'For 10 years, I had a great job and a steady income. To cope, I smoked ice in the toilets at work.'

This story mentions drug abuse and domestic abuse.

Writing about my experience, and sharing my story, used to terrify me. I was afraid of the judgement, and what people would think of me, but now I've realised that if I don't speak up, then nothing will change. And I am ready to challenge the 'addict' and 'criminal' labels that I have been brandished with. 

Growing up, I was always the kid in class with her hand up ready to answer the question. First to finish exams and always did my homework—an A (sometimes B) student. In primary school, I was labelled the "goodie two shoes". In high school, I was "too loud" or "annoying". I never felt like I fit in, never felt good enough, and certainly never felt cool enough. Always craving acceptance, I constantly adapted my personality, hoping to finally fit in.

Watch: Hollywood actor Jamie Lee Curtis on a life nearly lost to addiction. Post continues after video.

My sense of self, belonging and relationship with the world around me was fragile. Whenever I went through a breakup, it would send me into a tailspin, the rejection was more than I was emotionally capable of handling.

After finishing high school I moved from my small hometown to the 'big smoke'. The anonymity was a blessing and curse. I would dance the days away at festivals on pills, do lines of coke in Valley nightclubs, drink in bars and clubs most nights and drink myself to oblivion more often than I care to remember.

It was wild, and fun, and finally, people liked me. I was 18, studying at university, working and having a great time. 

It was a great time until it wasn't. 

A relationship breakup saw me pushed beyond what I'd previously considered "acceptable partying" into a crowd that was smoking speed and drinking fantasy (GHB). This new slippery level of drug taking made me forget about the rejection and heartbreak. Little did I know that smoking speed was not going to be a recreational drug for me. It was going to lead me to smoking ice. And that was going to be a constant source of pain for the next 10 years.

Addiction is a sneaky thing. It creeps into your life long before you can see it. What feels like a "work hard, play hard" mentality to the addict, looks like a train wreck from the outside. But I got creative and clever when it came to hiding my addiction from others, and even better at hiding it from myself.

Becoming a high-functioning addict.

Maintaining appearances is probably a better way to describe what I was doing, in my head, I could do it all. I could be the wild party girl, who was cool and likeable, and be a professional success story.

I was smart; I wore a suit to work; I held my own in the corporate world.

But life as a high-functioning addict, holding down a job in the financial services sector while studying a bachelor of business is as exhausting as it sounds, so it wasn't unusual to find me smoking ice in the bathroom at work.

Trying to keep all the balls in the air, the constant fear of being found out, and the constant maintenance of my drug supply were all-consuming and sadly, exhilarating all at the same time.

As my drug use escalated, I found myself increasingly surrounded by 'friends' who were also using heavily.

The day it all changed.

Eventually, the pressure of living dual lives began to take its toll. I found myself in a violent and controlling relationship and my addiction was spiralling out of control. It started to affect my work performance, and I could feel everything slipping away.

Up until this point, I had never needed to sell drugs.

I had a great job, and a steady income, but everything changed overnight. I was fired, and I found myself escaping a toxic relationship. With no income, traumatised by the abuse, nowhere to live, and a shocking addiction to feed, I was left reeling.

When I look back on it, there were a million other options, but I couldn't see them. I was rattled, disconnected from the 'normal world', felt unemployable, and to be fair I was more qualified to sell drugs than I was to work a 9-5.

A new low, selling drugs to survive.

I already had connections, and it felt like the only way I could survive. I was homeless, struggling to make ends meet, and my addiction had taken over. Selling drugs allowed me to keep a roof over my head and continue feeding my habit. 

But it also sent me spiralling further out of control. I was just trying to get by and keep myself afloat, but in the process, I burned my life to the ground. My self-destructive path only worsened as drugs and dealing became my way of numbing the pain. It all came to a head when I was first arrested—a moment that felt like a train wreck I couldn't stop.

The police pulled me over and found drugs scattered throughout my car. I knew I was in serious trouble. Feeling utterly powerless, I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to jail.

Tahlia during imprisonment. Image: Supplied.

A turning point.

As an advocate for women to be diverted away from prisons, what I'm going to say next is by no way me advocating for the usefulness of prison when it comes to solving social issues. I was incarcerated on remand for 10 months, and yes, I came out a different person. Firstly, I had the chance to detox, pulled from the life I was trapped in and I had the opportunity to really reflect on who I was and what I wanted for my life going forward. 

While the programs in prison are limited, I was determined to get myself a place in everything that was offered. It was a crucial period where I started to come to terms with my identity and values, after years of just trying to fit in and numb myself with drugs. 

The time I spent with my therapist in prison allowed me to imagine a life post-release. Though the experience was incredibly difficult, I emerged from those 10 months with a newfound sense of purpose and motivation to rebuild my life.

From addict, incarcerated to CEO and change maker.

I have been called many things in my life. Today, I'm proud to call myself a mum, whose idea of a wild weekend is going for a park run at 7am on a Saturday.

Tahlia with her two children. Image: Supplied.

Now, I spend my days advocating for women who have been impacted by the justice system, removing barriers so they can participate in life.

We have all done stuff we're not proud of, taken risks and even lashed out because we were hurt. But we are more than our mistakes, more than our labels. As women, we need to support one another and show kindness and empathy. 

Some women have been through unimaginable pain and heartbreak, suffering consequences well beyond what's deserved. Our communities would be safer and our economy thriving if we realised the value of women, like me, who have been in prison.

I hope that by sharing my story, I can help others who don't conform to traditionally acceptable narratives, we are more than our labels, more than our trauma and more than our worst days. 

I hope that we can come together to celebrate growth, and importantly, look beyond a criminal record, particularly when it comes to employment, we need to help young women rebuild, and that all starts with employment and acceptance.

Tahlia has now recovered and is the CEO of SELF. Image: Supplied.

Tahlia Isaac is a criminologist and speaker represented by Challenge The Label, who advocates for the systematic removal of barriers for women as they reintegrate into society after serving time in prison.

If this post brought up any issues for you, you can contact Drug Aware, Australia's 24hr alcohol and drug support line. You can reach them on (08) 9442 5000 or 1800 198 024.

If this has raised any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) – the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service.

Mamamia is a charity partner of RizeUp Australia, a national organisation that helps women, children and families move on after the devastation of domestic and family violence. Their mission is to deliver life-changing and practical support to these families when they need it most. If you would like to support their mission you can donate here.

Feature image: Supplied.