Homelessness is an interesting thing, really. Our perception of it is of people sleeping rough on the streets who have usually ended up there through a series of catastrophic events from abuse, mental illness or a financial breakdown. For many, homelessness is also about addiction – whether before the homelessness or as a result of the homelessness. And there is also the perception that those who are homeless are from underprivileged backgrounds. But this perception of homelessness is only the tip of the iceberg.
What many people don’t seem to realise is that it can genuinely happen to anyone and everyone. It can happen to the educated, those in good jobs, people who are from middle class backgrounds, indeed are middle class themselves. And for people who have no history of addiction, abuse or poor mental health. What unites everyone in the issue of homelessness, however, is a series of catastrophic events.
This time three years ago, I was the Chief Executive of an economic agency, my son attended a prestigious private school and we lived in a lovely, rented, historic ex-farmhouse. I drove a Range Rover Sport, my husband an Audi Q5. We lived an easy life where I went around the supermarket without thinking really about how much what I wanted to buy would cost. I bought what was on my list, a list I didn’t even think about when I wrote it. The freezer was full, the fridge was full and the cupboards were full. Our wardrobes were full of good quality clothes, the bills were paid and life was just…normal.
Three years later, and life could not be more different. We are, in effect, homeless.
My son no longer attends his school, he barely has any clothes that fit him properly, and I have often walked around Aldi calculating the cost of what I was buying as I placed food in the trolley for the week to make sure the bill was within my means. We drive a now very rickety Mercedes which my father-in-law gave us a couple of years ago when life began to go downhill. We are in mountains of debt that we cannot afford to serve and we have had to move out of our house. We’re sofa surfing, me at my parents’ house with our son, my husband with a friend. So, our family has been separated and I have to make arrangements to see my husband because we no longer live together.
Get a council house people say. Like it’s that easy. The Housing Associations won’t consider us because of our debt, and getting the Local Authority to call us back is a miracle in and of itself. They don’t move quickly despite them being provided with all the information they could require because, I suspect, there is simply not a housing solution available for us in our area. So, they would rather fob us off. And we, frankly, don’t have the money for a private rented property which are also in short supply thanks to the previous government making letting being financially unviable, and this government likely making it even less appealing. So, there is little on the market.
I had a heart attack in June, and as a result I am not able yet to return to my old cleaning job and I have not yet received any sickness benefits. Making finances perilous currently and my ability to service my debt just not there. I have explained this to my creditors but they still want me to pay – with what, I am not sure.
It is also the case that if you are a woman over 50, your options are significantly limited in the employment world. All the jobs I used to apply for went to under 50 year old people, mostly men. In the UK, the number of 50+ people claiming unemployment benefit is at an all-time high with women being almost 10% more likely to be claiming. The jobs I used to do rarely come up anymore because they aren’t a legal requirement in a Local Authority and many of them are stripping those roles out when they become available for the simple reason they cannot afford them. Also until the new Local Authority structures are in place, no one knows how much money they will have, what the structures will look like, and which jobs need to go where. I have also been out of that field for over two years now, so the likelihood of my being considered is much reduced.
This is the reality of my situation. It may sound like a litany of self-indulgent self-pity, but it is the harsh truth of my life. I feel like an abject failure and my family is constantly on my back wanting me to come up with solutions – while offering nothing in the way of a solution or even a suggestion of one. The responsibility to ‘sort’ this is falling squarely on my shoulders.
I cannot stay with my parent’s for long. In fact, the only reason I am here is because my step-father is unfortunately in hospital. As soon as he is released from there, I will have to leave here. For two reasons. One, there isn’t enough space really, and two we cannot live together. We get along in small doses, not over a prolonged period of time. My son, fortunately, is secure in staying here so I am comforted that he is safe and warm. But, he wants to be with me. I want to be with him too, but I want him safe and warm first and foremost. There is also insufficient room for me to stay where my husband is currently and insufficient money for me to go anywhere else in the near future. So, I am unsure what my next move is going to be. Not on the streets, but perhaps in the car for the foreseeable future.
You do find out who your friends are in these circumstances. Friends who have always fervently stated ‘if you need any help, you know where I am’ have refused to house our dog for a couple of days. Others who have said the same thing have then tried to pay significantly less than its worth for something they have always wanted to buy from us – because they know we are desperate enough to take what they have offered. This is a multi-millionaire family ‘friend’ whose house is empty most of the year currently. I’m not asking for money, just some form of in-kind support for a little while minus the judgement and criticism.
I feel tremendously lonely right now because I no longer feel I have anyone I can talk to who isn’t either going to judge me, offer platitudes but nothing else, or expect me to come up with some kind of solution that I don’t have at the moment. I am fresh out of inspiration right now.
That is why I have decided to write this blog. I don’t know if anyone will read it, that almost isn’t the point. It’s more about having this safe space where I can release how I am feeling and maybe eventually write my way to an idea of what to do next. I am open to suggestions as well if anyone does read this! But I just need to get it all out somewhere.
This is the burning phase of being the phoenix. The part that is being in the fire, being reduced to ash. The part where the caterpillar turns into the sludge. In other words, the even more painful part than what has gone before. I am going to get myself through this somehow with even more strength and resilience than before, a lot less faith in people if I’m honest, but I will emerge. I don’t know if I will be the phoenix or the butterfly, but I will soar. I do know that much.
I will soar.
Louisa Simpson 