'I am done with hope now': Two years on, bushfire victims still homeless

She could never have predicted that more than two years later, she would still be regularly sleeping in her car, scared, vulnerable and without a permanent home. Homelessness can happen to anyone.

Her home was still smouldering as she watched on on New Years Eve 2019.

From a rented pub room in Moruya, with her two children watching on, Amanda called insurance. She was greatly under-insured, and even then, it took her insurance company 10 months to pay her.

Over the next few weeks, the fires pursued her family; they were evacuated from accommodation further and further north up the coastline every night. She lived in 24 different places throughout 2020, all while continuing to work remotely from home.

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"I apparently fell through the cracks," Amanda said, regarding financial support to bushfire victims.

"Most of the help was advertised on Facebook. I don't use Facebook so I missed out on a lot."

She did receive a $20,000 grant from the Red Cross and $7000 from the Salvation Army, both of which were used as a deposit for a tiny home. Four months later, as she was packing her belongings to permanently resettle into her tiny home, she received a phone call: a tree had fallen on the tiny home the day it was installed on her property. Her would-be home was crushed. Her insurance claim was rejected because 72 hours had not passed since she took out the policy. It took 18 months to rebuild the tiny home.

She added an extension, and while the renovation was still underway, the floods hit Mogo in December 2021, destroying her progress.

She now lives in a tiny home shed - six metres by six metres, including kitchen, bedrooms and a bathroom.

The fires burnt most vegetation on her block, and she lives in fear that, like the tiny home, her little shed will be crushed. There are 15 dead trees on her property that she cannot afford to remove - the one she felled cost her $2500.

Four adults holding hands would only just reach around the trunk of the biggest gum tree on her property. It was smoking for a week after the fires, the insides burning away, creating a cavernous trunk.

"Because it was hollowed, it's now a termite haven," Amanda said. "All these branches are just dropping and they're completely hollowed and full of termites.

"When it drops a limb, it is the size of tree. It's a scary thing."

Amanda is constantly analysing and assessing wind conditions and on windy nights, she flees.

"If the wind comes from the north, we just run because then it's going to drop on the house," she said.

On these nights, the family of three - and two dogs - sleep in the car. Often they stay in Mogo carpark, where there are public toilets, sometimes in Batemans Bay. With each trip, Amanda is filled with dread that she might return to find her little shed squashed.

This fear, compounding on trauma after trauma, has a psychological effect on Amanda, and her family.

"I'm so stressed out all the time," she said. "I try really hard not to show it because my son has PTSD and has panic attacks. He is constantly exhausted and stressed. He is having difficulty going to school. I have to remain calm.

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"It stresses me out. I just want to live like a normal person.

"I hate that I can't keep my kids safe."

Amanda had to leave her work at the end of 2020, because "rebuilding is almost a fulltime job".

"Trying to navigate all of the help: I've never filled out so many forms in my life," she said.

Amanda cried in front of the Minister for Emergency Services and Resilience Steph Cooke on the minister's recent trip to Mogo, and was offered mental health support.

"They're not listening," Amanda said. "I told them what I need. I don't need mental health support. We should all be in houses right now."

She feels abandoned and forgotten - hopeless.

"I am done with hope now," she said.

She is still fighting to rebuild. With COVID, materials are scarce and the workers to carry out the labour even harder to source. She is frustrated she has to pay for a compliance certificate to convert her shed - which stands directly on the footprint of her old house - into a permanent dwelling.

"It's not a garage anymore, I'm living in it and the council have told me to either take it down or have it pass a compliance certificate," she said.

"I was outraged when I found out we had to pay for [the building certificate] again. We've already been through all of these disasters. Why do we have to pay to develop a piece of land that already had housing on it?"

She recently received her third letter from the council informing her she cannot continue to live in the shed.

Her pleas to the SES for help removing the dangerous tree were directed to Eurobodalla Shire Council, who directed Amanda to the rural fire service, who in turn direct her to the SES or the council. Amanda finds the cycle infuriating. She feels helpless.

"I'm just trying to get all the debris that is still left and all the dead things removed from my block. That would be great."