In 2009, I was social, played sport, and had been to Europe twice. I had a full-time job and was completely independent.
By 2014, I was unemployed and isolated, living with my sister and her family. I was carrying a life sentence of trauma given to me by my ex-husband.
I had finally reached a point where I was free from living with him but not free from abuse that I would continue to endure for years afterwards, all while smiling at my children and telling them everything would be ok.
My goal was simple: to provide the best life I could for my beautiful children, aged four years and five months, as we began our new journey together. At the same time, I was trying to figure out how to heal myself.
I was fortunate enough to secure a private rental, but I was unemployed and waiting for services to help financially. My ex-partner had eluded the system and I received no financial support from him. Government benefits were our only source of income.
So now I had a place to live and a car, nothing fancy and often unreliable, but very little else. The three of us slept together on one mattress in the lounge room.
I was dealing with PTSD, anxiety and depression as a result of family violence. I also had a baby who needed medicated formula and ongoing specialist care through a paediatrician, not just a bulk-billed GP.
Needless to say, I had to learn to budget, and quickly.
We relied heavily on food provided by churches and community centres. While they did their best, demand was high and limits were placed on what we could receive. Often the food was close to its expiry date, meaning it didn’t last long. Sometimes I had to cut mould off bread, toast it, and hope we didn’t get sick.
Many of these food programs only operated once a fortnight, so I often had to travel to multiple locations each week just to feed my children.
With the food we received, I cooked as much as I could, froze what I could, and stretched everything as far as possible. Even then, I was often left with one meal a day, or sometimes none at all. I would drink water and milk to try to fill my stomach.
There were always impossible choices to make. Groceries, especially meat, were too expensive. I had to prioritise taking my child to a paediatrician, which came with significant out-of-pocket costs and no rebate. I needed fuel to get there. I needed to keep a roof over our heads, the lights on, and the heating running for my children.
At the same time, I was trying to save for basic household essentials such as a fridge, washing machine, beds and couches.
For smaller things like plates, cups, cutlery, sheets, clothes and shoes, I relied on charity shops. But every dollar spent there meant sacrificing something else, often food.
I knew I needed to work, but working created new expenses such as childcare and additional fuel costs. It meant taking whatever job I could get, whether I liked it or not.
Although childcare was subsidised because I held a healthcare card, new challenges came with it. If my child was sick and unable to attend, I had to miss work but still pay childcare fees, while also losing a day’s wages. That meant we had to go without somewhere else.
One moment that truly broke my heart was a trip to the supermarket with my children. My four-year-old saw some books and wanted them so he could take them to school and share them with his friends.
The books weren’t expensive, but buying them meant putting something else back on the shelf. Rather than return food my children needed, I put back the sanitary products I needed.
My son wanted to play sport like the other kids, but I always had to say no.
He wanted new shoes so he could fit in with his friends and stop being teased for the holes in his old ones. Again, I had to say no.
He wanted a birthday party, but I couldn’t afford one. He wanted to attend other children’s parties, but when there were costs involved, he couldn’t go. Eventually, he stopped being invited.
How do you explain that to a child?
I watered down shampoo and conditioner to make them last longer. We used the same toothbrushes far beyond the recommended time.
I also needed help with my mental health. While you can access psychology sessions through a GP referral, the appointments still required payment upfront, with reimbursement coming later.
Because I could only attend appointments on Saturdays, I would often be left with no money until Monday or Tuesday the following week.
I remember my children passing gastro amongst themselves and then to me. Over two weeks, we were completely overcome by illness. During that time, I also developed tonsillitis.
Because we had an active gastro virus in the house, I couldn’t attend a doctor straight away. I became so unwell and severely infected that I was eventually rushed to a 24-hour doctor at 3am for multiple injections to provide temporary relief.
For weeks, I was taking Panadol, Nurofen and antibiotics every day. But even then, buying medication meant sacrificing something else. I had to choose between being sick and going without, or being healthy and going without.
Bed rest wasn’t an option. I had to keep going.
Even during this period, I was still required to pay childcare fees, and because I couldn’t work, there were no wages coming in.
While there are some supports available to single mothers, they come nowhere near meeting the reality of what it costs to survive.
The cost of living continues to rise, while incomes and support payments remain stagnant. And that’s for those of us fortunate enough to have a roof over our heads.
If you don’t have secure housing, the challenges become even greater. Finding affordable housing is difficult for couples, let alone for single mothers who often carry the stigma and judgement attached to our circumstances.
I am one of the lucky ones.
But I am far from the only one.
*name changed to protect privacy
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