#sbstv

I sit, watching television in a house where there is heating, food and water. There is a clean bed for me to sleep in.  My wallet sits on the kitchen counter, and my phone is charging on the other side of the room.

There is safety, warmth and hygiene.

The programme I’m watching is the new 3-part SBS series, Filthy Rich and Homeless.  In it, 5 high-profile folks live the experience of being homeless, sleeping rough out on the streets and having to live by their wits from day to day - no wallet, smartphone, cash… all the accessories which makes us, us.

(If you’d like to find out more, click this link.) The irony is that in my wallet, there is a Centrelink Health Care card that is mine.  It has my name and a unique, identifying number.

It also says, “NO FIXED ADDRESS”.  February:  My ex-fiancee stands at his full height and screams at me until he’s red in the face. “You’re MAKING me do this!” he shouts.

He stands above me, a large man, double my weight.  I have never been scared of anybody before, but I am terrified now.  It’s a completely alien feeling, being afraid of bones breaking, afraid you’ll have to hit back, afraid of what he’s going to do or say next.  It’s the realisation that the train has derailed, and that whatever happens next is what will happen TO you and you won’t be okay afterwards.  Salvageable, maybe, but definitely not okay.

The next day, he enters the bathroom as I am showering.  He then starts to talk to me, saying, “I need you to understand me.”  He keeps badgering, over and over again.

I end up crying, hysterical, wet, naked on the floor, asking him why he’s doing this.  I try to rip the gold chain off my wrist - made from my grandmother’s gold, the only material possession which matters to me - I try to rip it off and give it to him, anything to make it stop.  He wants, he wants, he wants, and I am told that I owe it to him to give him what he wants.  

He tells me that I’ve never listened to him, although I have sat down with him in silence, taking notes on paper on his grievances, scribbling studiously; never acknowledged his needs, even though we frequently spoke about how myself, and others, can fulfil them; that I am controlling, even though I ask his opinions and he has always been free to act independently.

That night, there is more hysterics.  I give him a glass of sweet cola cordial, as he must be dehydrated from all the sobbing.   Nothing is resolved, the hysterics do not subside, and I am screamed at once more.  Doors are slammed, and I am afraid he will harm himself.  I call his girlfriend, because he needs assistance from someone other than myself.  He does not want me calling her, because he does wish to reveal his worst self.

He has always saved his worst self for me. 

That night, I barricade myself in the second bedroom, pushing shelves firmly against the door. I pack a bag, containing one change of clothes and toiletries. I hope I will not have to smash the window in order to leave the next morning. The night marches on grimly. I do not know if I will get a fist through the door, or mournful wailing, or even more screaming.  My phone never leaves my hand, in case the police needs to be called. 

At first light, I am terrified as I pull away the barricade, and walk quietly out. A bad Catholic, I don’t often pray, but I thanked God that morning that he’s a heavy sleeper.

This is how I came to have “NO FIXED ADDRESS”.

Now:   In ‘Filthy Rich and Homeless,’ Benjamin Law walks into a dentist and asks, politely, for a sample pack containing toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash. Dr. Catherine Robinson later admonishes him, saying that it’s his privilege that allowed him to do so. Well - so darn what?  She says ‘privilege’, I say ‘resourcefulness’.  Because when the chips are down, resourcefulness is not a bad place to begin.

The show touches on a few raw nerves for me.   Just for background; I am in the process of reconstructing my life after having been subject to emotional and financial abuse from a domestic partner.   Previously, I had thought that one had to be struck, or pushed or physically overpowered in order for a situation to become abusive.  

Now I understand, firsthand and also through the resources I have accessed, that this is not the case. I currently stay in the home of a very dear friend, although it appears outwardly secure, it is impossible to shift the cold terror of uncertainty.  Due to what has happened, it may be difficult to shift for quite some time.   It is my responsibility to deal with that terror, and manage it.  It is exhausting, inescapable, and I hope in time it will subside. My ancient Honda has sunburnt paint, and is out of registration.  I had a small business which I can no longer afford to run.  I had a Pretty Good Job, but more duties were laid upon me, for no more pay.  My ex-fiancee had come into an inheritance and after much discussion, we agreed that he would support me financially whilst I worked on my business.  We were polyamorous - it was more difficult for him than anticipated (although not easy for me either). Those difficulties chipped away at him, revealing a terrifying, uncontrolled ugliness, turning him from one person into someone else, someone I did not know at all.   The dating and rejection hurt his ego, and the inheritance gave him license to treat me akin to a prostitute, a woman who could be bought, an object solely for hire, for calming his sexual urges and emotional storms, instead of a loyal friend, adviser, teammate and life partner.  

He turned into someone who harmed me, someone I had to get away from in order to remain a whole human being.  

I am fortunate enough to be getting back to feeling human, although I have no job, no savings (he took everything) and very little material possessions. And I have had to be resourceful.  And charming and polite.  I had to learn to ask, had to learn to admit I needed every scrap of help possible.   So there’s nothing wrong with going into a ‘fancy dentist’ and asking for something. I asked to be able to stay at various friend’s houses.  I asked for advice from WIRE, Women’s Health West and other agencies. I asked for the roof I currently have over my head.  I shop for groceries, cook, clean, care, and pay half the bills.  I am not without shelter or the hard-won love and the consideration of others.  Sometimes, when I have my bad days, I shake and cry with both gratitude and terror.  It can be hard.   The person I currently stay with said, “I’m not going to make you homeless,” when I landed here, terrified and unsure about where I would spend that night, and the next many foreseeable nights.  I can never, in this lifetime, express my gratitude and the immense amount of love I have for them, just for being the kind, sane and compassionate person they are.