As a parent with a boy in primary school and another at university she is well aware of the generational risks of drugs but it would be her 38-year-old husband whose secret addiction would nearly destroy their family.

Despite a combined income of well over $200,000 they are now deep in debt after aggressive banks gave him a no- questions-asked line of credit he used to feed his drug habit.

She has spent the last eight months trying to drag her husband back from an Ice addiction that is threatening to become an epidemic.

This is her story. All names have been changed.

For me is was lust at first sight when I met Frank at the local footy club more than 12 years ago but it took me a few years to convince him that I was the one for him.

We clicked from our first date and he soon moved in with my nine-year-old son and me. Life couldn't have been any better.

He proposed in 2006 and we married two years later when I was six months pregnant with our son, Richard.

After staying home for four months I returned to work as a state manager for a national company while Frank was working interstate on a major building project.

We had a combined income of around $250,000, a couple of nice cars plus all the modern toys such as Foxtel, 3D TVs, a surround sound system and a healthy $400,000 mortgage.

It was at child-care that we first saw some behavioural problems with Richard, as he wasn't relating well to other children.

John, my eldest, was in year 12 when he told me he had read a book about a little boy with Asperger Syndrome (an autism condition) and that Richard reminded him of the little boy. I then had a discussion with the child-care staff and we decided it wouldn't hurt to get him tested. After many tests he was finally diagnosed with autism.

I tried discussing the diagnosis with Frank but he was in denial and took the view "people are too quick to diagnose, there's nothing wrong with him" and we "should we get a second opinion".

I read up on autism, and knew in my heart that Richard was autistic, and to be honest the diagnosis was a relief. Suddenly we were eligible for government help as part of the early intervention program.

All this time Frank was working interstate and it was starting to take its toll on us as a family. He would work for three weeks straight and then come home for a weekend.

I asked him to tell his employer he needed to stay and work in Melbourne in the New Year as his son had been diagnosed with autism. With Richard starting school he needed his father to be with us.

Frank came home and tried to settle into family life but it was very hard. He felt Richard had bonded more with me and he felt like a stranger in his own home. Finally he started to say he thought he was suffering depression and would often cry, opening up about Richard saying he blamed himself (autism is usually hereditary from the males).

I spent many a night trying to tell Frank that Richard was still the beautiful little boy he was before he was diagnosed – this all fell on deaf ears.

For the next three months, our marriage went downhill and we were always fighting. He had been to the doctors and was prescribed anti-depressants but told me but they didn't work.

The usual pattern was we would start fighting around Wednesday, have a terrible weekend, then go  OK on Monday. Then it would start again.

I often thought Frank's eyes looked glazed and accused him of possibly being on drugs, but he always denied it and said he had just had a Red Bull or it was the gym potions he was taking.  Frank went to the gym a few nights a week - or so I thought.

I would wake up in the middle of the night and Frank was gone (he claimed he drove to clear his mind).

I'd message and call him and he wouldn't answer. This didn't only go on for days; it went on for weeks and a few months. I have lost count of the number of nights I would cry myself to sleep and pace up and down the house wondering if I was going to get a knock on the door to be told there's been a terrible accident.

During these dark hours Frank would often text me for hours on end, that he was not good enough for me and we would be better without him.

I would feel guilty and beg him to come home, always reminding him of my love for him and about his little boy who idolised his Dad and needed him. I would often send him photos of Richard and tell him he misses his Daddy. Frank always came home.

After another savage argument Frank finally told me he had a problem and needed help and that problem was ice – a type of methamphetamine.

He had dabbled with speed and marijuana before we were married but now in his late 30s he had settled down as a family man.

I was very supportive of because I thought, like all those years ago, he would be able to quit easily. But this was different.

I thought if I stayed with him he wouldn't be able to go and score – I took his keys and he seemed to be saying and doing the right things to stay clean.

What I didn't know until later was this drug was bigger than that. Frank would tell me he was going for a walk at night for fresh air and later I was to find out that the drug dealers came to him. Instead of driving to score, he just walked to score.

I took him to the doctors and he was prescribed Valium but it was given to me to look after, as the doctor was concerned about Frank's addiction.

One night whilst watching TV he stole them and overdosed. In the hospital he kept saying that he was able to quit 10 years ago, so why couldn't he quit now.

He entered a 10-day live-in rehab treatment plan and he came home very confident and sure he had kicked the drug and would never touch it again.

He was ready to go back to work but what I didn't know was that he was sourcing his drugs from workmates. According to the Health and Safety officer 40 per cent of construction workers are using drugs.

When he was made redundant he went straight back on the ice even harder than before. It was this time that things got really bad in the house and police were called a few times. I came home one time to find Frank had bolted all the doors from the inside. He was often paranoid and I was spending more time with my parents to shield Richard from all of this.

As I write this now, I have tears streaming down my face because it reminds me of how helpless I felt. Frank refused to go back into rehab and he just slipped further and further away from me.

He was losing weight, his clothes were hanging off him, his face started to come out in sores and  no matter what I did I couldn't seem to help.

Although I still loved him, I started to resent and hate him for what he was doing to us. Every other day I was at the police station and started to get information on restraining orders and how to gain custody of my son.

I controlled all of our money so in my mind if Frank didn't have access to the funds, he couldn't buy drugs - or so I thought.

I checked my online credit card statement with my phone and panicked when I noticed he had withdrawn cash from my credit card – how did he do it?

I was later to find out he would go to the car, take my credit card, withdraw cash and then put the credit card back into my purse hoping I was none the wiser.

When we thought he was going to the gym, he was going to score. I couldn't work out where the money was coming from. Next thing credit cards started arriving in the post, I saw an email from a bank pre-approving him for a $20,000 personal loan, and he just needed to email his pay slip.

The pattern was he would not sleep for a few nights then he would sleep for days on the come down.

Once when he crashed I answered his mobile and it was a call from a bank.

I said to the lady on the phone, I know you can't speak to me because of the privacy act but I just want you to know that  my husband is a drug addict and shouldn't be given a loan. She said, "Thank you, we will contact him at another time".

He had a few small credit cards and he extended the limits on them as well as getting a new credit card. I was receiving emails and letters all the time, it was clear he was just going online and applying for credit.

We had the whole family there in May for Richard's sixth birthday but there was no Frank, he didn't come home  but arrived the next morning.

It broke my heart but he was not the man I knew and loved. I was mad at him, he was high so I dropped Richard off at my parents and escaped for a few hours.

He made all the usual promises and went back into rehab. When he came out he started attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings and everything seems to be going great.

I had to go to the football for a work function and the first time he was on his own he relapsed.

As soon as I got home from the function I knew something was wrong. Frank was awake, edgy and we started to fight.

The more he denied it, the more I accused him of being a drug addict bum who needed to get out of my life.

I packed up Richard on the Saturday morning and went to my parents. This time I meant business and began looking for rental properties.

I'm not sure what it was about this time but Frank begged me to come home. I did and he broke down and told me that he needed me in his life and we were all he had.

I couldn't leave him, this was a broken man before me - I decided to be there for him one more time.

Tomorrow marks Frank being clean for eight weeks and he seems to be going strong.

Is it easy? Hell no, we talk most nights about how he is feeling, the demons he is facing and we are constantly reminded of how this has affected our lives.

Frank finally had a new job to go to but it was in the neighbouring suburb to where he used to go and score drugs so he opened up and told me he was really struggling with that.

It was too big a risk and so he quit, starting a new job two weeks ago, which is only 10 minutes from home.

It is half the pay but so far so good. As I sit here and write this, I am very optimistic and positive about the future.

For me it is very important for Frank to realise that I love him more than ever, I am proud of him and I am trying to constantly remind him of the good life we have ahead of us.

Our life will never be the same though. I have had to take out a $50,000 personal loan to help support us and pay back some of the debt; although I have a great job, no family is ever prepared for something like this.

I would never have believed this could happen to us but no one is immune.

It could happen to you.