Saturday, May 2, 2026

Once We Repaired Things – Part 5

Continuing on from http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/04/once-we-repaired-things-text-that.html

After that happened, I felt traumatised, frightened, and completely thrown.

I didn’t know what to do. Again.


What I needed — what I still needed — was simple.


I needed to speak.


I needed to sit across from Paul, look him in the eyes, and understand what had just happened.


But instead, I was left trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all.



A few days later, he called.


And somehow, we were still circling back to that first Sunday, when he overreacted, a moment I still could not fully understand.


I didn’t even know what I was being accused of.


How do you defend yourself against something you don’t remember?

How do you respond to something that was never clearly said?


And worse, how do you process being compared to people from someone else’s past?


People I had nothing to do with.


I am not someone else’s history.


I am my own person.


But in that moment, none of that mattered.


Because he had already decided who I was.


See http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/02/once-we-repaired-things-part-2.html



And that is what broke something in me.


Not just the doubt he expressed.


But the fact that his doubt came without giving me the most basic human right — the right to respond.


The right to be heard.


The right to clarify.


My dignity was stripped down to his interpretation.

My identity reduced to his narrative.

My reality replaced with something distorted and irrational.


And I paid the price for it.



There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to exist inside someone else’s perception of you.


Where you start questioning everything:


What do I say?

How do I say it?

Will this be taken the wrong way?

Am I about to be misunderstood again?


It becomes a form of emotional survival.


A constant state of hyper-awareness.


And as women, we know this too well.


Damned if we do.

Damned if we don’t.


Trying to anticipate reactions.

Trying to soften ourselves.

Trying to avoid triggering something that was never ours to carry.


It was never meant to be a competition.


But somehow, I was losing.


And he was walking away with everything.



What made it worse was not just the loss of him.


It was the loss of what I believed we were building.


A future.

A family.

A life.


As I’ve said, I didn’t come to this unscathed. It’s been years of confronting and repeated harmful and self-centred behaviour from men. I never expected that it would not only be hard, but virtually impossible, to find one decent man in our “progressive” society. 


It was my last hope. 


And I was left with nothing but questions and grief.


When I lost my dad to suicide, all I was also left with there was nothing but questions and grief. 



Every day became the same.


Tears.

Tears.

Tears.


I would cry, then try to hold it together, then cry again.


And all of this was happening while I was still walking into a workplace that had already become toxic.


A place where I was being watched.

Judged.

Treated as though something was wrong with me.


The gaslighting was already there.


The quiet, passive-aggressive behaviour.


The subtle undermining, as though I needed more harm layered on top of what I was already carrying.


There was nowhere to breathe.


Nowhere to escape.



Until one day in February, something inside me said:


Enough.


I woke up with a deep, instinctive fear that if I didn’t do something — anything — my health was going to collapse.


And for the first time in my life, I didn’t overthink it.


I didn’t plan.


I didn’t analyse.


I just acted.



That day at work was unbearable.


The pressure.

The constant demands.

The lack of support.


It felt like I was doing two high-level jobs for the price of one.


There was no space to recover.

No space to think.

No space to be human.


Even as I walked out, one of my staff followed me — still venting, still demanding, still taking.


I had nothing left to give.



So I got into my car…


…and I drove straight to a travel agent..


…and I booked a ticket to Italy.



Even now, I know how unlike me that was.


I don’t make impulsive decisions.


But that day, I did.


I needed something to hold onto.


Something beyond the pain.


Something that reminded me there was still a world outside of everything that was breaking me.



June 2017.


An emotional escape for one month.


Sydney to Abu Dhabi.

Abu Dhabi to Rome.

Rome to Florence.


Booked.


I didn’t know where I would stay.


I didn’t know what I would do.


All I knew was that I needed to get away.



At some point leading up to the trip, the question shifted.


Am I the problem?


That’s when Tuscany became more than a trip.


It became a test.


If I went somewhere where nobody knew me…

If I could connect with people there…

If I could exist without being misread, misjudged, or diminished…


Then maybe — just maybe — it wasn’t me.



That’s how I found Montalcino.

Montalcino — where I went to find out if I was the problem…or if it was everything around me.


A small town in Tuscany.

Rolling hills.

Brunello wine.

Stillness.


I read about it in a book.

Cross-referenced it with another.


And something in me just knew.


That’s where I need to be.


Even in the smallest corners of Montalcino, there was a sense of community — something I was searching for without even realising it.


Then, just before Easter, Paul called.


I was sitting in bed, reading about Montalcino, when my phone rang.


The conversation was…easy…warm…normal.


Like none of the damage had happened.


He told me he was going to Italy too, later in the year, with his mum.


And then he asked:


“Do you want to catch up for a coffee after Easter?”


I said yes, because despite everything, (or rather, because of it), I needed that conversation.


I needed to understand.


I needed to clarify.


I needed to repair what never needed to break in the first place.



I felt relief, that this time…


I would finally be heard.


To be continued…



References that led me to Montalcino:


The Wisdom of Tuscany by Ferenc Máté

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7034969


The most beautiful villages of Tuscany by James Bentley and Hugh Palmer (Photographer)

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/225684



See also what was happening at the same time:


http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2024/07/bullying-discrimination-and-harassment.html


http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2024/07/part-2-bullying-discrimination-and.html


For the link below, see especially the point after:


I wasn’t even thinking about my holiday to Italy, and didn’t pack until 5am the day I left. 


http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2024/07/part-3-bullying-discrimination-and.html

Wednesday, April 29, 2026

“Is It Safe to Open?” What That Question Revealed About SIRA NSW - December 2021

“Don’t patronise me.”

That is how I responded.


Because by December 2021, this was no longer just about workplace harm or an insurer withholding statutory entitlements.


It had become something far more serious.


A regulator, with clear statutory functions, had been put on notice—and had failed to act.

 

I had received registered mail from SIRA NSW.


I didn’t open it. Not immediately.


The unopened file — when the system meant to protect you has already made itself unsafe.


Because by that point, every interaction connected to this process had become unpredictable, destabilising, and unsafe.


So I asked a simple question:


“Is it safe to open?”


The reply came from a SIRA NSW Senior Complaints Manager.


“Although it is up to your interpretation of what is ‘safe’ for you to open, SIRA would not send you anything that we identify as unsafe.”  


That response was not reassurance.


It was a deflection of responsibility.


It reframed safety as subjective—mine—while ignoring the context that had made that question necessary.


What followed escalated the situation.


I was informed that:

  • my complaint had been “finalised”
  • SIRA would not be engaging in further communication
  • my continued contact constituted an “unreasonable demand”
  • future correspondence may be filed without reply or restricted  

And then, framed as concern, came the most revealing part.


An offer to contact my treating practitioners—not to assist with my recovery, not to facilitate return to work, but to ensure I “understand that [my] complaint has been finalised.”  



How dare they.


That was not her place.


That was not SIRA’s role in that moment.


What SIRA was required to do—what it is legally empowered and obligated to do—was something entirely different.


They were meant to enforce compliance.



The insurer and the employer had clear statutory and work health and safety obligations.


They were required to:

  • contact my nominating treating doctor
  • engage with my treating health professionals
  • implement the agreed Injury Management Plan
  • develop a return-to-work plan aligned with that plan
  • support my safe recovery in my substantive role

They did none of this.


And yet I did.


Before the system broke down completely, I engaged properly.


I worked with my treating practitioners.


I worked with the case manager.


We agreed on an Injury Management Plan.


A lawful, structured pathway back to work.


A return to my role—


a secure, full-time position I had held for over twenty years,


at HEW 8 Step 4,


in a highly specialised professional capacity,


with a clear career trajectory ahead of me.



And then—


the case manager disappeared.


No replacement.


No continuity.


No enforcement.


No intervention.



So when SIRA’s senior complaints manager offered to contact my treating practitioners, it was not just inappropriate.


It was indefensible.


Because the only parties who had failed to engage those practitioners—


were the very parties SIRA was supposed to regulate.



At the moment I needed stability the most—


when my income had been withheld,


when my home was at risk,


when everything I had worked for was under threat—


SIRA chose to:

  • close the complaint
  • return the evidence
  • disengage from the substance
  • and communicate in a way that was dismissive, patronising, and degrading

That has consequences.



That moment—that tone—escalated my psychological injury.


It reinforced fear.


It placed me in a constant state of self-protection.


Trying to seek help from a system that had the power to stop the harm—


while bracing for further harm from that same system.



At no point did SIRA:

  • engage with the evidence I provided
  • explain any investigative process
  • outline findings
  • or demonstrate enforcement action

Instead, the file was closed.


Without transparency.


Without procedural fairness.


Without accountability.



The NSW public sector is bound by the Code of Ethics and Conduct.


It requires:

  • integrity
  • accountability
  • respect
  • acting in the public interest
  • fair and transparent decision-making

What I experienced was the opposite.


And it did not occur in isolation.


It occurred in the context of a regulator failing to perform its core function.



And then 2022 began.


Nothing reset.


Nothing improved.


The same regulator.


The same position.


The same absence of enforcement.


But the consequences for me continued.


No income I was legally entitled to rely on.


No enforced injury management.


No return-to-work pathway.


Only a system that had declared the matter “finalised,” while the underlying breaches remained.



I have recently lodged a formal complaint with the NSW Ombudsman.


That complaint addresses:

  • the conduct of the Senior Complaints Manager
  • and the broader maladministration of SIRA NSW

Because what occurred was not simply poor communication.


It raises serious questions about administrative conduct, regulatory failure, and accountability.



But as with all such processes—


it takes time.


And time is something injured workers do not have when:

  • their income has been unlawfully cut or withheld
  • their health is deteriorating
  • and their stability is under threat


There has already been a “special inquiry” into SIRA complaints handling, that was tabled in NSW Parliament in August 2025.


And yet—


nothing changed.


The same conduct.


The same approach.


The same harm.



So the question must be asked:


Was that investigation about reform—or about containment?


Because from where I stand—


the harm did not stop.


It continued.


So now I, as one of the “other” complainants in that “report”, is speaking up, just as I had informed SIRA NSW that I would be doing, if they continued to refuse enforcing statutory compliance on ALL KEY STAKEHOLDERS. 


Earlier in 2021, I told SIRA NSW that I would find other ways to be heard. 



WHS Duties vs Conduct — Legal Accountability Snapshot


Duties:

  • Ensure psychological safety
  • Prevent further harm where risk is known
  • Enforce compliance with injury management and return-to-work obligations
  • Act on credible evidence
  • Uphold fair, transparent regulatory processes


Conduct:

  • Failure to act on evidence
  • Premature closure of complaint
  • Return of records without explanation
  • Patronising and dismissive communication
  • No enforcement of insurer or employer obligations
  • Conduct that escalated psychological harm


Impact:

  • Aggravation of psychological injury
  • Ongoing financial harm
  • Loss of safety and trust in the system
  • Prolonged exposure to unresolved workplace risk


Where risk is known—and harm is foreseeable—


failure to act is not neutral.



Ministerial Accountability — This Sits With Government


SIRA NSW operates under the authority of the NSW Government.


Responsibility therefore extends beyond the agency.


It sits with the Minister for Customer Service and Digital Government, Jihad Dib, and ultimately the Premier, Chris Minns.


Where a regulator fails to:

  • act on evidence of statutory non-compliance
  • enforce obligations
  • uphold public sector standards
  • and protect an injured worker’s legal entitlements

that is not an isolated failure.


It is a failure of governance.



I asked if it was safe to open the mail.


But the real issue was never the package.


It was whether the system responsible for enforcing the law—and protecting injured workers—was functioning at all.


On the evidence available to me—


it was not.


And the wage theft continued…

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 233.



References & Frameworks


NSW Government Complaint Handling Policy


https://www.nsw.gov.au/departments-and-agencies/customer-service/publications-and-reports/complaint-handling-policy


Summary:

This policy sets the standard for how complaints must be handled across NSW Government agencies. It requires that complaints are:

  • Handled respectfully and fairly
  • Assessed objectively and without bias
  • Responded to in a timely and transparent manner
  • Used as an opportunity to identify and address systemic issues
  • Not dismissed or restricted without proper consideration and explanation

It also emphasises that complainants—particularly those in vulnerable circumstances—must not be treated in a way that discourages or penalises them for raising concerns.


Relevance to this post:

The premature closure of my complaint, the lack of transparency regarding any investigation, and the restriction of communication raise serious questions about compliance with this policy.


In addition, the conduct of the Senior Complaints Manager at SIRA NSW was degrading, dismissive, and unacceptable in the context in which I was engaging with the agency. Rather than responding with the care, objectivity, and professionalism required under the Complaint Handling Policy, the communication I received contributed to a heightened level of psychological distress at a time when I was already vulnerable.


This did not occur in isolation. It followed earlier interactions with SafeWork NSW that I experienced as dismissive and, at times, discriminatory from around September 2020. Instead of the complaint process acting as a safeguard against further harm, the manner in which my complaint was handled compounded that harm.


Taken together, these actions raise serious concerns as to whether the principles of respectful engagement, procedural fairness, and harm minimisation—central to the NSW Government Complaint Handling Policy—were upheld in practice.


NSW Ethical Framework & Code of Ethics and Conduct

https://www.nsw.gov.au/nsw-government/ethics-hub/ethical-framework-and-code-of-ethics-and-conduct-for-nsw-government-sector-employees


Summary:

This framework governs the conduct of all NSW public sector employees. It requires:

  • Integrity — acting honestly and in the public interest
  • Trust — delivering on commitments and acting transparently
  • Service — placing the public at the centre of decision-making
  • Accountability — taking responsibility for decisions and actions

It also requires that public officials:

  • Treat people with respect and dignity
  • Exercise their functions without bias, prejudice, or improper purpose
  • Avoid conduct that could cause harm or diminish public trust

Relevance to this post:

The tone, conduct, and handling of my complaint—particularly the dismissive and patronising communication, lack of engagement with evidence, and failure to act—raise serious concerns about adherence to these ethical obligations.


These frameworks exist to protect the public. The question is whether they are being applied—and enforced—when it matters most.