Jack’s story

After sleeping in a tiny car, completely isolated and at rock bottom, Jack spent 18 months with Threshold. He has completely changed both his mindset and his lifestyle.

How I became homeless

Home life had always been very chaotic. My dad and mum had been drinking and using drugs since they were younger. My dad got clean for some of my single digit years, but when I was a teenager things quickly returned to how they once were.

There was a lack of respect, both ways. We would clash, and as a result it was very hard to find peace living at home. I could only work part time because of the chaos - I had to quit my full-time job because I wasn't getting any sleep. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and I could barely breath.

I was done putting up with it. So, in 2023 I left home. After a final argument, my parents told me to go. I had just turned 22.

I packed my stuff into my tiny little 1.2 Volkswagen Polo and left.

My ex-girlfriend was very supportive, she stuck with me. I was sofa-surfing at her home, but she had a big family so there was no room for me.

I had nowhere to go, no money. My mental health was so poor, I isolated myself and spent nights sleeping in my car at Moulden Hill in North Swindon. I didn't really get pestered, but it was a bit funny the looks I got from people going for their morning walk.

The stigma

Growing up there was a lot of stigma around homeless people and I felt the same way, because that’s what I was taught. You hear other people say, ‘They don't want to help themselves’, or ‘They should get a job’.

People think that others can do anything they can do, but most people who think that way have grown up in a warm house, with food on the table, a comfy bed to sleep in and parents who have tried to give them the best chance at life. If you grew up in a healthy home full of respect, love and encouragement, you’re taught subconsciously that you can get through every obstacle. You're good enough to face up to any challenge, it's just another hurdle you can get past.

The sad trust is most people don't have that nowadays. The problem is a lack of self-belief and self-respect, leading to a life of self-destruction. When someone is in that headspace, they don't have the capacity to think about what’s best for themselves, let alone others.

It's a terrible repeating cycle. Because you're feeling horrible, you're down and out and it’s easier to make the wrong decisions. It gets worse as you get older, because as more negative things inevitably happen to you, that reinforces belief that you’re not strong enough. You never have been.

Your goals seem unreachable. You think, 'What’s the point in trying?'.

Coming to Threshold

With help, I tried to contact the council straight away, but they didn't get back to me for a week, then we went back and forth and they dropped the ball. My ex-girlfriend’s mum knew a charity called Threshold. She said I might have better luck getting in touch with them than waiting for the council.

I phoned Threshold. That same night they sorted me a room to stay at Booth House. And literally the day after that, I was in Threshold’s office getting keys for a room at a new place. I was so very lucky.

It was a new house. I had a lovely room; the house had a nice kitchen. It was lovely. I felt safe and secure which is what I very much needed after all the madness in my life. I thought, ‘I’ve got to work with what I’ve got, focus on the positives and figure out what I can do. I've got finally a roof over my head and a quiet place to rest.’

Because of all the stigma around charities and halfway housing, it was scary at first. But the people at Threshold were so down to earth. I feel like it was the perfect place for me because not only did they give me housing, they supported me and listened to my struggles. They helped me sort out my personal independence payments because I was struggling extremely with my mental health. They helped me out with finding work. There’s so much I didn't know that I found out and learned through the people at Threshold.

Anger and depression

I was still very doubtful of myself and often thought ‘Oh, maybe I should go back home. Maybe I can't do this.’

If I had looked healthily at my situation, I’d have said, ‘Right, I've got a fresh start here. Let's try and put some things together here, try to make a path forward and get my life sorted.’

But at the time I didn’t have the capacity to think like this. I couldn’t see any further than what was in front of me, my self-esteem was non-existent. There was no point in even thinking about how to sort my life out because I thought it was impossible. A lot of us have this mental block. Pure hopelessness.

You truly feel like you don't deserve the help. You couldn't do anything with it if you did, you’d probably make a mistake and ruin it all.

I was very, very angry at my parents. I thought they were the whole reason for this. I've always struggled with anxiety; I was also very depressed. I truly thought, ‘Life is awful and nothing I do is going to change that. I’ve tried so many times’.

I had a lot of anger and resentment inside me because of the cards I had been dealt. That made it easy to point the finger and make excuses for why my life was in a downward spiral.

It's easy to think like this and it does absolutely nothing to improve anything. I refused to have a deeper look inside myself because I was far too scared. It’s harder to not blame anyone and accept the way things are - someone or something must be to blame and that’s why I can’t improve my life. I was wallowing in self-pity for a long time.

Rock bottom

On New Year's Eve I had a complete mental breakdown, I drove to a bridge above the M4 and parked up.

I was crying in my car for about three hours, I was suicidal and completely manic. I eventually got out of my car, walked up to the bridge, got up on the ledge and I was going to jump. I think that was my lowest point. I was just so hopeless because I'd lost everything.

I had completely isolated myself, I’d lost friends, family, and a lot of important people to me.

On top of this, I had been abusing drugs to deal with the pain. Of course, it only made it worse.

But then I couldn't do it. I tried to, I literally couldn't do it. So I got off the ledge and called 999 because I didn't know what I was supposed to do. The police called an ambulance, and they talked to me and brought me back to reality. They said, ‘You’re still young. You’ve got a big future ahead of you. Where you're at now is where you're not always going to be if you want to change, if you want to get help.’

I desperately needed to hear this.

I don't think everyone has to get to a point that bad where they're literally about to end everything, but for me, rock bottom led to acceptance.

A switch of mindset

I had hit rock bottom. My suicide attempt could have caused a serious accident. I could have hurt someone else. Looking back, I think ‘Oh my God, what was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid and selfish?’

The only thing that moved me past that point in life was a total switch of mindset. That came from accepting that things were bad, but they could be fixed, not by anyone else - but by me. I accepted that I had tried to tap out early, but I couldn’t. So, what do I do now? Lie down and feel like this for another 50/60 years? Or do I step up and try my hardest to get the life I want?

I started getting the ball rolling, slowly. I spent a couple of months planning things. It wasn’t every day… I’d wake up some days and feel good and plan some things, find a couple of jobs here and there for some cash. Then of course I’d go a few days doing nothing and bed-rotting. It was a very slow process to start. The good thing I learned was that the changes didn’t have to happen overnight.

Threshold didn’t judge

Threshold were there when I was at my lowest and helped me take those first steps when I didn’t know how I was going to face everything and all the hurdles in the way. I could have thought, ‘What’s the point in even trying’, but they helped me do things gradually at my own pace.

You're so used to people judging you and looking down at you. When people have been knocked down there's so much hatred inside for themselves and the world.

All you truly need is some good people who will give you a chance.

The Threshold workers let you move forward at your own pace. What I liked as well is they were very hands on but hands off at the same time, if that makes sense.

They know that people who go into supported housing are not in a good position to start with, whether it's struggling with addiction or financially, or they've got a vice, whether it be drinking, drugs, gambling or anything. Regardless, if you're there you're struggling, clearly. And I feel like when you come into that, they do not judge you.

They ask about what you're struggling with and at first you think, ‘Oh, God, who are they going to tell? They're going to judge me’.

It's always been used against you, like you're not allowed to struggle. But they ask you what you're struggling with so then they can get you that support. They never judge. They offer you help, and more importantly, they actually get you help - if you’re willing.

Moving forward

I felt really rubbish for a couple of months after New Years Eve, but I kept moving forward. Slowly I was building myself up, getting outside more, doing more things. That was important. Walks don't cost money, just going out and seeing the world can really do wonders for you.

April rolled around and I bumped into one of my best mates who I hadn’t spoken to in a while. He's a proper hard worker. His ambition and the determination sparked a bit of a fire in me again. He kindly offered me some work. So I did a delivery job, it paid well and I stuck it in savings. I knew once you started making money, it affects your renting responsibilities and housing benefit. I thought ‘If I do this, I'm going to have to take a leap of faith here and go all in - there's no going back. I'm going to have to leave this place and stand on my own two feet.'

'I'm going to do it.’

I went full steam ahead with the plan I had made. I started looking at flats to visualise where I wanted to be and chase it, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. I saw a flat that I really liked to rent for £875 a month. I thought ‘I’m on half of that a month. There's no way I’ll be able to afford my own place.’

I said to that same friend who gave me work that I had found a place and had saved enough money for the deposit, but as I was a young, first-time renter I had to pay three months’ rent up front. I was so close to moving in, but I had that hit that hurdle of needing about £2,500 up front. I was very lucky when my friend, who had very limited savings, believed in me and lent me the money, if I promised to find a full-time job and pay him back right away.

And he did that for me. He believed in me. By June, I had moved into that very flat, with a new job starting at the end of the month. I paid him back and was finally working again and earning a decent living.

I did it.

A place of my own

When I moved in, I needed to get a job quick. I hadn't worked for about a year or two, it was a full-time position, the job was very stressful. I'd never worked a proper job, I'd only ever done a four-hour shift. I was an open book with the manager. By chance, he had happened to be in the exact same position as me when he was my age. I told him I was struggling, but I really need this job, I really need this opportunity. He gave me the chance, and I've been there for just over a year now.

It's been very rocky. There's been times where I can't come to work because I still struggle with mental health. My anxiety is so bad. But they've been very lenient, they could have thrown me away.

I've now got my own place, I've got a full-time job. I've always dreamed of having my own pets, to make my own family. I've got two lovely little boy cats who are brothers. They're my little sons, they’re amazing. I've got enough money to buy stuff and enjoy the things I like. I've got a TV for the first time. I've got a lovely bed, I've got a roof over my head. And all of that happened just because I started believing in myself.

All the hardship I faced was my downfall, but it was also what built me up into the man I am today. I can feel like I can do anything. It's normal to have a day where you think, ‘What am I doing? I've got to do what? Oh my God, the pressure, man’.

And then you think ‘Wait, I’ve dealt with that. I can do it. I have the evidence, I know how strong I am.’

Mum and Dad

Growing up my dad used to say, ‘Just don’t be like me.’

I got to a point where I wanted to stop using drugs and I did it finally, last October. I was very angry at my parents and blamed them for my drug use for a long time. But they were suffering, I was suffering. It was very childish to blame them. I learned that being angry and pointing the finger would do no good whatsoever. In the end, I could see the other side of the coin and finally feel empathy for them and their struggles too.

I started rekindling a relationship with my parents again. I agreed to start seeing them if they came to CA meetings with me. I started going with my dad and they're still struggling, but they're on that path to recovery.

I see them at least once a week now. I go over and have a cup of tea or dinner occasionally and they’re a bit more involved with helping me out when I need it. They've got a lot better since I walked out, I think they needed that reality check as much as I did.

A beautiful life

I believe I was chosen for a place at Threshold. I was given that home, that safety, that opportunity, that support from people who believed in me and didn’t judge me. They believed in me. What I learned from Threshold was that I was worth something and deserved better for myself. People wanted to talk to me and listen, to help me. It was a chance that I didn’t want to waste. And from there, I’ve managed to get to a place where I’ve been able to healthily move on and deal with everyday life.

It's a very cruel world, being brutally honest, but it's reality. I can't keep dropping to the floor, putting my hands over my eyes and pretending it's not happening. I need to face reality. Because as cruel as life can be, it can also be beautiful if you’re willing to try to see it.