I’m currently 45 years old and I have spent 19 years of my life in NSW jails, albeit in instalments (not all in one go), because I kept falling for the traps of evil. The first time I can remember breaking the law was in Year 5, when I broke into the primary school I went to. I was stupid, but I got away with it, and stealing the petty cash tin only reinforced the idea that crime can pay, but for how long?

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I started high school not too long afterwards and, still blinded by the devil, I did something I really regret. Still getting away with my crimes, I started to smoke, drink alcohol and hang around kids who were two and three years older than me, I was fooled into thinking I was “all that”, when really I was just stupid.

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My schooling and drug use took a turn for the worse when I started going to rave parties in Sydney’s warehouses in Years 8 and 9. I wasn’t getting any work done and I soon found myself dropping out all together. The drugs got worse, and so did the people I was around. I started using heroin and travelling to Cabramatta, where heroin was cheap and abundant. It was pure evil.

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I started getting locked up once I turned 18, mainly for property offences. My life really spiralled out of control when I started using IV drugs. I committed armed robberies and other acts of violence, and things soon escalated. I’m lucky to be alive,
to be honest.

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After nearly completing a drug rehabilitation program at Parklea CC, I planned to stay out of jail and found employment.

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While learning how to paint at Long Bay, I was given an opportunity to participate in a three-part documentary series called “Life on the Outside”. From the outside, it looked like I was doing well. I started my own small painting business with the help of new-found friends from doing the show. But I was still blinded by the devil and lying to myself: I kept using drugs and hanging around other users in trap houses in the city after work.

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Somehow, I managed to keep working and started trying to secure my own place. But after a friend of mine passed away, I started taking pills again, which never ends well. I did stupid things, broke the law and got kicked out. That part didn’t go to air, but I did get something positive out of a bad situation: I completed priority housing application paperwork, which I see as the major hurdle for many applicants.

My advice to anyone getting out of jail and not having anywhere to live is: go to housing, ask for a priority housing application, and get it done ASAP.

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I really hope people can learn from my mistakes, because what happened next was horrible, with the same pattern repeating.

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I ended up serving time again after breaching parole, but after five months I was paroled into temporary accommodation, which was much better than living in a cell.

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I managed to get by and was soon offered my own place: a one-bedroom unit. I thought I had won the housing jackpot. It had a walk-in wardrobe and an underground parking space. I was on the top floor and had fantastic views of Sydney. How could I possibly fail again?

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Well, you guessed it: I did. I continued my hideous behaviour, using drugs. By then, my only friends seemed to be people who had all done large amounts of jail, which wasn’t helpful, to say the least. I had somewhat overcome my addiction to heroin and was using ice more regularly. It was becoming a problem. I thought I could manage it compared to a heroin habit, but I found out the hard way.

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I was still criminally active, letting evil run my life. I was sleeping less and I even had hospital admissions due to drug-induced psychosis. I wasn’t functioning properly. As an addict, you can’t. It’s only a matter of time and evil will get you.

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So here I am, back in jail for the final time. I no longer use any drug whatsoever, including coffee. I reduced myself off the bupe injection, as it is meant to be used like methadone: not forever, but as a stepping stone so you can get healthy again.

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I believe that, if you’re fair dinkum, jail is the perfect place to give it a go. You just need to remain focused, challenge yourself, and stay healthy, strong and, most importantly, drug-free. It’s like the stray cat theory: if you feed your addiction at all, it won’t go away. The only way to overcome drugs properly is zero tolerance, just like the rehabs preach.

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Is there such a thing as a functioning addict? Only a foolish person would say so. I’m 45 years old now and I have truly had enough problems in my life from addiction, so I have implemented major changes. I’ve tried every other way and they just don’t work. You cannot maintain a healthy lifestyle when using drugs.

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I’ve seen and been through it all. I even lost my little sister to a heroin overdose. That was a major tragedy that affected my family and me severely. She meant a lot to me.

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I find the most helpful tool in getting off drugs is to repeat, and truly mean, what you say: “I hate drugs.” Words are powerful. The more I have repeated that saying, the stronger I feel. Humans are capable of anything, especially change. With hard work and perseverance, you can make positive changes in your life. It all starts with the power of belief.

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The community really needs good role models, especially people who have overcome addiction. It’s never too late, or too early, to change.

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And remember:

God still loves you.