My home became a holiday rental, so I lived in a cemetery

I am one of the 120,000 homeless Australians living in the shadow of society’s indifference to our lives. Perhaps if you knew how we got here, our cries for help would be harder to ignore.

In my case, I fled a difficult childhood before taking whatever jobs I needed to survive. I have been a palliative care worker, shopkeeper, barista and masseuse. I even shucked oysters for a while.

Jacq Gallagher became homeless when her home was put up for short-term holiday rental.Credit: Eve Gallagher

And until last summer, my hard work paid off. But when my former landlord told me she was turning my long-term home into a short-term holiday stay, every other rental property available was terrifyingly out of reach.

I started sleeping in a cemetery because the dead were less likely to hurt me than the living. A beautiful family then invited me to stay while I converted a van into a mobile home with help from family and friends.

I’m now making my way up the waiting list for public housing. At 54, though, I’m worried about surviving the next 10 years without secure access to clean water and electricity. A range of health conditions – including spinal cysts, epilepsy and complex PTSD – are not on my side.

But what other choice do I have?

‘The dead were less likely to hurt me than the living.’ Jacq Gallagher lived in this cemetery when she first became homeless.Credit: Eve Gallagher

One-quarter of dwellings in the coastal region I live in are holiday homes. That’s 6000 homes, with hot water and clean sheets, sitting empty for months at a time. The 2020 bushfires took another 500 homes, many of which haven’t been rebuilt.

My friend Tilly* is seven years old and, ever since her mum escaped her violent dad, she’s been living on the run. For months, they bounced between women’s shelters, friends’ houses and short-term rentals that were cold and mouldy, before settling on their car. Living in a car scares Tilly, but she’s also fiercely protective of her mum. When asked what she got from the Easter Bunny, she defiantly declared that the Easter Bunny only visits kids who live in houses, but that she doesn’t care because she doesn’t like houses anyway.

There are 29,000 Australian children just like Tilly – deprived of a home, school, friends, pets and the most magical moments of their childhood.

Another friend, Joe*, lived under a bridge while struggling to overcome his time in war. The rehabilitation services available to veterans are legendary among those of us with debilitating mental illness, but Joe never got to enjoy them. With so many of his old army mates taking their own lives before they could jump through enough hoops to get the services they needed, Joe opted out in pain and disgust.

Veteran Joe* lived under this bridge while struggling to overcome his time in the war.Credit: Eve Gallagher

Veterans are three times more likely than non-veterans to experience homelessness and one-third more likely to die by suicide. And the last time I saw Joe, we mourned the death of yet another friend who had taken his own life after years of living on the streets. When I returned to the bridge a few days later to check on Joe, he was gone.

In his place came Aaron* who, after decades in the construction industry, unexpectedly found himself on a disability support pension with incurable nerve damage and arthritis. When Aaron’s pension failed to cover his rent, he moved from one menacing shelter to another, until he finally sought refuge in his car.

Aaron is often harassed from morning to night – first by rogue council staff or police officers, then by teenagers who think it’s funny to pick on homeless people, and then by drunk people on their way home from the pub. What these people don’t know is that Aaron always looks out for us, calling to check we’re safe if he hasn’t seen us by midday. He often takes care of Gerry*, a homeless woman in her 80s. And he offered to fit out my van, even though there are days he struggles to walk.

While caring for the dying, many have asked: “Why me?” But one of the most powerful lessons I’ve learnt is, “Why not me!”

None of us is exempt from the inevitability of change in this life, and it’s futile for any one of us to assume we’re exceptional, as if we’re somehow immune to decay and misfortune. You could be me and I could be you, and within our shared humanity lies boundless strength and compassion.

My friends and I don’t deserve to be homeless, any more than you do. Instead, we deserve empathy, support and real solutions. And we really need them now. **

* Names changed.

** If you would like to take action against homelessness, you could join forces with organisations such as Mission Australia, Launch Housing or Youth Off The Streets. You could also write to your state or federal member of parliament reminding them that housing is a basic human need that every Australian should be able to enjoy, like healthcare or clean water. Or you could just be kind to us when you see us; it means more than you know.

Jacq Gallagher, her great-niece Olive, and her van, Eileen, which became home for the 54-year-old woman.Credit: Eve Gallagher

As told to Eve Gallagher, Jacq Gallagher’s niece. Jacq is a 54-year-old woman with multiple disabilities who survived a traumatic childhood and is currently homeless.

If you or anyone you know needs support, call Lifeline on 131 114 or Beyond Blue on 1300 224 636.