It's been surreal to watch friends, family and the broader public thrust so suddenly into a world I have inhabited for years: figuring out how to navigate Centrelink.

The confusing bureaucracy and red tape can leave your head spinning.

It's even more surreal to see empathy in the community shift as many understand for the first time the chaos that comes with losing your income.

Applying for Centrelink is a double-edged sword: it can make you feel protected but can also leave you utterly powerless. The hoops you must twist and contort through to receive a payment become increasingly frustrating. I cannot tell you the number of times I have been left sobbing on the phone to Centrelink.

What more people are beginning to understand now is that no one chooses poverty. No one chooses to drop out of society and disengage with their community, to let go of all their hopes and dreams. We get sick. We get old. We become redundant. We have mental health problems. We have to look after sick family members.

For some, accessing welfare is a new experience

For many Australians welfare has just become personal. ( ABC News: Edwina Seselja )

For many, this will be the first time needing to access welfare. But for the rest of us the nightmare is familiar. The queues, the waiting, the endless questions asked multiple ways is only the beginning.

Perhaps this pandemic will help us all to understand that we must stop branding people deserving, or undeserving, poor.

Over the years I have been labelled a "bludger", a "junkie", a "derro", when actually I was a young woman trying to survive after almost a decade trapped by a predator from childhood: fed drugs, beaten, sexually abused and left homeless when I tried to escape.

I dragged myself through a degree hoping to not just survive, but to thrive.

But I have often been treated like a pariah for continuing to rely on welfare as I struggle with many different physical and mental health problems that often keep me out of the workforce.

Tara's youth support worker helped her find a path to a new life but it's not always easy. ( Supplied )

When you lose your job you discover very quickly that the standard of living you were used to is unachievable on a welfare supplement.

You are at the mercy of government assistance to juggle healthcare, rent and food and life becomes a game of survival, rather than getting back on your feet.

Whether you find yourself at Centrelink because coronavirus left you unemployed, or are there because you were born with a disability or illness, thrust into poverty due to family violence or homelessness, we are all part of a community that should not leave the poor, sick or elderly to fend for themselves.

These are our family members, our loved ones or our children in need of a better future.

Tara's usual payment makes it almost impossible for her to afford the healthcare she needs. ( Supplied: Ethan Robson Photographer )

A paradox in a crisis

It's paradoxical that this coronavirus crisis has more than doubled my government JobSeeker assistance payments, from $550 to $1100 a fortnight. For the first time in decades I will no longer be living below the poverty line.

My usual payment makes it almost impossible for me to afford the healthcare designed to solve the problems that have left me dependent on welfare in the first place.

I can now afford more of the healthcare I desperately need that is harder to access in the public healthcare system.

That will leave me in a better position to work in a career I am passionate about. I deeply believe that the argument for keeping welfare payments low as a disincentive is wrong. Having higher welfare means people can afford to pay rent, stay healthy and get back on their feet, and into the workforce.

My experience of the welfare system has left me with plenty of tips to share about how to deal with sudden unemployment and life on welfare.

Dealing with Centrelink can leave you with anxiety and frustration. ( AAP: James Gourley )

When negotiating Centrelink it is this: Illegitimi non carborundum — don't let the bastards grind you down.

I don't mean the staff: many have good intentions and genuine empathy. But decades of poor policy has created a system that is punitive and oppressive.

The reality is you must speak to someone across a desk who is often overworked, unsympathetic, or worse — condescending.

I often advise people to learn the name of the person they are dealing with and say it back to them. It promotes empathy and believe me you want empathy, even just a crumb.

Dealing with the system leaves you with constant anxiety, frustration and a feeling of stigmatisation.

Yet never forget to contain your frustrations.

You must remain polite, grateful, composed and never challenge the opinion of the representative lest you become what they expect you to be: an unruly, derelict no-good-nik. Remember there will always be a security guard nearby, just waiting for you to lose your cool.

Just to get to the position of being able to speak with a Centrelink representative means you will have run the gauntlet of paperwork and bureaucratic minutia: hours and sometimes days of calling, form-filling, running around to find documents from landlords or previous employers, and going in to the office or uploading those documents then calling back to make sure they were received.

I have learnt that it is vital to have copies of all the documents you supply. If they get lost, which they often do, you'll be blamed. Going into the Centrelink office can be the worst way of applying for assistance as hard copies of documents can easily get lost in transit.

Uploading them to your account, and calling up and waiting on hold while you do housework, can be a better way to ensure your forms will be seen.

You have to cross your Ts and dot all your Is, or risk being left without rental help, or worse, a robodebt (and that's always a risk)

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A silver lining in coronavirus

It's paradoxical that as well as boosting my income, COVID-19 and the sudden mass-joblessness it brought with it may have forced an acknowledgement that the system needed to be simplified.

Now you can file your intent to claim without mountains of paperwork, so you can pay your overdue bills and rent in arrears.

And a freeze on evictions means I don't have to worry about homelessness for a while.

Some people worry that increasing welfare payments and simplifying access to them is going to tempt people out of the workforce.

But don't for a minute think that is true.

Just because Centrelink is our safety net doesn't mean it should be a poverty trap. We can see that people don't want to be on welfare and stuck at home. We get it.

COVID-19 has made it starkly clear that disparaging people who rely on Centrelink makes no sense.

The question is why didn't we get it before?

I may need welfare but don't make the mistake of thinking I haven't contributed to Australian society. ( Supplied )

Just like those who have lost their jobs in this crisis, if long-term welfare recipients had jobs, we would not need welfare.

Welfare is there so that when illness strikes, tragedy, redundancies or age-based discrimination, market collapse, natural disasters and yes, even pandemics, then we can continue to survive without falling into a poverty spiral.

In the wake of COVID-19 you may be seeing the cracks: who will care for your sick father? How can you access the healthcare you need? How long will it take to get better?

Now more than ever the government must pay attention not just to welfare payments but the entire social safety net.

It shouldn't have to take a pandemic to realise: We are all in this together.

Tara Schultz is a freelance writer.