A year ago, my life looked completely different. I’d been working in a warehouse for six years. Same place, same routine, same people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady, and it paid the bills. I knew what I was doing each day. I knew when my wages would come in. I had a home I could come back to, shut the door, and feel secure.
Then it ended.
The work stopped suddenly — not because I’d done anything wrong, just because that’s how things go sometimes. At first, I thought I’d be fine. I went to an agency and started taking whatever jobs they could give me. One week I’d get a few days’ work, the next week nothing. It was always “we’ll call you” or “we’ll see what’s available,” and half the time the shifts didn’t even cover the bus fare there and back.
I tried to keep up with my bills, but it’s like trying to hold water in your hands. No matter how tight you squeeze, it just runs out. I paid what I could, but eventually I fell behind. First it was the rent. Then the gas and electric. Before I knew it, I was out of my flat and on the streets.
I’d never been in that situation before. Never had to ask anyone for help. I’ve always been independent, kept my problems to myself. But when you’re sleeping in places you’re not supposed to, wondering where you’ll wash the next morning, pride doesn’t keep you warm. I realised I couldn’t fix this on my own.
That’s when I went to First People. Walking in there was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done — not because they weren’t welcoming, but because it felt like admitting I’d failed. But they didn’t see me that way. They didn’t look at me like I was a problem to get rid of. They looked at me like someone who just needed a hand to get back on my feet.
They found me somewhere fixed and clean to live. That first night, sleeping in a proper bed again, I can’t even describe it. It wasn’t just the mattress or the heating — it was the feeling of safety. Knowing no one was going to wake me up and tell me to move. Knowing I could leave my things somewhere without worrying they’d be gone when I got back.
From there, things started to feel possible again. When you don’t know where you’re sleeping each night, you can’t think about the future — you’re too busy just trying to survive the day. But now, with a stable home, I can start making plans. I can look ahead without that constant knot in my stomach.
I’ve got a teenage son, and that’s what drives me. He’s at an age where he needs his dad to be steady, present, and reliable. I don’t just want to be someone he sees now and then. I want to be there for him in a real way — to support him financially, yes, but also to show him what it means to keep going, even when life knocks you down.
First People didn’t just give me a roof over my head — they gave me a chance to rebuild. They’ve helped me with the practical stuff: sorting out benefits while I look for work, helping me update my CV, pointing me towards training opportunities. But they’ve also helped me keep my head straight. It’s easy to lose confidence when everything’s been taken away from you, but they’ve reminded me that my situation doesn’t define me.
I’ve been looking at work options now, not just in warehouses but in other areas too. I’m open to learning something new, taking on training, whatever it takes to get back into a stable job. I want to earn my own way again, and I want my son to see me doing it.
This past year has taught me a lot about what really matters. I used to take stability for granted — the roof over my head, the regular wage, the routine. Losing all that showed me how quickly things can change, but it also showed me that it’s possible to come back from it.
Now, I’ve got the basics sorted: a safe home, a plan for the future, and the determination to make it happen. I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way. And for me, that’s what matters — because every step forward is a step closer to giving my son the life he deserves, and to proving to myself that I can get there.
This isn’t just about getting back to where I was. It’s about building something better. And thanks to the support I’ve had, I believe I can do it.
