Lloyd
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
Lloyd is in his 60s and has bipolar disorder.
‘I have a broken mind that can be wonderful at times and absolutely zombie at other times,’ Lloyd told the Royal Commission. ‘I spent three and a half years as a zombie and other times the mind can be quite quick-firing and full of ideas and coming up with solutions.’
A doctor diagnosed Lloyd in his 20s.
‘That was a shock to my system and I suffered the consequences of that diagnosis ever since.’
Lloyd had a successful career in finance until a family member disclosed his diagnosis to his employer. Lloyd said he eventually lost his job, ‘which had a massive financial impact’.
‘I lost a minimum of half a million dollars and I went into, what I call, financial suicide.’
Lloyd said the government appointed a financial manager while he was interstate on holidays. They gave him no money to live on.
‘All my accounts were frozen. All I had was a few spare dollars in my pocket, and somehow I managed to get back [home] … They did my council rates and other expenditure. But as far as stuff for myself to eat, I had no money … I took out loans left, right and centre … Buggered up my credit rating.’
Lloyd slept in his car to save money when he travelled to see his psychiatrist.
‘[The psychiatrist] knew I slept in the back of the car. And his frame of reference is, “That is unusual for a professional person to sleep in the back of the car.”’
The psychiatrist gave him two choices – ‘You can voluntarily go into the psychiatric ward of hospitals, or you can go in as an involuntary patient.’
Lloyd went voluntarily but said, once admitted, he wasn’t allowed to leave. He spent three weeks ‘locked up’ in the ward.
‘The best nurse [treated] all of us inmates [who were] incarcerated, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, as human beings regardless of the fact that we were suffering from the hidden broken brain and various stages of repair … She would … go into the kitchens and scavenge cheese, sandwiches, sweets, crackers, and then come to a table and share the food with us as human beings, not as inmates.’
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.