"It's been 40 years since I slept rough, the cold still haunts me."

I worked as a travel money manager at a bank, and was furloughed during covid. I couldn’t sit and get paid to do nothing, so I decided to volunteer with St Mungo’s. I then joined the charity Thames Reach as an outreach worker. Now, I work with St Mungo’s clients, specifically women with historic or current domestic violence.

I’ve got lived experience of domestic violence and homelessness. I left home at 15 and I was on the streets for 18 months, in Scotland. I went to the local council for help, and they said, “We can’t do anything until you’re 18”. I went to the Salvation Army, they said, “You’re too young for us to house you”.

I remember to this day how painful the cold was. It still haunts me now. You survive the night by walking about. I’d find a stairwell or somewhere and that’s where I’d kip during the day, because you’re safer than you are at night. But on the street, you do not sleep: you doze.

The first time I was assaulted, I had two children; a baby and a 14-month-old.

I went to the Labour Exchange (which is what we used to call the Jobcentre) and explained that I had no ID, because not only did he control everything and keep my paperwork from me, I’d literally had to grab a few things and flee.

They said, “That’s not our problem, you’ll have to go back and get it”. It’s a lot better now – there were no women’s refuges then. I feel really proud now that I can help women who are in the position I was.

"The way I came off the streets was to go into an abusive relationship. You go from the frying pan to the fire sometimes. It was a couple of years before I got away."

Winter is really difficult when it comes to your health; 99% of the time it’s breathing issues. There’s a lot of TB (tuberculosis) and COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) associated with cold weather. In the winter, they become exacerbated, which makes life on the streets so much harder.

I always chat with people I meet on the streets. They always have a story to tell. Often they show me where trafficked women are dropped off, and I can put them in touch with the modern slavery team and the Roma team in St Mungo’s.

I think in some ways, female clients are harder to work with. They feel a sense of failure for being here. They don’t understand what they’ve done wrong, and especially in domestic violence situations I have to explain, “It’s not you”.

"The resilience of women and men on the streets astounds me. The fact that they survive that situation, the strength of character that they have to get up every day."

A bugbear of mine is people thinking only women can suffer domestic violence. I had a male client who was suffering domestic violence, went to the local authority for help, and on the phone – on loudspeaker in front of me – the council officer (who was female!) said, “But you’re a man, how can you be suffering domestic violence?” My jaw dropped. I said, “I’m going to call back in five minutes; I’d like to speak to your manager.”

I took the client out, got him a cup of tea and said, “Please don’t ever feel that we will treat you like that.” When I got the manager on the phone, I quoted legislation and explained that their staff member was uneducated, and got an apology. This is why education is so important.

A client who sticks in my mind is one who suffered domestic violence and was a substance user; she’s now in her second year of college, studying nail tech. Another suffered honour-based violence in a domestic setting and has an eating disorder; she’s now attending a group for it, and she’s got a part time job in a restaurant.

A lot of clients feel they’ve made all these failures, so the next time they try something they’re going to fail. I say you can pick yourself up, I’ll give you a kick in the backside – metaphorically! – but don’t ever think you’re not worthy of doing something. Even if you’ve failed, the fact that you’ve tried: that’s the success.

It makes me smile when I see successes. Even something as simple as, six or so months ago they might have been timid or quiet, or reactive and behind a wall, then you later see them relaxed and having a conversation, having that confidence that they are on that journey, moving forward and growing. I don’t think people realise when they give money to St Mungo’s, they are helping to build self-esteem in that way.

I say to the girls, find your voice. Don’t ever think something you say is stupid because if it’s relevant to you it’s not. Everyone should be able to chase their dreams.

"It's been 40 years since I slept rough, the cold still haunts me."

"It's been 40 years since I slept rough, the cold still haunts me."

Other articles from this issue

What it’s like to be an Outreach worker

3 things the Government can do to end rough sleeping

Support that can turn lives around

25 years of helping St Mungo’s clients

Last night on the streets: introducing our winter campaign

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