Very long and, well, boring... Homelessness

I was asked to write my story down by the support worker who helped us when we were officially homeless. It got published in a few things at the time, and ended up in newsletters in local libraries.

Bourne was asking about our stories, and I was reading in one of the threads about the state of social housing - and it's a reason that politics does appeal to me!

Maybe one night I'll write about the marriage. It's just so weird... people will know it was me then too. :roll:

Happy to delete it if it's irrelevant...

My children are now 17, 15, 13 and 10.

Cup of tea time (or glass of wine!)

October 2005

I am in my 40s and am a lone parent to four children. The eldest is 13 and the youngest is 6 years old. I have a 9-year-old boy who has special needs – he has Autistic tendencies.

I’d never thought much about homelessness before. I use to be shocked and sometimes upset when the topic would be on the news, or when I went to a city and would see young people begging, or sitting in a doorway. Think of homeless and I would think of a drunk, sleeping on a park bench. Then I would carry on with whatever I was doing, not giving it a second thought.

It was something I didn’t need to worry about. It would never happen to me…

Just over two years ago, although by then I had started divorce proceedings, I lived in the family home. We’d lived there for over 19 years having extended it so we had a large four-bedroom bungalow with quarter an acre of land with fantastic views of Snowdonia. Outside was parked my pride and joy – a Chrysler Grand Voyager. The ideal car for my children.

I worked 6 nights and Sunday afternoon in Tesco as well as a day and a half admin with a plumbing firm. Other than a short break after having my second child, I had always worked. In the past I had worked as a Civil Servant and as an Accounts Clerk in a Power Station – I had good jobs.

I knew we had a big mortgage on our house. The first shock came one morning in a Mediation session. All the debts were put forward on the table. Paperwork I had never seen before – kept safely in his place of work. There was no choice and the family home had to be sold to pay these off. My car had to go too.

By then I had given up work. Lots of things were going on and were affecting my children, and I had found a place for us to live. I rented a house by the seaside, thinking that I would have some capital behind me to give us a new start. It was a lovely house and I was told it was a long-term let; we could stay there for years if we wanted!

I ended up claiming income support, being interviewed by people I had once worked with. I found it all very humiliating, even though everyone was very kind. I was awarded housing benefit too – again, treated with such kindness. There was a shortfall with the housing benefit, but we managed and we got on with recovering from the trauma of losing everything.

In May this year the Landlord asked to see me. He told me that due to other projects, he had decided to sell our home. I was so upset, as were the children. I won’t forget the day the ‘for sale’ board went up.

I understood his reasons for selling, and, at the end of the day it was his house, and why shouldn’t he sell it?

I really didn’t foresee any problems in finding another place for us to live. I had been on the Council housing list for over 2 years and had had a visit from a Council official, so knew I hadn’t been forgotten! I thought in all that time I had been creeping up closer to the top of that waiting list.

How wrong I was.

I found another private let back in my hometown. Everything had been agreed, including a date for us to move in. I was very shocked when the Estate Agent phoned to say the Landlord had let the property to someone else through another agency. Gazumped in the letting market! This had wasted 6 weeks of my time in trying to find somewhere for us to live.

After that I came up against brick wall after brick wall. Because I was in receipt of benefits, or because I had children or because I had pets… I even found homes for our two dogs if it meant us finding a house. It was so disheartening.

I have lost my parents, and my brother and sister live away. Even though I have wonderful friends, I felt so alone…

My friend’s husband kindly offered to become my Advocate, as I’m not a very strong person when it comes to sorting myself out. He arranged a meeting with the Homelessness Officer at the Council. I must have cried all through that meeting with the disbelief that I was being made homeless. This was hammered home by receiving a letter to confirm that I was officially homeless.

The feeling of hopelessness and helplessness was overwhelming. I had no control over my life. What was to become of my children? The stress for them has been quite tremendous too! My 9-year-old having special needs meant we had more points. It also meant that we couldn’t be considered for bed and breakfast.

My saving grace was the Homeless Officer at the Council giving my name to Tai Hafan for support. My support worker (poor woman…) has been, and is, wonderful, and so patient – I am a very emotional person! She has kept me going, always following up any action she said she would take and informing me of the outcome. She has been supportive too in decisions I have made.

Tai Hafan offered me temporary accommodation of a house in my hometown. That was such a relief! I’d already started packing in May; this meant it was time to pack up our every day things.

The same week a housing association offered me a house, again in my hometown. Having had a chat with my support worker, I accepted this house, as it was permanent housing.

We left our wonderful home at the beginning of September, having been told it would be a couple of weeks at the most before I could move into our new home. I couldn’t face upsetting the Landlord any longer and certainly couldn’t face eviction. I was so depressed by this time. Six weeks later, I’m still waiting for the key. I’m lucky in that I’ve been able to rent a holiday house to keep the children together. The first two weeks saw the two older children with their grandparents and me with my younger children staying with a friend. It was so, so hard being apart. I will never forget the look of bewilderment in my 9-year old’s eyes, as he was tucked up on an air bed.

I have to add, although I am so grateful in the fact that I’ve been allocated a house – and we are so looking forward to moving in – even though the association know my circumstances and have been very sympathetic, nothing has been treated with any urgency, which is so sad. I was told the work would realistically take 2 weeks to complete; so far it’s been 4… That was after them having to wait 2 weeks longer to have the key returned than they expected.

It will be so lovely when we move in. We really are so relieved and so excited.

Next week, hopefully… Maybe….

A house that no one can make me sell, and no one can sell from under me.

The home we have just left has now become a holiday house. The whole street is now empty two thirds of the time, as they are virtually all holiday homes. Houses are being built in that village – including wooden chalets – that are costing between £250,000 and £495,000. They have all been sold. Not to locals of course! Yet more holiday homes…

What hope is there for us who are declared homeless? We are as worthy as the next person, deserving a chance to start again, building a new life – a new, secure and settled life, in homes with affordable rents.

What hope is there if the council don’t give planning permission to housing associations – who have the money – to build social housing, yet allow these expensive developments? Don’t the planning department realise that families, lone-
Lone parent’s and their children are in bed and breakfast? Just wanting a break, the chance to get out of that hole and stop feeling so helpless. If only the departments within the council would liase with each other. The homelessness department must have the most difficult job going, seeing so many desperate families every day.

I have made a point of telling my friends and acquaintances that I am homeless. It shocks them. People’s perception of homeless is the same as mine – or the same as mine was. They need to know – as I have found out – that it can, and does, happen to anyone. I thought I would have lived at the family home forever. I thought my life was secure.

I never thought that ‘someone like me’ would become homeless. I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought I would be living this nightmare.

But it did. No one knows what the future holds and it could happen to you…

June 2006

We finally moved into our new home on 24th October 2005. The housing association wanted it to be another two weeks later, but thankfully a good friend phoned them up and we had the keys. I was desperate at that point, as the holiday house I had been renting had been let for half-term. I could have moved back in after.

The whole thing still affects me, I’m ashamed to say. There are still boxes to be unpacked (mainly trying to find space!) things to be sorted, but a lot has been done, and I am getting there.

It’s so lovely here. My children love it. My 3 boys share the master bedroom and if the bedroom is tidy it’s not too bad. A bit different to what they had before – they even had a play room! The garden is tiny, but I can see right across to the mountains. The same view I had before!

It’s safe. The thing that’s best about it all, is that we can stay here forever if we want.

I have the most wonderful neighbours who have been very encouraging, calming me down when I think the children have disturbed them.

I have plans for a future – I want to train to be a driving instructor. I had hoped to do it this year, and if I’m honest, there is still time. Having no back-up with childcare will be a major issue.

I’m still on income support – which I hate. There really is no choice at the moment though. I paid into the system between 1981 and 2003, so try not to feel too guilty! Also my mum and dad died quite young, so maybe I’m getting a bit of their pension – again a way of feeling less guilty.

I’m immensely proud of my children. They have been through some difficult things in the new life their dad has chosen, and those issues have been mixed in with their plight of being homeless. Their teachers tell me the younger two are so much happier. It’s lovely to see all of them smile, but it would seem my now 10 year-old smiles the brightest, who, when we moved in asked if we could stay here forever… Should a child so young be asking that type of question?

Reading through this takes me back to that black place I was in back in the Autumn. It makes me cry reading it. I feel I’ve been through a lot in my life – nothing compared to what so many go through, I know – but being homeless has been the lowest point, so far.

I find I’m still waiting for the next wave to come and knock me down.

August 2009

I don’t feel I’ve moved on much further… There have been a few waves since then, some quite devastating.
The children are happy though. That’s the bit that gets me through.