I've been a mental health and drug & alcohol nurse for a long time. I've worked with people most of us walk past without a second thought. That's my job and I wouldn't change it for the world.
But over the past few years, something has shifted. And I reckon if you've been paying attention, you've noticed it too.
Homelessness in Australia is booming. And I don't mean in the cities where the cameras are. I mean out in the regional towns — the places where people used to be able to afford a roof over their head. Wagga Wagga. Tumut. Tumbarumba. Towns you've probably driven through on a holiday without a second glance. I've been driving through them too. Except I've been stopping. And what I've found has shaken me.
I've sat with women living in tents who have the most incredible sense of humour you've ever seen. I've met a young bloke who goes to work every single day — and sleeps in a swag every single night. I've had a cuppa with retirees who've been living in vans for years and don't even see themselves as homeless. I've watched a woman struggle to walk to a creek because she's only got one lung, and she told me homelessness is just about "survival." That word has stuck with me ever since.
These aren't the people you see on the news. These are your neighbours, your parents, your kids. People who sold their house and couldn't buy back in. People who got priced out. People who just fell through the cracks. And trust me — there are a lot more of them than you think.
I started this podcast because I'm angry. I'm not going to sugar-coat that. I'm angry that in this country — this once "Lucky Country" — over 122,000 Australians are homeless on any given night. I'm angry that families who never expected to be without a roof are now sleeping in car parks. I'm angry that the people going through this are invisible to most of us.
But I'm not here to stand on a soapbox. That's not my style and honestly, I don't think it helps.
What I am here to do is hand people the microphone. I want you to hear their stories — told by them, in their own words. Because I reckon once you hear someone's story, really hear it, you can't just look the other way anymore.
As a nurse, I've learnt over the years to just take people at face value. I don't try to work out who's lying or take sides. I avoid challenging people. I know that everyone has their reasons and everyone has their story. That's how I approach this podcast too. I'm not the judge. I'm just the one with the microphone and a van who's willing to drive wherever the stories are.
And far out, the stories are everywhere.
I've driven thousands of kilometres now. From Queensland down through NSW and into Victoria. I've camped in free camps with no toilets, put tarps over my van in storms, and sweated through 40-degree heat in a tin box with no air conditioning. I've been cornered by suspicious characters, nearly caught in bushfires, and laughed until I cried with people who have absolutely nothing but still find joy in life.
That last bit is the part that gets me every time. The resilience. The humour. The humanity. People who are doing it so tough, but still crack a joke, still look out for each other, still offer you a cuppa even when they've got nothing. It breaks my heart and fills it up at the same time.
So that's why I'm doing this. Because these people matter. Their stories matter. And someone needs to tell them.
I'm not from the media. I'm not from a charity. I'm just a nurse with a bus, a dodgy microphone, and a stubborn belief that every person has a story worth hearing.
I hope you'll listen.
God bless, Margaret x