At the age of six, I was taken from my family and placed into care. I went on to be moved 29 times until the age of 15. I was fostered twice, and in and out of residential children’s homes and reform schools. Throughout all these years, my life was controlled by the children’s panel, who met every six months to make all decisions regarding my life and welfare.
I was put into the child welfare system because my father was a heavy drinker and prolific womaniser who abandoned my mother for another woman, leaving her at home aged only 21 with four children and heavily pregnant. We were first put into temporary care while our mother was in hospital having my youngest sibling, but later we were separated and placed into care. My family was ripped apart with some of us not seeing each other for almost seventeen years.
Fifteen and angry, I left Scotland for the first time and went to London, starting what became a ten-year stint homeless. I started to smoke a lot of hash, and take acid, ecstasy and later developed a taste for amphetamines. By the time I was 25, I had travelled around France, Belgium, and Holland, all rough sleeping and supported by begging, or when possible very bad busking.
It was when I was 25 that I met, and then six months later married, my wife. She is a smart and lovely woman and we stayed together for eight years and had three kids. I gave up the drugs for my wife and overall my marriage was good. But after a back injury meant I was no longer able to work, I started to drink more. I became more affected by my depression until it wasn’t really a choice that our marriage had to end. That cemented my drinking behaviour for another two years.
After my marriage breakdown I ended up back in London sleeping rough, but quickly found out that the streets had changed since I was last homeless. Not only was I older, meaning life on the streets was harder physically and it’s the kind of environment that punishes the parts that are already aching, but it was rife with more violence against rough sleepers. I quickly found a hostel to live in and from there I moved into a flat, but soon found myself needing to move and so the pattern I had become used to as a young child began again.
I ended up on the south coast and spent five years working with a homelessness charity as a volunteer. It was a day centre and at first I was on the door making sure no one brought any drink or drugs in, but after a while I started working on other projects. I helped with a gardening project, ran the music and art group, and provided general counselling and support to people. The day centre also did a lot within the local community, and we often went out and sang and played music at big open days and in old people’s homes. Most weeks I was volunteering 50-60 hours a week, sometimes more, but I still felt so isolated. I was going home to my flat to be on my own every day.
Eventually, the isolation got on top of me. Although I had a one bedroom flat in a lovely area, had something to do every day, and was never hungry, the next thing I knew I was in France with a backpack and a body that I realised was not up to the task after only a month of travelling. I tend to let life get on top of me, and I just snap and walk away. I think it’s a pattern in my head from spending my whole childhood not belonging anywhere and moving around so much; I have an extreme version of flight or fight that can be set off by anything.
I made my way back to the UK, went to Leeds and moved into a bedsit. I spent a year there, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and playing Xbox games, until one day I realised that I was getting by on the bare minimum of social interactions, and my depression was getting worse. I wasn’t speaking to anyone and wasn’t leaving the house – my world just kept getting smaller and smaller.
This is when I remembered a man I had met years before who spoke very highly of Emmaus communities. I applied online to Emmaus Norfolk & Waveney and was invited down for a week visit. I got on well with everyone, so went up back up to Leeds, sorted everything out, and came back to Emmaus as a companion.
When I started at the Norfolk community, I tried working in all the different departments, eventually regularly working in logistics, booking collections and deliveries and helping customers. This role is office based, which I found challenging but, with the support of the other companions and staff, I have grown to enjoy the work and customer interactions.
While here, I have also started working on my pastimes more, both in art and writing. The staff support this and always try to develop companions, and through the Emmaus UK Companion Training Fund I received a small laptop to write on. They also respect our experiences, and they are all brilliant support regardless if that is their job role or not. But the unofficial support team – the other companions – is invaluable. Some of us have had similar experiences which lets us bounce points off each other and makes it easier to connect. If someone were to walk down in the morning and something was wrong, the rest of us would know straight away – that’s what community living is all about.
I don’t know what the future holds for me. It will be hard to undo over 40 years of feeling like I don’t belong anywhere, but the whole purpose of Emmaus is to make you feel like part of a community and I am happy here at the moment with no plans to move.