I was adopted as a kid, and for as long as I can remember, I felt like I didn’t know who I was. That’s not something you just shake off. It’s like a shadow that follows you, even on the brightest days. I tried to carry on as best I could, but deep down, I never really felt settled in myself. Over time, that feeling ate away at me, and I started struggling with my mental health.
Addiction followed. Once it took hold, it didn’t let go for a long time — 35 years, to be exact. That’s a long time to be carrying something that heavy. There were ups and downs, moments when I thought I’d turned a corner, but the pull was always there.
By 2015, I’d lost almost everything, and I ended up street homeless. There’s a kind of exhaustion that comes with being on the streets that you can’t describe unless you’ve been there. It’s not just the physical cold or the lack of sleep — it’s the feeling that the rest of the world is moving on without you, like you’ve been left on pause while life carries on in the background.
Eventually, I was put in touch with First People, and things began to change. Now, I live in a house they provide. Having a roof over my head is huge, but what’s made the difference for me is having something to get up for each day. For me, that’s the allotment.
First People acquired a patch of land, and I’ve been running it from the very start. When I first saw it, it was overgrown, messy, and a bit overwhelming. But bit by bit, I cleared it. Dug the soil, turned it over, got it ready for planting. There’s something about working with your hands in the earth that’s grounding. It gives you a sense of purpose you can feel in your bones.
The plan is to make it a proper community space. Somewhere people can come if they’re feeling lonely, if they need to clear their head, or if they just fancy lending a hand. And of course, we’ll be growing food — enough so that anyone in need can take some home.
It’s already helped me more than I can say. On the days when my head’s not in the right place, I can go down to the allotment, pick up a spade, and just work. The noise in my mind quiets down when I’m there. I think it’s because it’s not just about keeping myself busy — it’s about building something that matters, something that other people can benefit from too.
I know the allotment won’t fix everything in my life, but it’s a start. And for someone who’s spent years feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, creating a space where other people can feel welcome… that’s something worth holding onto.
