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Let’s talk about being released. My release date was the 18th of March 2025, and in one month I have accomplished so many things. Release for me has been easy in some respects and difficult in others. I must admit that I am enjoying freedom.
I go to AA on Tuesdays and NA on Thursdays, and whenever I can get to any other meetings I go as well. I don’t mind if they’re AA or NA as long as I’m getting my recovery somewhere. I still pray every morning to a God that I do not fully understand. Now I live, breathe and enjoy freedom. I am trying to do good work in the community, trying to follow my heart and help those women that I’ve left behind in prison at Dame Phyllis Frost Centre (DPFC). I am concentrating my efforts on stopping the lockdowns at DPFC. I want the girls to know that I have not forgotten about them. I am working with a group of passionate women out here trying to create some change. Watch this space ladies. And Wendy, I know I owe you five dollars! (LOL. Inside joke. Sorry everyone else!)
The thing is I am tired of not being heard. Prison was hard for me. I mean, not physically hard, but mentally it was hard. No matter how hard you try, you’re not an individual anymore – you’re simply a criminal reference number.
Some exciting opportunities have come up for me. I helped give a lecture at RMIT University with a friend of mine from Flat Out Inc. I was so scared, let me tell you. But it was the most interesting thing I have ever done. I spoke to an auditorium full of people studying a Master of Social Work – “Contemporary Themes in Professional Practice”. Whatever that means, right? I talked about my experiences being a woman in custody, my release and my future goals. All the students seemed to love it, and after the lecture students came up to me and told me how wonderful my contribution was. I also loved it. Public speaking is my thing. Who knew? Not me, that is for sure.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be doing that four weeks after being released from prison.
I’ve also joined an amazing collective called FIGJAM. FIGJAM is a collective of formerly incarcerated women – like me. We share similar interests, a passion for advocacy and we stand strong for and with women that are still incarcerated. We are working on having strip searches abolished in prisons for good. I feel at home with these folks.
Who would have known that, after a 3-year prison sentence, I could fit into the community and be more valued and respected than I have ever been in my life. There is life after prison and, let me tell you, that life for me is beautiful. But it’s not without its challenges. After doing a long time in prison, being in open spaces with large numbers of people, I can find it hard to breathe and it can be overwhelming. I have noticed that I am home before dark because that’s what I’m used to. I am going to figure that out over time. Maybe it will change, maybe it won’t. I have taken the time to be kind to myself and to notice these things. I don’t see them as a fault. I just acknowledge them and move onto other thoughts.
What I find interesting is that after being released there is support available for you if you want it. I have been lucky in my journey. I have women and services who have backed me 100 percent. I do urines twice a week; I see my parole officer twice a week; I go to drug and alcohol counselling at VAHS once a week; I go to NA and AA meetings and get involved with FIGJAM, Flat Out, About Time and any other organisation that will have me. I am trying new things, and I am stepping out of my comfort zone. When you read this, I hope it helps you to see that, when you are released, it can be amazing too.
There is a beautiful life waiting for you. Grab it. There are people in the community who will help you along the way.
Learn to ask for help. It’s ok to ask. Everyone needs help at times.
I am writing a book about my experience. It helps me to heal and to work through my trauma and pain. There are so many stories like mine, and I think the community needs to hear them. My life is important. I am just as important as a Prime Minister, as an auntie, as a mother, as a daughter – my story matters and I deserve to be heard.
Let’s talk about being released. My release date was the 18th of March 2025, and in one month I have accomplished so many things. Release for me has been easy in some respects and difficult in others. I must admit that I am enjoying freedom.
I go to AA on Tuesdays and NA on Thursdays, and whenever I can get to any other meetings I go as well. I don’t mind if they’re AA or NA as long as I’m getting my recovery somewhere. I still pray every morning to a God that I do not fully understand. Now I live, breathe and enjoy freedom. I am trying to do good work in the community, trying to follow my heart and help those women that I’ve left behind in prison at Dame Phyllis Frost Centre (DPFC). I am concentrating my efforts on stopping the lockdowns at DPFC. I want the girls to know that I have not forgotten about them. I am working with a group of passionate women out here trying to create some change. Watch this space ladies. And Wendy, I know I owe you five dollars! (LOL. Inside joke. Sorry everyone else!)
The thing is I am tired of not being heard. Prison was hard for me. I mean, not physically hard, but mentally it was hard. No matter how hard you try, you’re not an individual anymore – you’re simply a criminal reference number.
Some exciting opportunities have come up for me. I helped give a lecture at RMIT University with a friend of mine from Flat Out Inc. I was so scared, let me tell you. But it was the most interesting thing I have ever done. I spoke to an auditorium full of people studying a Master of Social Work – “Contemporary Themes in Professional Practice”. Whatever that means, right? I talked about my experiences being a woman in custody, my release and my future goals. All the students seemed to love it, and after the lecture students came up to me and told me how wonderful my contribution was. I also loved it. Public speaking is my thing. Who knew? Not me, that is for sure.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be doing that four weeks after being released from prison.
I’ve also joined an amazing collective called FIGJAM. FIGJAM is a collective of formerly incarcerated women – like me. We share similar interests, a passion for advocacy and we stand strong for and with women that are still incarcerated. We are working on having strip searches abolished in prisons for good. I feel at home with these folks.
Who would have known that, after a 3-year prison sentence, I could fit into the community and be more valued and respected than I have ever been in my life. There is life after prison and, let me tell you, that life for me is beautiful. But it’s not without its challenges. After doing a long time in prison, being in open spaces with large numbers of people, I can find it hard to breathe and it can be overwhelming. I have noticed that I am home before dark because that’s what I’m used to. I am going to figure that out over time. Maybe it will change, maybe it won’t. I have taken the time to be kind to myself and to notice these things. I don’t see them as a fault. I just acknowledge them and move onto other thoughts.
What I find interesting is that after being released there is support available for you if you want it. I have been lucky in my journey. I have women and services who have backed me 100 percent. I do urines twice a week; I see my parole officer twice a week; I go to drug and alcohol counselling at VAHS once a week; I go to NA and AA meetings and get involved with FIGJAM, Flat Out, About Time and any other organisation that will have me. I am trying new things, and I am stepping out of my comfort zone. When you read this, I hope it helps you to see that, when you are released, it can be amazing too.
There is a beautiful life waiting for you. Grab it. There are people in the community who will help you along the way.
Learn to ask for help. It’s ok to ask. Everyone needs help at times.
I am writing a book about my experience. It helps me to heal and to work through my trauma and pain. There are so many stories like mine, and I think the community needs to hear them. My life is important. I am just as important as a Prime Minister, as an auntie, as a mother, as a daughter – my story matters and I deserve to be heard.
Homelessness is often the biggest worry that people have when being released from custody. A lot of people leave prison not sure of where they will live. This section gives a rough outline of how people can look for homelessness services and different types of accommodation.
We all need identification. Identification (or ID) is a document that proves who you are.
Release can feel like a distant flicker – filled with both hope and uncertainty. But, when the gates open, freedom isn’t just liberating; it can be overwhelming.
Studying after you leave prison may be a good option to help you learn new skills and give you more options and opportunities for employment. Studying can also help keep you motivated after leaving prison.
At first, it felt like nobody wanted to give me a chance. But, eventually, one employer took a chance on me. That warehouse job may not have looked like much to others, but to me it was everything: it gave me purpose, structure and, most of all, hope.
Prison is endured, not processed. The trauma often goes unrecognised and unacknowledged. Many of us hide the damage, even from ourselves. Without validation, we carry it alone – mistaking struggle for weakness, layering self-blame on top of trauma and finding no clear path to relief.
Simon Fenech is the General Manager/Director at social enterprise Fruit2Work in Victoria. His transformation from a drug addict, buried deep in Australia’s criminal underworld, to an inspirational figure, intent on changing the lives of others, is remarkable.
Release can feel like a distant flicker – filled with both hope and uncertainty. But, when the gates open, freedom isn’t just liberating; it can be overwhelming.
Help keep the momentum going. All donations will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
All donations of $2 or more are tax deductible. If you would like to pay directly into our bank account to avoid the processing fee, please contact donate@abouttime.org.au. ABN 67 667 331 106.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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