After 28 years lost to addiction, this inspiring Hay mother of eight has found her way back to what matters most.

Amelia Eade was kind enough to come in and speak to me and her son, Elijah, during Elijah’s second week of work experience here at The Riverine Grazier.

She sat across from me with Elijah by her side, speaking with a clarity that can only come from someone who has walked through f ire and emerged on the other side.

At 47, she’s eight years clean after nearly three decades of drug use, a journey that began with devastating loss and ended with fierce determination.

“I don’t live in the past anymore,” she says f irmly. “I live right here, in the present. If you live in the past, it will haunt you and keep you where you are.”

Born in Hay in the late 1970s to Neville and Lorna Eade (née Hey), Amelia spent her childhood as what she calls a ‘farm girl’.

Her family’s 157-acre property was home to ‘every animal you could think of,’ and young Amelia was there every day, caring for livestock and riding horses for Pony Club.

“The most enjoyable time of my life was being on the farm and spending all that time with my mum,” she recalled.

“Dad was there in the background.” Neville was always busy working, as fathers typically did in those days, but it was Lorna who filled Amelia’s world.

Amelia desribes her mother as ‘hard but good’.

Her family’s roots run deep in the district. Her maternal grandmother was a dairywoman before the days of refrigerated milk trucks, and her paternal grandfather worked as a night soil collector, hauling goods with horse and cart.

She even has Chinese heritage through a great-grandfather who was a travelling merchant.

But, when Amelia was just 19, everything changed. Lorna passed away. “That’s where I sort of hit the drug scene,” Amelia said.

“I just lost the plot from there.”

What followed were 28 years that Amelia describes as being present but not truly there. She was what’s called high-functioning, her eight children went to school clean and fed, the house was maintained, routines were kept.

“I was there to cook, clean, wash, and send them off to school,” she said.

“But they didn't get the ‘I love you’ from me because I didn’t get them from my mother.

“She loved me through my tummy, feeding me, and buying me stuff.”

The grief went deeper still.

In 1994, Amelia's sister Michelle was murdered. Family dynamics left Amelia carrying complicated guilt, feelings that she ‘should have been’ the one taken instead of her talented sister who “could do anything with her head and her hands”.

Her father Neville, unable to say no to his only daughter from his marriage, became what Amelia now recognises as an enabler.

“He fed my habit,” she said. “I didn’t have to go out on the street and sell myself or do bad stuff women do, because Dad never said no to me. He was a big support, but for the wrong stuff.”

Then her brother was incarcerated for murder, adding another layer of family trauma.

Through it all, Amelia had children, eight of them, including three she describes as being a ‘tummy mummy’ for families who couldn't have their own.

One of those children, Marshall, has travelled to America and around the world with his adoptive family.

The twins’ parents have since separated, with their father now raising them.

In 2017, Amelia had what she calls ‘a little holiday’, a stint in prison that became the catalyst for change.

“I saw all these different women that were in there for different things, and some of them were just absolutely stunning, beautiful people picking at their beautiful skin,” she remembered.

“You see these people that have got so much potential but they’ve just let it go and chose to do bad shit rather than do something with what they had.”

A month or so after her release, she met Shane, who would become her partner.

She began rebuilding her relationship with her daughter Kyesha, or Kya, the child she describes as ‘the hardest to win back’.

Then came visits with her other children, Richard, Christian, now living in Sydney and working in a factory; Kya, who inherited her great-grandmother’s incredible work ethic; and Jack, a woodcutter whose partner is equally hardworking.

“I wanted it,” Amelia says of her decision to get clean.

“I did it all without rehab.

“There was no counselling.

“I didn’t need any of that because I knew I could do it.” Her advice to others struggling with addiction is direct; “Don’t waste any more of the life that you've got left. If you want something bad enough, you can really have it.”

Today, Amelia's relationship with her father has strengthened.

“Mum couldn't have picked a better father if she’d made him herself,” she said warmly.

Neville is a devoted grandfather to all the kids, regularly coming around for dinner.

She's also found peace with the past, particularly around her children.

“How did I not get a drug user or an alcoholic when they’ve seen what they’ve seen?” she wondered.

“Maybe me being the way I was turned them off wanting to do this. I’m quite proud of that, I am very proud of all my children.”

One of her sons was the first to tell her he was proud of her, words that meant everything.

Now, Amelia helps care for her three grandchildren, Henley, who just started kindergarten at St Mary’s, and two others, which means her daughter can work.

It’s a role she treasures, and one where she’s made a conscious choice to break generational patterns.

“I tell the grandkids that I love them all the time,” she said.

“It’d be nice to hear it every now and again from your kids too, but I understand. It’s a generational thing.”

She acknowledges the 20 years that were lost; “I was there, but I haven’t been there,” but refuses to live in that space anymore.

As our conversation wound down, Elijah sat quietly beside his mother, a young man who came home to her in June last year after living with his aunt Kya for 12 months.

His presence speaks volumes about the family Amelia has rebuilt through sheer determination.

“I’m very proud of myself,” Amelia says when asked. “Very.”

And sitting across from this woman who has walked through unimaginable loss, battled addiction for 28 years, and emerged with her family intact and growing stronger, it’s impossible not to agree.

She should be. You are an inspiration, Amelia, and your life a love letter to others in the midst of struggle. Life is all about lessons, and the strongest amongst us learn from their experiences, take what they have learnt and use it to fortify themselves and make their future all the more stronger for learning.