#floods2022

Part 3: You can read part 1 here and part 2 here of the flood story.

After the flood, the rescue, the clean-up and the beginning of recovery, I was feeling really worn out. I had been running on adrenaline and shock, mostly in survival mode. Not really taking in what was going on around me, feeling tense, exhausted, stress, overwhelmed and worry. 

Visiting the flood house each day was tough. There was the overwhelming amount of work that had to be done, yet not knowing where to start. It took a lot of energy to feel motivated. I mean, literally each morning was a struggle to begin, and then during the day we’d find something else that needed attention, and yet found it consistently difficult to begin that task or keep focus. 

The rollercoaster ride of emotions changed quickly. 

Visiting the house felt like revisiting the experience of having the water rise through the house. Reminding me how lucky we were to be safe and healthy, yet also how much we’d lost during that day and the time since. Our security, our safe place, our routine, our expectations of our future, the struggles we each endured personally and together. 

After a week, I knew I had to start taking breaks from the flood house.

Over the weekend I decided that on Monday, a week after the flood, I would not visit the house. That Monday I began to feel a sense of relief. I could breathe a little. I could begin to find a sense of normality. I could start to get my thoughts in order.

Alex wanted to go to work, check in with her colleagues and I needed their internet, it was a match made in heaven. The office was buzzing, and a lot of that buzz was community support, not sales. It felt good to be around folks, folks who had come to the house to help the week earlier, and folks who had compassion, support and smiles for us. While Alex caught up on a few things, I went over some assessments, and got them submitted for marking. Something preflood and normal was happening. Something, that after the flood, meant life wasn’t completely ruined. I could see that there was a possibility of moving forward, baby steps.

On Tuesday (flood day +8) I had my first day back in class. The campus was being used as an evacuation centre, so except for the flood day, there hadn’t been any classes to attend online or in person. Apparently upwards of 500 people were sleeping at the campus, in corridors and in classrooms.

I was happy to be back, again continuing my break from the flood house and showing me life could go on without the mud, mess and mayhem.

It was a very emotional day. 

Hugging my classmates, retelling our story, I found it all so very overwhelming, yet therapeutic. There were tears, in class and out of class. There was connection with my classmates. My goodness that class is a supportive bunch, and I was so glad to be in their presence that day.

There was an underlying thing going on with me that week too. It was building slowly since the flood, bubbling under the surface. I had come home to support and help Mum, and yet here I was carrying yet another pile of her wet stuff out to the front lawn to be collected, not the kind of help I was envisioning when I left Europe. I felt like I had let her down. 

I hadn’t protected her.

I was also feeling crappy about letting Alex’s car get flooded. It’s her safe space, she has her independence and “me” time when driving the car. Now she had to rely on others to get her around, she had less decompression time after work. Also, this was not how I expected our 2ndyear here to kick off with, a flood and displacement.

All that weight really, really hit me hard. I was starting to feel the pressure on myself, I know that the girls didn’t blame me for anything, it was me blaming me. I was being hard on myself, but I couldn’t shake these feelings for a while there. 

That first day in class I got to talk with my classmates and teachers about my feelings. They all did their counselling jobs just right, listening and letting me talk it out. It’s taken several more weeks to learn to take it easier on myself, and realise I’d done the best I could, and there wasn’t much else I could have done at the time. 

To be honest, I think I have always found it easier to forgive others than to forgive myself. Another self-healing process to work on in the future.

I’m grateful for my classmates, a room full of counsellors, and teachers who supported me and helped me in the weeks after the flood. I’ve been told I showed great strength by turning up to class, and they gave me a safe space to work through the trauma. 

On those days I felt like giving up, they reminded me take it “one day at a time”. Damn it, that saying keeps coming back to bite me in the ass. Thank you, guys.

As I got to upload some of my assessments, I was up to date, in fact I was a little bit ahead, which gave me some study breathing space too, and I focused on what was most important at the present moment of each day.

To take even more pressure off, I decided to focus on just a few things for the coming weeks. Help myself, Alex and Mum, and to finish my studies. Until I graduated and we had a long-term roof over our head, nothing else was of importance. I cut back on even more from my “to do” list. I took stock of what we’d been through and worked on finding gratitude in what had happened. We were safe.

During that second week, I got a haircut too. Wow, another normal regular thing that felt amazing to get done. I started to post a few things on social media, getting the word out about the flood, the house and how we were. The responses from everyone were really heart-warming. I even had a message from my ex-wife, we hadn’t had contact in many years, and I felt really privileged she reached out. Thank you, C, for reaching out to us.

We had to start looking for a long-term solution to our living arrangements. We couldn’t stay as we were forever. Alex, BB Junior and I at Sophie’s, Mum at one cousin’s and Ruby at another. The original ideas we had to rent from a family friend fell through, so we got on the case to find a rental. 

Within 24 hours we got approval for a 12-month contract, in a 3-bedroom house in Ocean Shores. Maybe the last one available as everything was getting snapped up quick. We didn’t even view it before signing, we knew we couldn’t wait another moment. The house is located close to the shops, so Mum can walk anytime she wants. 

I visited a laundromat with Alex that week.

Even though friends and classmates had taken washing for us, we still had a lot of personal stuff that needed doing, it needed that muddy smell and mould to get washed and dried off. I hadn’t stepped inside a laundromat in many many years, and Alex thought it must have been way back, since her New York times. We survived the busy Sunday morning wash n dry session and had fresh clothes for the coming (rainy) weeks.

As Alex’s car was an uncertainty, we weren’t sure any repairs could get it back on the road, we had talked about buying another newer car. The second-hand car prices had gone up dramatically since the flood, and I wanted Alex and I to have a win, something to look forward to, feel joy and gratitude. So we found a small run around car, a new one, from MG that she really liked. We arranged a test drive and next thing you know we are ordering a brand-new car. There was a very nervous smile on Alex’s face as she signed, neither of us had ever owned a new car before.

It was really great to have a win that week. To do something for our future. Something to focus on that brought us joy. Something to look forward to, to own, to use. It’s ours. (Although it won’t be delivered until May).

On Wednesday (flood day +16) the first assessor came to the flood house. It wasn’t a fun appointment. They had told Mum she needed to throw out more items (literally everything touched by water) and I arrived with her going through more of her parents’ items. We had to relive the whole flood and clean up again.

Not only that, but our life of trash was also being picked up from the front lawn at that time. So here we were rushing to get things out as trucks and other machinery were outside throwing things out. Not an easy time, one I’d rather not have.

It took another week before we could move Mum into the new rental place. We had to find a bed, and furniture. I reached out to my classmates, who helped with some donations: furniture, a fridge, and one of my closest high school friends gave us a bed and other items. Within a week we had pretty much all the basics ready to go. 

Mum moved in on Thursday (flood day +17). She would have a couple of nights on her own, before I moved in with BB, and then Alex last. By Monday (flood day + 21) we were living under the same roof again. It was another phase of adjustment. 

Ruby moved in a week later, you know the cat Queen needs everything in order before she arrives.

A new house, new items in the house, new living arrangements, a new “us”. 

3 weeks of separation, disconnection, wasn’t easy on us. Moving into a new smaller house, figuring out how to live together under different circumstances, hasn’t been a straightforward adjustment. We had gotten quite used to living together before the flood, and now we had to relearn, in a new place, under stress. 

It hasn’t been smooth sailing. 

We all want the best of for each other, and I’m sure under different circumstances it would be easier, but we were forced into this situation, a stressful situation, and now must figure ourselves out.

But I have to say, living under the same roof again has been good. I missed Mum terribly during those 3 weeks. I worried about her too. 

The ups and downs during those first 3 weeks started to even out. We had some wins, and a place to live made all the difference. Having a bed was even better. 

I can’t speak for the girls, but after that deep dive my mental health took in that 2-3 week period, I started to find gratitude in small things. I had gotten a bit slack with that, but these days I find the taste of coffee, the smile of my wife and the purr of my cat are all I need to feel good. 

Everything else is the icing on the cake.

Thanks for reading

Josh

Part 2.... Read part one "When The Levee Breaks", here

As the sun went down on the day of the flood, I was relieved we were finally dry, in a house that wasn’t flood affected; we were all safe.

We knew the floods were high in the area, but up until that evening we’d been focusing on survival in our own world. We watched some news footage of other areas that night, shocked at how high the water got, and how it was likely to get higher overnight. We heard statistics and stories of rescues, despair and losses, something we continue to hear now, weeks later.

In some cases, the water was almost 3 meters higher than the worst flood on record, covering 100s square kilometres. That’s a hell of a lot of water, many homes thought to be safe from such devastation, like ours, are no longer safe.

1000s of families displaced.

I don’t remember falling asleep the evening of the flood.

The next morning, Tuesday (or flood day +1), we didn’t know if we could even get to our house, let alone if there was still any water inside, and if so, how much. By 9:30am we were around at the house assessing the damage and figuring out clean up.  

I guess in a way, it felt like the day before, like a dream. A really bad dream.

The carpets were stinky, wet, and squishy under foot. The mud, the smell, the mess, and the walls that were already starting to warp. Things like towels originally used in attempt to stop the water coming in under doors, now soggy, brown, and heavy. It was very overwhelming.

We didn’t know where to start. Shock and disbelief were all we felt.

It was a huge undertaking we weren’t prepared for, with the added “bonus” that we had no communication with the outside world. Major internet cables were damaged south of us, and local phone towers weren’t working. It would be about a week before communications in our area were back up and running. Not what one needs when there’s a national disaster happening. 

We would have rather been available to help others, but we weren’t in that position. 

Thankfully, my cousins were there to help begin clearing things out as best we could. We needed to hose out the garage and house, to get the mud out, so it would be safe to walk around. Mud sure is slippery stuff. After the mud was cleared in the garage, we could start moving items out there, and then begin in the inside of the house. 

We managed to get the “flood” car started. However, by Wednesday it had died again. It took 6 weeks to get various repairs done on it, including a new CPU, before it was road ready. Thankfully, Dave didn’t give up, he spent countless hours and energy getting the old girl cleaned and running. 

Knowing where to start is tricky, and when you’re in shock it’s even harder. At least that’s my experience. If we did start somewhere, it was easy to get distracted by the things found, damaged or lost, to the brown murky water. The first week clearly showed me neither myself, nor Mum, were in a position to make decisions, but through the tears we tried.

There were moments when I walked from room to room in a daze. Not really taking in what had happened, not sure where to start on the mess, and not sure what to feel. Anytime someone asked “what can I do?” it usually ended with either of us crying, just overwhelmed with what tasks lay ahead.

The house has an extension, a storeroom and bathroom built on the back, which can only be entered from outside. I had forgotten about these rooms the first few days of clean up, but when I remembered I checked them out. The water had risen higher than we thought and moved things around. I had items from before I left Australia 20+ years ago out there, such as a box of photos and an old esky filled with my belongings, both wet. 

I still haven’t opened them.

The bathroom had a lot of the pool stuff in it which is, well, waterproof, but now it was full of mud, and slippery and yucky. It either had to be cleaned up or thrown out. But to be honest, would you want to use something that had sat in sewer and pesticide water for a day or two? A task just too big for Mum and I to contemplate at first, it would have to wait.

It happened all the time that first week, walk through a room and be reminded of what we missed, what wasn’t put up high, that is now lost to the flood. As we shuffled items from room to room and tried to clean up, completely overwhelmed with the losses, and the amount of work still to be done. 

I checked a large wooden box in my room that I thought was waterproof, it was too big to put up high. Inside there was another plastic box, and in that I found about 400 family photos, from back in the day, wet and soggy. Bursting into tears and kicking myself for being so silly as to not check inside that box the morning before the waters rose, Alex took the photos. Gently she peeled them, while they were wet, and placed them all out to dry. Later her colleagues took some home to place with a dehumidifier, around 98% were salvaged. 

Photos of Dad, Mum, my grandparents from their younger days, and baby photos of me and my siblings, photos of shows I have played, all saved. That was a good moment. Thanks Alex, J and S.

Anyone that came by, didn’t have the emotional attachment, and they got the job done. Mum and I would bawl at the sight of grandma’s glasses all brown and silted up, whereas someone else would either pick them up and clean them or throw them out, without hesitation or tears. Having folks help did move things along quicker, we are all grateful for those who stopped by and supported us.

Watching the pile of household items on the front lawn grow was heartbreaking; beds, tables, couches, lamps, rugs, TVs, magazines, clothes, washing machine, mattresses, cat beds, carpets and more. And then I look left and right, and my neighbours’ piles are growing too. Devastating. Driving down the streets here, all we saw were piles of families’ lives on their front lawns, damaged, brown and wet. 

Thanks to the help of friends, and Mums colleagues, the carpets in the 5 rooms were up by Wednesday afternoon and the rooms were starting to dry out.

Alex’s work colleagues helped us with a lot during that first week. They drove to Bunnings (the local building store) to get packing boxes. They helped us arrange storage for some of our stuff, and then took our stuff there for us. They arranged pallets so we could keep our items off the damp and mouldy cement in the garage. They supported Alex in various ways at work too, no pressure to return to work until she was ready. Overall, they kept calm, focused and supportive, even through our trauma responses and tears.

My classmates stopped by later in the week, once I could get word to them after driving 15 kilometres for some internet and phone calls. Cleaning fridges, washing our clothes and towels, and generally offering support. Every little bit helped 10-fold.

We felt a strong sense of community in those first few days. I finally met the neighbours across the road, the next-door neighbours and I never talked so much as in those early flood days. People would stop by and offer to carry, clean, tidy or just offer an ear for a chat. There were cakes, coffees and teas offered. There were suggestions about how to correctly clean items, how to deal with the insurance, how to cope, how to organise our items. There were heartbreaking stories about experiences of friends, colleagues and folks we didn’t even know. 

By talking through our experiences, we could each process that little bit more of our experience and emotions. It was good to get it out in the open. It was difficult but good to hear others talk about their experiences or experiences of people they know. 

Our aim was to clear the house so it could start to dry out, and it took about a week to get it (mostly) done. 6 weeks later, there’s still boxes that need going through and items that need cleaning. I have clothes and belongings in 4 different locations, and mould that keeps on keepin’ on. 

On Wednesday evening, I had a very strong reaction to the rainstorm rolling in. It started when I first heard thunder from way off. I ran outside to see how it all looked, and I felt this urge to go back to the flood house to check I put everything up high enough in the garage.

I couldn’t stand the thought of losing more.

I had trouble breathing. I was hot under the collar, and I was crying. I think I was rocking back and forward too. Alex took control, helped me calm down and hugged me until the feeling passed. She said later I had a panic attack.

Whatever it was, it was not pleasant. 

On the TV that week, I recognized one of my high school teachers being rescued, holding onto the back of a kayak, dragged through very deep brown water to safety. I still can’t find the words to express the emotions when I saw that image. 

On Thursday exhaustion, stress and muscle aches were really settling in. I was often lost around the flood house, still trying to make sense of it all and trying to clean up. I lost my shit at someone who made a comment about me overreacting about something mundane like cleaning up some items. I don’t think I have ever yelled at someone like that before in my life, I even scared myself. The anger, which deep down I realise was a feeling of betrayal. It was the first time since the flood I was being judged, and I sure didn’t like it. 

Who would? 

Things were tense as it was, and I hit my limit that day. I apologized for my reaction, and I think the person realised they may have overstepped the mark. We got on with cleaning up. I am grateful for their overall support and energy, which continues to this day.

Alex and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary on the Friday after the flood. Looking back, it’s sure been a real whirlwind of a rollercoaster ride. We went out for pizza and us time. Keepin’ it simple is what we do best. One thing’s for sure, our love and relationship has gone from strength to strength during this very testing period.

We still love and care for each other just like 2 years before, and for me, even more so after each experience (good or bad). Alex has been a support, a rock, a guiding star, the light in the dark, the clear road ahead and the hug, smile, chat and love that I needed during these testing times.

On the drive home, the rain got really really heavy. It was a scary moment for us both. I gritted my teeth and got through it with tears in my eyes, I was reminded that rain is no longer something I enjoy the sound, feel or look of. 

By the end of that first week, I started to feel terrible around the house. I guess it was always there, but increasingly when I visited the flood house to work on clean up, I’d feel a lump in my throat or something in the pit of my stomach. Alex could feel it too. It felt like the visits were retraumatising us. So, after 6 days of cleaning, tidying, packing, unpacking, crying, repacking, making decisions, sleepless nights, more tears, muscle aches, exhaustion, stress, hugs, a few laughs, coffees and finding another item we connected with wet, I decided I would take a break from the house. Alex too.

I only wish I could have gotten Mum to take a break after the first week.

It was a tough no sleep, high stress week, becoming increasingly hard to hear or see Mum upset. She’d financed and bought the house on her own, furnished it the way she wanted, and recently we did some home renovations like painting and curtains. It was just starting to get comfy for us all, and to have that connection with each other and the house disrupted was hard. Seeing Mum distraught, upset, frustrated, exhausted, confused, and hurt was difficult to see and feel.

I understand Mum isn’t someone who relaxes easily, I learnt that from her, and part of her way of processing what happened was to keep busy. We all react differently to the experiences around us, another reminder to me, to let those do what they feel they need to do to move forward.

During that first week or so, there were a lot of emotions, intense feelings and adjustments. It would take some time for me to process what happened, and what sense I made of it all. 

I knew there were people volunteering, communities getting together arranging food, shelter, transport and more for those who were evacuated, flooded out or lost their homes. I didn’t feel great that I couldn’t be very active supporting others, but I knew I wanted to help, if I could.

The day after the flood we had to register at the local evacuation centre, and as I walked back outside, I saw a woman in the car park who had her cat in her car, her car was packed full of stuff too. I didn’t hesitate, I walked up and asked if she needed anything for her cat. She needed food.

We talked a bit more, she was stranded, trying to head north but was stuck because the roads were closed. She followed Alex and I to Sophie’s house and we gave her a bag of dry and some wet food too. 

Her smile was all the thanks I needed. 

I felt joy that I was able to give back to someone who was flood affected. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her and her cat, and it meant the world to me at the time.

Incredibly, the Tuesday ended with a smile. With everything around us in turmoil and chaos, and all the feelings of helplessness and the trauma, every moment, no matter how small, that provided a shimmer of good and hope, was something to hold on to, and something to grow with.

Thanks for reading,

Josh 

Where do I start?

The last 6 weeks have been a whirlwind of trauma, tragedy, triumph and emotions. 

I originally wanted to write about all the things in one go, but it’s too much for just one blog entry. So, I’ll just write… and see what comes out… this might be part one of a few parts… 

First, let's go back to the beginning of this term, when going to class was tough. I really didn’t feel up to returning to study. I don’t really know why, maybe because of the long 2 month break over the Christmas holidays, which was mostly spent in isolation, but I just didn’t feel motivated. It took quite a bit of energy to push myself to turn up to class. 

The teacher asked the class 2 questions at the beginning of that Tuesday: What do you want to focus on during this last term? What is your strategy to keep focused?

My response came to me surprisingly quickly. I was reminded of my first day of class in April 2021. I had not stepped inside a classroom for over 20 years, I had no idea what I was doing and what lay ahead. However, on that day I made a commitment to myself that I would do whatever it takes to finish this course.

I responded to the teacher’s question and announced to the whole class: I would focus on finishing the course, and to do that, I would take it one day at a time. 

I’ve spent a lot of my life dreaming of the future or reliving the past. I was rarely in the moment. My calendar is full of a “to do list”, that never fails to grow bigger. It’s also full of special dates from the past that I often relive, often without a positive feeling. I kept experiencing anxiety on a regular basis, because I wasn’t mindful of the present. I wasn’t being grateful for what I have got or experienced, just disappointed about what I haven’t got or what I missed out on.

I didn’t stop to smell the roses.

That first day back to class this year, was a real turning point for me, I decided I was going to work on learning to live in the moment as best I could. I felt this was currently where my mental health and personal growth would most benefit, by taking things one day at a time.

I had turned up to class, and that was an achievement I needed to acknowledge to myself. That was the most important thing I could do that day and, if it was the only thing I did, then pat myself on the back, a job well done. 

Turn up, be present and do the best I can. 

From then on, I removed as many distractions as I could from my daily routine, there was less guitar playing, or gig finding or even socializing. I slowed right down. The main focus was that I turned up to class, even if I didn’t think I was in the right mindset to learn, just being there was a sign I was still heading towards my goal. 

Slowly but surely my motivation came back, and on those days when I felt down, my class mates and teachers wouldn’t let me slack off, they’d remind me “one day at a time”. They were stubbornly supportive, but that’s what you get when you’re in a room full of counsellors. 

So, there I was slowly getting my student mojo back… and then the levee broke…

So much can happen in just 24 hours… 

On Sunday 27th February the rains got real heavy on saturated ground and didn’t let up. By Monday morning as the tide was at its highest, like many others in the area, we had water inside our house. 

Looking back, the whole thing feels like a dream. A really, really, bad dream. 

Mum and I didn’t sleep much on Sunday night and by 5am I was driving the car out of the garage to higher ground, scaring myself in the process. The water sure is deep in the dark! I decided not to risk it with our 2nd slightly higher car. I thought the water couldn’t get higher enough to get inside it, boy I was wrong.

We tried to get everything up high in the house, guitars on kitchen benches, boxes of books on tables, tax documents, visa applications and passports out of the bottom filing cabinet. Electrical items, lamps, fans and cables up on couches and shoes and clothes out of the bottom of cupboards.

While Mum and I were running around putting stuff up, we let Alex rest a little longer, she’d need her energy later anyhow. Eventually, Alex woke up to Mum and I trying to prepare for the water entering the house outside our bedroom window. 

The key word here was “spider”, which I yelled as I realised a huge huntsman was just an inch away from my hand, he was getting away from the water perched on the wall. Alex and spiders of any size don’t mix, and she shot upright pretty darn quick.

I logged into class at 9am, showing my online class the water rising outside and really, in hindsight of that adrenaline rush, not realizing how much worse things were about to get and how this moment in time would change us forever.

At least I was marked “present” that day.

The water came through the marsh land a few hundred meters behind our house and rose over the neighbouring golf course. At the same time, it was news to me that the water could flow down our street out the front of the house like a river too. I opened the garage door, and it flowed fast and furious through and out the back, connecting the road river to the golf course lake.

As the water entered the house, it didn’t come through the low windows or under the doors first, it crept through in between the cement slab, bricks and timber frame in corners and other spots. To be honest, we didn’t do too bad with our preparations; we just didn’t do them at the right spots. The water has a mind of its own, there’s no stopping it no matter what you do.

As the water rose, we waded through the water and kept putting things higher, or finding things we’d forgotten about in low cupboards, either wet already, or found just in time to save ‘em. 

As soon as the water entered the house, I called the SES asking for rescue. We knew we were not the lowest part of the road, and that walking out in either direction was a dangerous option without help. We weren’t sure if the power or phones would work for much longer either.

We “moved out” of the house to wait for rescue, into the “catio” or summer room. Basically, a room with fly screens for walls, usually used to enjoy the cool evenings without the mosquitos and bugs to disturb dinners, today it was our knee-deep flowing water rescue room.

Our belongings were up on the table, as were the 2 cats, in their respective carrier box/bag. Ruby was not impressed at being in her box, but Junior was comfortable in his bag. Both cats spent over 7 hours in their carriers, without a break, until we were safe on dry land.

I had all my electronics, laptop and iPad, ready for rescue, so that once we were safe, I could continue my studies!! It’s funny how the mind works in times of stress, class wasn’t going to happen for a while Josh!! Numpty!

Around mid-morning, Alex had mentioned to her colleagues online that she, sorry, wasn’t able to work, there was water in the house. Her boss quickly rallied her colleagues to head on over with kayaks to rescue us!

So now we had 2 rescue teams on their way, but when would they arrive?

We waited for what felt like hours, checking what we could inside the house, taking photos, checking the front street and just waiting and worrying. At one point I started to think we may not be rescued and would have to consider sleeping in the house somehow. The thought of sleeping on a wet mattress didn’t appeal to any of us.

We chatted to a few folks who kayaked or paddle down the street and stopped out front, there were even a few kids oblivious to the destruction in our homes along the street swimming and laughing as the “river” pushed them down the street. 

There were logs, gas bottles, chairs and coke cans floating by in the brown water. 

The SES arrived with a rubber ducky mid-afternoon and checked in on us. We were glad they got to us, and they were glad we were relatively safe. They had another family with children to check further down the road, we said that’s OK to go to them first, we just asked them to stop by on their way back to pick us up. 

They also mentioned Alex’s colleagues were waiting for us at the end of the road. Apparently, they had their kayaks in the water at the end of the road ready to come to our rescue, when the rescue guys arrived. It was suggested that maybe it was safer for them to rescue us instead.

Eventually the SES, rescue squad and policeman returned with the other family to grab us. After a bit of back and forwards, Mum was going to go first and Alex and I later, we decided we’d walk with them as far as we could, and then between us and the other family use the boat in the deep sections. It was quite overwhelming, to be rescued from our house, a house that had been our safe space for the past 18 months or so, and that had protected Mum for over 10 years.

We were very thankful for the rescue guys coming to our aid. They’d been working since early morning and hadn’t had a break. They waded through the waters more than once, and I’m sure they were really feeling the pain and exhaustion.

I had my electronics and study notes on my back, I had BB Junior on my front in his cat backpack and I had my suitcase in the boat. Alex had her handbag with her laptop and the food bag, she left her clothes bag behind. Mum had Ruby in the carrier, a suitcase and her backpack. We walked slowly through the rain for over a kilometre to safety. 

That kilometre involved parts of almost dry road, knee deep water, waist deep water and jumping in the boat at chest deep water, all of it against the “tide”. There were cars submerged, people out staking photos, some houses totally safe from the water, others deeper than ours. It was a real mixed bag.

When we finally got to the end of the road, we met Alex’s colleagues who drove us to our friend’s place, Sophie*, where we could figure out our next step. 

The cats were soaking wet, but happy to be out and about in the late afternoon when we got to our respective temporary accommodation.

We had no idea how high the water would get that evening and could just hope our belongings were going to be safe. That evening the power cut out for 18 hours, and by the next evening all communications, phone and internet, would be out for at least 5 days. 

We couldn’t even let our loved ones know we were OK.

During flood day, Mum, Alex and I worked together almost seamlessly, as a team, to get the house in the best possible order for when the water rose. We were running on adrenaline and survival. There was little time to be tired or unfocused, it was all action.

Little did we know, we had just been through a traumatic experience, something that changed us and will stay with us for the rest of our lives. The shock of it all still surrounds us 6 weeks on. 

Our security blanket, our house, our plans, our routine, our safety was shattered. We are a family that was displaced by the flood. We are one group of many who experienced tragedy during those days, and for many days and weeks to come. 

For the next 3 weeks Alex, BB Junior and I would sleep in Sophie’s spare room, while Mum would sleep at my cousins and Ruby was at my other cousins.

Like many many others in the region, we are a displaced family due to the highest flood in living history. It was 1 day in our lives, but the knock-on effect will live with us forever. 

Thanks for reading

Josh

*not her real name