and couldn’t stop (and still till this day I fucken hate her for it! she couldn’t even suck it up for one night!)
I walked home as far as I could in my fancy shoes before hitching a ride with a stranger. I remember hearing my mums voice as I waved down a car in the dark - saying “Don’t hitch they may be a murderer”. I would’ve taken the murderer that night. When I arrived home I climbed in through my bedroom window and wept myself to sleep. I remember my mum waking me the next morning and apologising for not being there and said she would Thank Kylies mum for bringing me home. I dunno what happened there to be honest but nothing was ever said again.
I could go on and on about bullying at school. From the time a girl put red pain on my seat and laughed loudly as she said “fatty patty got her rags” and I ran out crying from the classroom to the time I got into a fist fight on the school bus. But how long do we want this story to be? maybe I’ll touch on those later.

Back to the house:
I moved into my home and yes even my mum and sister helped me move stuff. I was proud and ready to live my life. I had gotten a job at Woolworths in the liquor department and was studying to be a remedial massage therapist. The only thing that had helped me walk again was a monthly massage from a local lady and I wanted to make other people feel as great as I did.
I setup a massage table in the spare room and worked part time between shifts. I graduated with high honours and lived peacefully in that house for many years.

Rachael had been going through a lot of dramas with Matthew. I still popped over to her place when I saw my mums car there to say hello. One day Matthew stormed out as I was coming up the road. He was furious. I stopped him and asked “Where are you going?” He yelled at me “Like anyone cares” I said to him “Remember I love you, just be safe ok!” “OK” he grunted as he stormed off.

Cheryl had to head off to work as she was doing a sleep over (she worked in aged and disability care and was staying the night with a client). The next morning I got a phone call from the hospital. On the way home Cheryl had misjudged a truck whilst cutting back into the lane. The truck hit the car at 80km an hour and forced it to lunge into the air then roll 9 times across and into a paddock. She was in the hospital with major spinal injuries.
I raced to the hospital - Cheryl has a severely bruised spine but with rest she would be ok. All she was worried about was who was going to look after Cindy. I told her Cindy could come live with me till she could come home. During the next two weeks Cindy would get a rude wake up call as she was now living with me and having to learn quick smart to grow up.
Cindy approached me and asked me to help her find a flat. Of course I said yes! I was proud she was moving out of home. We had a look at a few and she told mum all about it. Mum blamed me for it all.
One night I was coming home from a late shift at woolies. It was 40 degree heat and almost midnight. I could hear Matthew playing his music in the shed (the whole neighbourhood could hear it) it was on repeat as well - When angels deserve to die by the system of the down.
It was about 6am when I heard the blood curdling screams of Rachael from across the street. Anthony had found Matthew had hung himself in the shed. He had tied the perfect hand mans noose - A knot that we all got taught in scouts. No note, no reasoning why … just gone …
My mum idolised him and I now had to go tell her. Cindy was in Geelong at the time. I rang her and she was devastated. I asked her not to tell mum as I didn’t want her to go through it alone whilst she was in hospital. I arrived at the hospital with the other neighbour from next door Rose. She wouldn’t let me drive to the next town (that where the hospital was) in the state I was in.
As the eldest child it was my responsibility to tell mum about Matthew and it was the only time in my life I couldn’t speak. Rose told her and she screamed a scream that will resonate in my memories for the rest of my life. A scream of pure pain.
”I’m going home” she said as she strained to get out of bed. She hadn’t recovered from her injuries but she was going home. After some negotiation with the doctor she was allowed out for a few hours to go see Rachael and then she was to be back before 5pm. Cindy came home as well.

It was a closed cask funeral as Matthew had broken his jaw when he jumped to hang himself and his eyes had popped out. I was shown the photos and I asked Rachael to not show mum or my sister. They would never recover. Still to this day I cannot watch a hanging scene in movies. The funeral was huge and my mum did not cope well. She had been let out on day release to attend the funeral and it was probably a good thing she was back in the hospital by that night. I don’t believe she ever recovered from the loss.

I was about to turn 21. Still no friends, but Cindy was determined to throw me a party. It was great. All her friends were there and I got told off when I changed the music to something I liked. So I left without anyone noticing. It was a great night - I think … Well nobody told me it wasn’t.
Cindy told me she was moving to Geelong and going to live with our dad whilst she did some studies. Again I was jealous. As her new life rolled on I popped in every few weeks to hang with her. Night clubs, music, dancing … it was great! Till I realised I was the lacky … the taxi … the bag carer … the drink holder … the one night stand, come get me the next morning driver.
I decided to pack up my life and move to Geelong to study hairdressing and have a crack at the big smoke. I rented out my house and off I went.
One night whilst working at woolies I met Stuart. He was a customer and asked for my phone number. I thought it was a prank and some how he coerced it from me. We started texting. It was my first real interests from a guy. I was tickled pink and falling fast. At 24 I was extremely lonely and you guess it … still never been kissed (let along anything else). The guy I had a crush on all my life went off with one of my sisters girlfriends. I was so happy for them - I admit I felt like I had missed the wagon but secretly I loved how happy they were together and admired them from a distance.
Stuart came over one night and the inevitable happened. Wow if this was sex was like I was happy to skip it for the rest of my life … boring!!! nothing like the movies! The thing was Stuart came over and had never intended to leave and I was to shy to ask him to leave.
After a week of fun awkwardness I went down to the local IGA - By now I was living in Port Arlington - A quiet beach town about 15mins drive from Geelong. As I exited the local IGA I saw a sign. WANTED BY POLICE: information about this man that had physically assaulted a staff member at the IGA. It was Stuart. I didn’t know what to do. My brain went “Just go home it’s not your problem” but my morals said “Trish you have to do the right thing”. So I did. I told the owner I knew who the man was and where he lived. We called the police and I had to wait for them to arrive from Geelong. I told them I would meet them at my house as Stuart had never shown violence towards me.
I got home and told Stuart I was making stir fry and went down stair to start cooking. He yelled “make me a coffee!” I yelled back “Make your own dam coffee!” … He stormed down stairs and grabbed me around the throat. He spat in my face and said “Make me a god damn coffee bitch” I agreed. I grabbed the coffee jar looked him straight in the eyes and smashed it into the left hand side of his face and knocked him out.
Immediately I panicked thinking I killed him. He was K O on the kitchen floor with blood coming from his head. I grabbed a towel and held it over the wound till the police arrived. It was a long night in the police station being questioned.
Stuart got off easy. He was in the hospital and couldn’t remember anything. Not even who I was. I packed up his limited things into his duffel bag. Took them to the hospital and walked out. A year later I would see Stuart at a bar at a pub I was playing poker at. When I saw him I freaked out as he had a scar on his face. His friends were trying to convince him to play poker and he was slurring that his memory wasn’t good enough to learn. He sat at my table. Played a few hands whilst I pretended to not know him, lucked out and left. That was the last I ever saw of him.
One night I was going through the history on my computer and I came across Stuarts dating profile on a web page called plentyoffish.com. I figured I was lonely and shy and If I got to know someone online first perhaps they wouldn’t mind being with a fat chick. So I signed up.

Instantly I was bombarded with men wanting boob picks. I kept telling myself that you have to keep looking. If you want to find the diamond you have to dig through the dirt. One night a man named Lex contacted me. After a few weeks and some talks on the phone I agreed to travel to Melbourne to meet him. I recognised him instantly at the train station and instantly I thought “You photoshopped your pictures” but then he took my hand and walked me around the city. I was smitten. His mother was a hard worker like me and very honest. Lex I can say was my first true love (besides from my crush in school). But something about Lex just didn’t sit right with me. I could never put my finger on it. As time went by I decided to move back to my home town of Heywood as I needed to be closer to my family. My family hated Lex but he took the plunge and moved with me (6 hours away from his). Just 4 months later he went back to Melbourne to visit his mum for mothers day and didn’t come back. That was when things started to unravel.

Lex was a con man. Stealing, cheating and lying. The part that sucked for him was I had all the evidence against him (though I didn’t know it at the time). Lex scammed money, sold drugs and was into some really bad stuff. I wont go into to much detail but after a lot of threatening emails to kill me he is the one that ended up on parole.

During these 4 months I had an idea to buy a business with a friend Katrina. After months of work we were approved to buy and ready to open the doors.

A week before we were due to open I was sitting at the poker table. I got up to get a drink and a very handsome man named Shaw asked me if I was the new owner of the games and dvd shop. I said yes and we would open up in a few days after some renos. He told me how he was looking for work and he was the man for the job. I was only half listening as I had received a text message from an anonymous number saying “I like your blue Hyundai”. I knew who it was from and that trouble was in the darkness. I turned to Shaw and said “I don’t have any work at the moment. I can’t stay and talk”. He must’ve picked up that something was wrong and gave me his number saying “If you need help at anytime call me”. I thanked him and ran off.
I drove home. Locked all the doors and sat in bed petrified out of my mind that someone was coming to get me.

The day came around to open the shop. We were pumped and excited. Everyone was helping out. Katrina worked in the mornings and I did the afternoon shift. One weekend on, one weekend off. Katrina had her children help her and I would do my best on my own. On day 3 (it was a Monday) Shaw came into the shop and said “You haven’t rang me”. Being a very independent woman that is rather abrupt I responded with “I haven’t needed any help”. The shop was busy and Shaw stayed for 4 hours fluffing around. All I thought was “I got one of those annoying customers that never leaves - go me!”. I got a phone call at the shop - It was a man breathing heavily then he said “the light out the back is broken” and hung up. When I came into the shop that afternoon I had noticed that the light above where we parked our cars for work was broken. My mind flipped!

Shaw turned to me and said “Would you like to come and shoot pool with me tonight?” I was shocked and replied “What? you wanna be seen in public with someone like me?” (even just writing this I remember that girl with no self esteem). Shaw laughed and said “I’ll come back at 7:30 and pick you up” as he strolled out of the shop. Again my mind flipped! We shut shop at 7 and I got a txt message from an unknown number saying “I’m waiting for you”. Needless to say I was petrified about being attacked and shit scared about going to pool comp with Shaw.

7pm came around and I quickly shut the shop. I didn’t bother finalising the till as all I wanted to do was get home to Heywood (The shop was in Portland and Heywood was 20 mins drive away). With my heart racing I took a deep breathe at the back door, crouched down (in case someone was going to shoot me in the face) and opened the door. As I did I heard “Come back you fucken coward!” being yelled down the alley way. A minute later Shaw walked up the alleyway with a baseball bat saying “Their was a creep sitting on the bonnet of your car with this!” He handed me the baseball bat. After some discussion I worked out that it was Lex’s mate Joey. That had done time in prison together. After this event I never heard anything from Lex or Joey ever again. It seemed like they wanted a hero moment and when it failed they just dropped it.

Shaw took my hand and started leading me to the pub to play pool, talking as if nothing had happened and I was safe. I have to admit I always felt safe when he was around. At the pub I met a woman named Erika. I thought she was lovely till later that night (after many laughs and drinks) she came up to me and said “Shaw’s mine! Back off!” - Talk about Jekyll and Hyde. As far as I was concerned Shaw was my first real friend and nothing more. As Erika walked off and said goodnight I asked Shaw to tell me the story of his lovely friend. He laughed and referred to her as horse face. Needless to say his view of her was much different to hers.

The following weekend I had off. At 1am in the morning I received a picture txt from Shaw of a bowl of pink ice-cream with the message “You want some?”. I was confused and responded with “I think you txt the wrong person. This is Trish.” (geez was I blind about intention). Shaw messaged back saying “Your a funny one. Seriously do you want to come over and have some ice-cream I only have pink left” Needless to say I went to his place for ice-cream. As the weeks and months went by Shaw and I became best friends (with benefits). I refused to believe that he was anything more than that. Then one day I met Shaw’s friend Steven. He was like prince charming. Sweet and gentle. We hit it off like a house on fire. One day Steven and I were hanging out and he said “I have met you before and when I did I wished I would see you again”. I was taken aback - as we delved into memory Steven and I had both applied for the same job 10 years earlier and we chatted in the waiting area. We got along like a house on fire then (I remember thinking he was cute back then).

Steven and I started hanging out. Nothing was set in stone and I wasn’t committed to anyone. One night at poker Shaw pulled me aside and said “We are not boyfriend and girlfriend. Do you realise this?” I agreed. Steven popped in late to poker and we ended up going drinking and dancing with a group of mates afterwards. At 3am when the club was due to close Steven and I spilled out onto the street laughing and carrying on. Suddenly Shaw was their. He took my car keys and said “I’m driving you home” in a stern voice. Being drunk I complied. Shaw drove me back to Heywood and took my car. The next day I txt him asking where my car was and he drove it back asking if I wanted to stay at his place for the night as I was working in Portland the next day. I agreed.

I was texting Steven saying how great a time I had and we needed to do it again when Shaw said to me “You know your my girl” - I was shocked. What had just happened? The night before I was told I wasn’t in a relationship and now suddenly I am? Shaw went on to tell me how he didn’t realise I was hanging with Steven so much and when he saw me out with him he felt jealous and upset. He had been at the club that night and apparently spent the whole night watching me (honestly I should’ve gotten alarm bells then, but I didn’t). From that moment on I was known as “Shaw’s Girl”. I was honest with Steven and we remained “cautious” friends as Shaw got jealous on many occasions and one time even slashed Shaw’s car tyres because we had been joking together at the pub during pool comp.

2 years of immature happiness and suddenly my business was going under. I turned to Steven for help. He ran a small grocery store and knew what to do. As I sat down with all the paperwork he said “You have to go bankrupt” I didn’t even know what bankruptcy was. I was devastated. Katrina left me with the business full time and for 12 months I deviated all the debt collectors. My cousin and his wife stepped in to help me a few times but to no avail. I was done. Working 12hr days, 7 days a week took its toll. 3 months before making the decision to go bankrupt I came home and Shaw was gone. All the furniture and everything … gone. No word, no contact … he was just gone. I fell to my knees in tears. We hadn’t argued or anything. I never took work pressures home and we were always laughing and having a good time. He spent most of his time at the shop playing video games and hanging out. One of his poker friends Henry suggested he move in with me to help with the rent till I sorted out the shop. I agreed.

Henry moved into the spare room and it was like having a big brother. A week later he hadn’t paid rent, was eating all the food and leaving a mess. 2 weeks later the same … 3 weeks later the same … 4 weeks later he had met a girl and I threw him out telling him to go mooch off her. That night I turned on my computer and Henry’s profile was signed in with 1,000s of messages from Shaw. Henry had moved in to keep tabs on me for Shaw whilst he had run off to another state a met another woman. My heart was ripped about again. I read all the messages and signed out. I was done.

Upon this I submitted defeat. I signed for bankruptcy and began shutting down the shop. The papers were lodged on the Tuesday and by the Monday everything was repossessed and gone. Including my house and everything in it. I had managed to store some stuff in a friends garage but I was officially homeless and penniless. I wasn’t eligible for Centrelink at the time as I had no permanent address and I had to wait 8 weeks for an assessment. I sat on a bench down at the beach as the sun went down thinking “This is my first night on the streets” - It was July - Winter.

The first night was a blur. I walked the streets pondering about life and how I got to where I was. I was sitting in the gutter crying and I decided to ring my mother for help. She didn’t know what I had gone through. Their was no way in hell I was admitting to my mother or father how badly I had failed, but the gig was up! The conversation went EXACTLY like this:
Trish beside herself crying in tears in Portland - Mum 20mins drive away in Heywood.
”Mum it’s Trish. Can you come get me. I’m in trouble and need help”
”I’m already in my pyjamas. Whatever it is you’ll sort it out” - hangs up
Needless to saying the tears of despair ran from my eyes bigger than ever before.

On the Wednesday I had a meeting as I had a requirement that I had agreed upon when filing for bankruptcy. I was to attend 10 group counselling meetups as part of suicide prevention. My “watcher” or “buddy” as they called themselves was Kent. He was to ensure that I attended the meetings and check in. I told him on the first night “I don’t have the courage to kill myself. So you wont have to worry”


my home
the pills
the bat
the streets
the bridge
the angel of death and life
the depression - (footy)
the cheat
the deception of good (box)
choose a side - drugs