The Shit Fairy

By Geoff Pola

Avril's feelings for Dan are confusing. Hardened by institutional life, Avril Maguire sees Dan as someone she can use and manipulate.

She has no concept of consequences and has difficulty adjusting to the psychological abuses by the staff.

Their friendship develops amongst the chaos of her mind, and her past. She inhabits two worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stardust Foundation
• Release date: Nov 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648841807

Geoff Pola

Born in Melbourne, 1949, completing formal studies, Bachelor of Fine Arts, at the University of Ballarat. Geoff Pola's interests in psychiatric art led to a chance meeting with Dr Cunningham Dax in 1997, where he was cataloging the collection of psychiatric art from Aradale Mental Hospital, formally known as Ararat Lunatic Asylum. This was the turning point in his career. Geoff had the privilege of working with people in the disability industry who have fragile and broken minds, plus challenging and complex behaviours. It was here he met some interesting characters and some beautiful minds, filled with dreams and aspirations. He finds it humbling to hold the memories of such souls; they will be always cherished and valued.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Avril was unaware of my attention as she danced with her support worker. The palms of their hands were touching as they mirrored each other’s movement while they rocked to the rhythm of the music. I could only admire the rapport between them. She looked familiar... Avril’s childlike appearance was deceptive. She was cute with her petite figure and spiky hair, belying what could only be described as pure mischief! It wasn’t until some years later that Avril moved to our C.R.U (Client Residential Unit). After dealing with abusive and disruptive behaviours, she came into our lives like a bomb shell! She rejuvenated the house’s ethos. Avril—a being of joy and mischief rolled into one. My association with her over the last fifteen years has had a profound effect on me and the realisation that our paths were entwined was a complete revelation. I am a better person for knowing her, I felt compelled to tell Avril’s story of her uniqueness; confronting yet compelling. Avril Maguire’s strength and resilience against overwhelming odds and social expectations, is just one story of thousands untold.

Having built up a great rapport with Avril, I explained to her that writing a story loosely based on her life might help break down the barriers associated with those with a disability. Avril’s response was to tap her hand on the table in agreement. I have tried to keep the integrity of the main character. My research relied on information from people who have worked with Avril in notorious institutions such as Aradale, originally known as Ararat Lunatic Asylum, and Pleasant Creek, which was situated in Stawell. It’s hard to substantiate some stories, as there was a history of nepotism and not wanting to implicate oneself, as well as the urban myths surrounding these institutions. We follow Avril’s plight as she navigates a not so perfect world which had excluded her for so long.

CHAPTER 1

THE SHIT FAIRY

The Complexities of a Beautiful Mind

To be fair Avril wasn’t keen to participate in this exercise; the hard unbroken line indicates her purpose which could be interpreted as single mindedness. As soon as she finished she banged her fist on the table to shows her displeasure; then covering her face with her hands she giggled?

Avril has spent most of her life in ‘institutional care’ from the age of five, till this present day where she lives in a Residential Care Unit. The closure of these notorious institutions in the mid to late nineteen nineties ended the one-hundred-and-thirty-year history of Aradale. The institute housed the adult population and at its height treated up to nine hundred patients yearly. Although hard to verify, approximately one-third of the patients housed within these walls never made it out of Aradale. The ‘official’ autopsies carried out on wards of the state and the John and Jane Doe’s were further subjected to dismembering for scientific research.

Pleasant Creek in Stawell housed children who were deemed defective. Avril stayed in this institution until she reached the age of twenty. She was transferred to Aradale in 1983. In the mid to late nineteen nineties, government policy was to decommission institutions like Aradale and Pleasant Creek, paving the way for people with a disability to be integrated into the community.

The anticipation of Avril’s arrival was mixed amongst the staff at the George Street C.R.U. Stories surrounding her behaviour were rife with some staff refusing to work with her. Every house has its drama queens, and George Street was no exception.

Avril Maguire was born on the second of November 1962. Diagnosed with a profound disability caused by a genetic abnormality or the mother being in contact with German measles or Chicken Pox whilst being pregnant. Foetal trauma, due to alcohol or drug abuse is thought to be another cause of this condition. The symptoms can be short stature, delayed speech formation, mental retardation and hyperactivity. Avril exhibits all of these symptoms which help to explain her complexity. Anxiety and obsessive behaviour plus her association with trauma and sensitivity to stimuli, make her the person she is. Avril has no speech; she understands little of what is said to her, her ability to process the information sometimes gets jumbled up. That’s when her anxiety takes over and when behaviours of concern happen. It’s a constant struggle for Avril to keep on an even keel.

CHAPTER 2

THE INDUCTION

I was scared! I didn’t know I was being shifted to another house. Standing in front of these people I felt exposed and vulnerable, they were talking about me as if I didn’t exist. I didn’t listen to what they were saying. I just focused on standing in the one spot, with my hands covering my face, I could see the people through the gaps in my fingers, I was on my best behaviour.

During the induction the staff were told how to manage me, my routine, medical needs, my likes and dislikes. They were given a brief history of my time at Aradale and Pleasant Creek.

I could see Danny through the gaps of my fingers, I remembered him from somewhere. His long hair and easy way were familiar. Yet I can’t place him. Maybe it will come to me? The other staff members were staring at me, the fat one on the left was Marlene; she looked mean. Sitting next to her was Quinton who looked calm and didn’t seem to be a threat, possibly someone I could exploit. Melissa had a lot to say, she was the house Supervisor. I don’t handle authority well! But she seems to be calm and assertive, which is reassuring. Sheila who was to be my key support worker was puzzling? All smiles and too good to be true, I need to be wary of her. Moana was sitting next to Melissa; she was different? I was attracted to her for some reason, and I had a feeling we would get along just fine

I had heard stories and seen film footage of the systematic abuse that happened in these Institutions. To see this little person standing in front of me, rocking from side to side was heartbreaking. I felt an instant bond that remains to this day, during the years I have worked with Avril that bond has been tested many times. Not a lot was known about her family history, other than they had no contact with her. Avril‘s mannerisms and demeanour were typical of institutional care. She was submissive yet defiant, adding to her complexity. She was truly institutionalized.

Avril was one of the last to leave Aradale in May 1997. Due to her disability and twenty-four-hour care, it was hard to place her in suitable accommodation. As a result, she was eventually assigned to George Street C.R.U. Our service was classed as rural and remote, the last possible stop for Avril. Because of our remoteness and isolation from the other C.R.U.s, we were largely overlooked by the Department. This combined with a small pool of staff made the workplace challenging. During the induction, staff were told how to control Avril’s behaviour. We were told that she has little to no concept of consequences and that she seems to defy logic. She has a profound disability. Avril’s bedroom was set up with the minimum of possessions, her rag dolls placed on the pillow. Her minimal possessions a stark contrast to the other residents, as was her wardrobe, a motley collection of clothes. No photos to indicate a previous life, her worldly possessions confined to a single room.

When you are ‘institutionalized’ it brings out the very worst in humanity! I am a product of that environment. The person you become is me. Do I like that person? I get angry at times! Yet I like my fingernails being painted. Staff control my behaviour with Timeout. They make me sit on the bathroom floor naked until my body clock screams out; making me feel more anxious. The cycle can escalate for most of the day. Different staff members make it difficult to regain any resemblance of normality. My reality and expectations are not the same as staff. I will always be who I am!

They talk to me like a dog! The sad thing is I respond to this, as it’s all I have known. I don’t understand the jumble in my brain. I don’t know what it’s like to be ‘normal’, or what’s expected of me in a society that’s excluded me for so long! How can I meet these unreal expectations? These thoughts keep turning over in my brain, I’m uncontrollable at times. It’s not me anymore. In my mind I see a person who is small and frightened, fighting to survive in a world I don’t have any comprehension of. My disability has labelled me. I’m a person! I have some awareness of who I am. I laugh and cry. I can be naughty! Hee-hee.

It’s only when I look back that I realise my life and treatment was wrong; I feel like screaming out! Tears are in my eyes. I have no concept of my worth; am I a good person? What is love, am I loved? My past is broken and jumbled in many ways. In my mind there is pain and despair. Plus an overwhelming feeling of helplessness that manifests in anxiety and anger! Danny is speaking for me; I have a limited understanding of what he is saying, but I trust him to talk on my behalf. During the years I have known Dan he has been consistent and never judged me; although I exploited his weaknesses. Danny would agree to this; we share a time and place, Dan would say in his heart. I wish I could say that, but emotions are a difficult concept for me. I can say that Danny was fair game, I made his life miserable, yet he kept coming back for more. Thanks for being there for me.

I’m not complex, what you see is what you get; unpredictable yes. That’s me. I have emotions that confuse me. It’s not being able to connect the dots. I know Dan likes me; he has said so. Yet I treat him like dirt! As with anyone else who tries to control my life. It’s always been me against them! I don’t know any other way. Yet he confuses me? My mind can’t handle complex thoughts, it gets jumbled and then it’s usually Timeout for me! If Dan comes into my dreams, I will see things more clearly. My life is much better now; living in a C.R.U like George Street has given me a lot of freedom that I never imagined. But the staff expectations are unrealistic and waisted on me. HA!

I can make my own bed but need help when changing the sheets. Staff hide my pyjamas, which annoys me no end! My bed is warm; I sit up in bed and straighten my sheets, then jump under the covers. I get tucked in tight - I like that! I feel secure. When sleep comes there’s no noise, I don’t feel anxious when I’m asleep. I’m a better person when I’m asleep. Sometimes I dream, I can talk and fly! My dreams are full of sounds, laughter and mischief! I like myself when I’m asleep.

Dan said I have a wicked laugh! Sometimes I laugh and don’t know why but it feels good; I like that. I have no speech. When I was young, I could say a few words, but from the age of eleven I lost my limited speech. It makes me angry! I can hum to some tunes. I can make noises when I’m angry! When the staff tell me to say thank you, I tap my hand on the bench or table. To get their attention I grab their wrist and walk them to the fridge or bedroom. Generally, my needs are met. Staff members act differently to my requests. Their body language confuses me. If my anxiety or frustration gets too much, it’s Timeout for me!

I’m not like you; I’m wired differently, that’s who I am. Danny says I’m mischief, I like that! When I say ‘I’m not like you’ I mean it’s my disability that sets me apart. If we met you would find it hard to communicate with me, as I have no language. I have antisocial behaviours that would shock you! But I would be on my best behaviour. Once you get to know me you would see, despite my disability, a person who is full of mischief and is impulsive. Dan would say that’s my Achilles heel. Whatever!

CHAPTER 3

TIMEOUT!

The cycle of anxiety and Timeout is something I have no control over; it’s so unfair, although staff would argue that point. For me, anxiety brings on compulsive behaviour! It’s hard to explain, I would compare it to a strict religious upbringing; in the end you don’t question, it’s all you know! That’s what years of institutional care can do to you.

A new change of clothes is the best feeling! It’s like being reborn and whatever happened before can’t hurt you! I relate this to the time I spent in the Shit Ward at Pleasant Creek and my time at Aradale. Combine the above and you have a cycle that to me is addictive! Yes, I’m out of control, yet in a sense I’m in control. Timeout is like a merry-go-round! The repetitiveness can be draining at times and lasts as long as my body clock allows, or until calmness takes over. A new change of clothes completes the cycle. I have nothing good to say about this punishment, as it’s still part of my life. On a bad day I could spend the best part of the day in Timeout! The isolation can calm me, although it’s a painful process. At least I don’t have to deal with people! But the degradation and loss of liberty, not to mention sitting on a cold floor naked is inhumane. My life is restricted, predictable and repetitive! I can be a handful! You might get bored with parts of my story, due to the repetitive nature and discipline that’s required to control my behaviour! That’s when I need someone like Dan to advocate for me.

When I sit with Danny, I like to nestle next to him; sometimes I will play with a blade of grass, twilling it with my fingers. Other times I like to cover my face with my hands and relax, especially on evenings like this; the sting of the sun has abated and there’s a gentle breeze in the air. I don’t think I could be any happier; these moments are rare, and I want it to last. I can feel sleep coming, my eyes feel heavy. I have some reservations about my past! What will Dan think of me? Don’t be silly! I like coffee! Danny says I’m already hyped up, sometimes he can be a knucklehead! Hee-hee.

My needs come before anyone else! I’m wired that way; Dan is just one of any number of people I will exploit for my own ends! Yet I have done things that I don’t understand? I pinched Raelene when Dan was giving her some attention. Staff said I was jealous! I wish I could say that I was and that I cared for Dan, but for me it’s about protecting my patch! Dan is more of a possession; someone I can manipulate. He sees the good in me! It conjures up emotions that I don’t consciously possess, yet I cry when I’m sad and laugh when I’m happy. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry for Danny.

CHAPTER 4

INSTITUTIONAL CARE

Institutional culture had a history of nepotism, plus the covering up of client abuse by staff being complicit in many atrocities. Clients being raped by staff was systematic; taking advantage of the most vulnerable through intimidation and bribery, in which the currency for sexual favours was cigarettes. The rationing of cigarettes to clients assured that the system worked in the staff’s favour. One cigarette would get you oral sex. Two cigarettes could procure intercourse or whatever you wanted. Moral justification!

It saddens me that Avril and thousands of other people with a profound disability were brought up in this culture. Girls were put on the pill before they reached puberty. It could be said that at about this time, Avril lost her limited speech due to the trauma caused during this period.

Prior to and during this period there were misdiagnoses, and people were institutionalised for any number of minor disorders! It took only two doctors’ signatures to commit someone! It is known that husbands would commit their wives rather than go through a messy divorce proceeding. These unfortunate people were subjected to a similar culture as Avril.

A witness remembers seeing a person fitting Avril’s description arriving at Aradale in or around 1982. Avril was transported from Pleasant Creek to Aradale in a van that had a wire mesh cage built in the back. The orderly officer was shocked when she opened the door of the van, to see the naked form cowering in the corner; frightened and shaking like an animal! Avril was covered in excrement, the smell overpowering.

I found it hard to believe when I was told that; Avril was one of two women and twenty-two males assigned to a ward known as Shitty Six at Aradale. Originally this was a male ward, but during the 1980s housed both sexes. My research couldn’t dismiss or verify this claim. The stories of this period in Avril’s life are most distressing.

Avril and another female companion who can’t be named were inseparable. Some say they were joined at the hip. Displaying similar traits, they would walk around hand in hand, as there was less likelihood of being molested or raped. This relationship was formed out of necessity

CHAPTER 5

JOAN OF ARC

When I look in the mirror, I see a small person who has childlike features, yet my body is strong. Dan says I’m bulletproof! People think I’m a lot younger than I really am. I like that! My hair is cut short, so I don’t pull it out! If I start to pull at my hair, the staff will yell at me, Stop Avril! Once I start it’s hard to stop. Staff put baby oil in my hair to make me stop. I don’t like that! Dan tried to make some sense of it, saying I react to things differently than most people, that’s what makes me unique. He said my anxiety and compulsive behaviour makes me do things without thinking of the consequences. I’m not good at that. To me it’s confusing and frustrating.

I smear shit on my body! To protect