'At my lowest point, I was smoking meth as police raided my home. Then one thing changed me.'

There's a kind of silence that only happens in the middle of the night. It's heavy. Still. The kind that makes everything feel louder, even your thoughts.

In that silence, I sat on my bed with a pipe in my hand, the burn of meth still in my throat, thinking, 'this is just another night for me'.

Then came the banging. BANG. BANG. My name was being shouted. "Open up!"

At that point, I didn't know that my husband had already been arrested at another location that same night. All I knew at that moment was that my children were asleep in the other room, and I switched into protection mode.

Watch: Addiction is more common than we know. Actress Jamie Lee Curtis reflects on a life nearly lost to addiction. Post continues below.

I ran down the hallway with both hands in the air, yelling, "I'm just getting my kids! Just getting my kids!" I could sense police swarming the house from all directions as I gathered my children into one room. I looked at them and said, "The police are here, and they're going to come inside."

I was allowed to call a family member to come and collect them, and once they were safely out of the house, everything else began to unfold. They were in the roof, pulling apart the house — cupboards, furniture, the bathrooms, even digging up parts of my backyard. They went through my laundry, my clothes, every part of my home. 

After hours in my home, they took me to another property and raided that too. I hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and I was still in my dressing gown with no bra on. A second lot of detectives arrived — they were loud and intimidating.

Eventually, they took me to a police station. I was interrogated for hours, and when it was over, they didn't even take me home. They dropped me at a random train station, and I had to call my sister-in-law to come and get me.

That night, I was officially charged with drug possession and an unlicensed firearm. Those charges stuck with me for years, and it became nearly impossible to get work because of the judgement, stigma, and assumptions that came with it.

The next morning, I had to show up to work. And I did. On the outside, it might've looked like I was functioning — but on the inside, I had completely disconnected from myself.

My husband was locked up. I couldn't contact him for nearly a week while the prison phone lines were being processed. I was overwhelmed, anxious, ashamed, and barely hanging on.

I didn't stop using straight away. For months, I was stuck in a cycle — spending a lot of my time attempting to come down, isolating myself, trying to regulate my body while pretending everything was fine.

Pania has set up BRAVESPACES to help other women. Image: Supplied.

Even after I came off meth, I was still struggling. I was using recreational cocaine, hanging out with the wrong people, surrounding myself with energy that kept pulling me back down. I was out of the worst of it, but I wasn't well. Not really. I hadn't shifted my life yet — I was just surviving.

Then, I lost my dad. And something in me changed.

I didn't want to numb the pain. I didn't want to check out or escape it. I wanted to actually feel it. And somehow, from that moment, I stopped using. I can't explain it in words, but it was the first time in years I truly chose myself.

Then, when COVID hit, I had a realisation. Something clicked. I started reexamining everything — what I was consuming, what I was allowing into my space, and what I was tolerating in my life. I began to detox from more than just substances.

I started to get rid of the people, the patterns, the beliefs that kept me stuck. That's when the healing began.

It wasn't a clean or perfect journey. It came with anger, grief, guilt and deep discomfort. But I started facing my past. I started questioning why I had spent my whole life trying to be liked, accepted, chosen. I realised how long I had abandoned myself. And for the first time, I started showing up for myself.

When I felt the world wasn't going to give someone like me a space, that's when I decided to create one. And that's how BRAVESPACES was born.

It became a place for women like me — women who've lived through trauma, addiction, shame, burnout, or just deep disconnection from who they truly are. A space to feel seen, to heal, to come back home to yourself without fear of judgement.

I'd love to say that was the end of the challenges, but life wasn't done testing me.

My house was raided again. Twice. I was called into another investigation and told if I didn't show up, I'd be sent to prison. I was interrogated again.

One detective looked around my house and said it was surprisingly clean. He couldn't believe I had a job. That's the part no one tells you about — once you've been labelled, people treat you like you're beyond saving. But I'm not. I never was.

I'm a mother. A wife. A woman who walked through the fire and chose to rise. Today, I'm clean. I'm grounded. I've built something meaningful, something real.

My husband served six years in prison. He's home now, and together we are rebuilding our life. We've been through things most couples couldn't survive — births, deaths, school milestones, every major moment apart. There were times I was angry, grieving, and full of doubt. But we've held on. And we're still here. Still choosing each other.

If you take anything from this story, let it be this: You are not your past. You are not your worst decision. You don't have to explain your worth to anyone.

You are allowed to begin again. To rebuild. To own your story. That's what I did.

And that's why I created BRAVESPACES — for women who are ready to do the same.

Feature: Supplied.