Josh’s story

After his relationship with his nan broke down, Josh survived on the streets of Swindon before finding hope and support at Threshold.

Growing up with my mum

My mum had different boyfriends. I don't remember my middle-sister’s dad. I was five when she was born and I, for the life of me, can't remember him whatsoever.

My younger sister's dad, on the other hand, was a different story. He had been arrested for numerous things. Beating his ex-wife, that sort of stuff. Attempted arson. I wasn't happy when she got pregnant by him because it meant he might stick around a bit longer. I ran out the door and he chased me, grabbed me back indoors. I ran upstairs into my room and bolted it. I managed to fall asleep and I remember being woken up by the door being kicked open and being gripped up against the wall. I think I was about nine.

When she eventually kicked him out, he tried setting our house on fire with us all in it. I had Crohn's disease, so I'd wake up in the middle of the night and get snacks. He was pouring petrol through our letterbox and I saw the bit of paper come through and I grabbed it. I couldn’t wake up my mum, who is very heavy sleeper, she's got sleep apnea. In the morning, I told her. I was about 10 at that point.

I didn't like living with my mum, but I wanted to live with my mum. I wanted my mum to be better.

A troubled childhood

I was that kid that bottled everything up, but obviously the bottle can only hold so much. I didn't like getting angry. I was the kid that when they got angry, they cried. And it wasn't because someone's hurt me, it's because I've hurt someone. The last time I got angry at school was because one of my friends got hurt. It triggered me. I snapped and I had every male PE teacher pulling me off this kid. I was year 10, 5'11 and a bit stocky.

And when they pulled me into the office I started crying. I wasn’t crying because I had a black eye. I wouldn't cry in pain. But if I hurt someone, it was a different story.

Living with my nan

I was living on-and-off at my nan’s. I was her carer for 11 years because I got kicked out of my mum’s while I was still in college.

I've always been close with my nan. At school, when you get asked if you're a mummy's boy or a daddy's boy, I’d say ‘I'm nanny's boy’.

Me and my nan are very similar. We would clash sometimes. She shouts and then I shout, but we end up apologising. It is rare for my family to apologise so if we do, it means something.

I worked in a food shop in town which ruined my mental health, they work you to nothing. After my mental health got really bad I was signed off work. I was under the mental health team for anxiety and depression.

Me and my nan had a disagreement one night and she decided to call my auntie, who said to me to leave the house. I didn't want there to be any confrontation in the house, so I just grabbed a backpack and left. I spent the night outside and a day later I got a phone call to say, ‘You’re out’.

My nan called her friend, who had a child in Threshold, and said they were going to get me in. My nan was going to have me back for a couple of weeks until I got a foot in the door. But my universal credit went up because they made a mistake. I was already paying my nan rent but she found out how much I was getting, didn't like it and kicked me out completely.

I grabbed a little bit more stuff and then I was out on the streets.

Sleeping rough

I was on the streets for a couple of months. I didn't sleep at night, I didn't feel like I could because you don't know what's going to happen to you.

I went to a hostel on occasion to get emergency accommodation. It was around the time there were going to be anti-immigration riots in town. A weekend in a hostel was better than being out on the streets.

But it was still quite uncomfortable. You get a little camp bed that doesn't fit your shoulders in and have to lay on your side, like sleeping in a sack. You have to share the room with another person and my money went missing out of my wallet because I accidentally fell asleep.

My mental health was just getting too bad and I couldn’t get any help from anyone. I thought, ‘Well, what's the point? I don't think I'm going to get anywhere, so I might as well just end it.’

But I didn't want to be another statistic. I didn’t want to be dead.

I did have friends that would check up on me. I would find somewhere to charge my phone and hang around in town anywhere that I could get free Wi-Fi and just check in with friends and tell them I’ll still here. One friend sent me a QR code to go to Gregg's for breakfast and lunch.

I would go to the library to check in with the council. They asked if I’d been approached by the street team, I told them that they hadn’t approached me once. They said I looked clean. I told them, ‘I don't want to look as dirty as I already feel.’

I could still wash my face and beard in the sink and at least feel fresher. When you get depressed, some people don’t wash. They get stuck in a cycle. When I've been really depressed, once I've had a wash, I feel better.

Nightshelter and Haven

The first time I got emergency accommodation at the Nightshelter, the manager took me to my room and gave me a towel. There was a shower right across from my room. I stood there in a pair of sliders, feeling like I was going to cry. I hadn't had a shower for a week. The manager just said, ‘It's okay, buddy. Grab a shower. I'll see you in a bit’.

And a shower was what I needed. Nightshelter’s accommodation was a lot more homely than the hostel. You got your own room, a proper bed, a little drawer thing to put your clothes in and a bench outside.

I used to go to the Pilgrim Centre every morning and have my breakfast there, and then I'd go to the Haven and have a nap on their sofa and another breakfast. They have computers there, you can do activities, they've got a pool table, you can do your washing and they give you snacks. I'd have lunch there too and leave when they shut at 2pm.

I was at Haven when I got the call to come to Threshold. I was getting a place. I don't cry in front of people, but I cried.

A place at Threshold

Not long after I’d become homeless, I went into the Threshold office, spoke to a support worker called Leo and filled in some paperwork.

It gave me a little bit of hope. I had signed a form with the council, who’d said I might get emergency accommodation and sent me on my way. I didn't care if someone who needed it more was put in front of me, I just wanted a home.

Then I got a phone call from Leo. He said that I'd wasn't forgotten about. He apologised that it had been a while since I was last spoken to, as there were people ahead of me on the waiting list.

It didn't feel too much longer until I got that phone call at Haven. ‘Come into Threshold, we've got a place for you’.

That was amazing. I was crying, but I was really happy. I came in, filled in the paperwork and was told I could move in the next day.

The house is right next to where I grew up, so there was no anxiety about where I was going to live. I knew the area. It’s a lot better than emergency accommodation, more secure.

I have my own room, my own bed, a set of drawers. The kitchen is nice, the living room is good, the back garden is very nice. I like the neighbours. Our neighbour next door donated a greenhouse. My nan had loads of plants when I grew up, so I've started growing carrots and parsnips in one of the flower beds.

I keep myself to myself. There are five males in the house and some people clash. A houseful of guys is not the best thing for me – I grew up the only male in a house of females. I talk to one of the housemates the most. He's been great, but I have had loads of good support from Threshold workers too.

I knew one of the support workers from the hostel, which was nice, but Leo is the person that comes to the house the most. He's helped a lot. Help with mental health, sexual health, going to the food bank, technology. I’m not great with phone calls, I get so anxious that I shake and stutter. But Leo helps me. You get lots of support. I've been able to message Leo whenever I've needed him, whenever I'm struggling.

Moving on

Leo helps me bid for properties on Homebid. I know that I have to move out of Threshold eventually, I don't want to share forever.

I'm signed off from work indefinitely, but I would like to go back eventually. I want to get into landscaping or do something with gardens. I learned from one of my mum’s boyfriends who was an ex-scaffolder. By the time I was 15 I could put up a fence by myself - I did my nan’s garden fences.

My partner says I should work with animals because I love animals. She notices when I start feeling down, as I snack but I keep my snack wrappers around me like a nest. My little doom pit. That's what I tend to do when I'm not feeling great.

I can now control my triggers, like being abruptly awoken. My partner's got a little boy and he tends to run in the room when you're asleep. He's got ADHD and autism, so he's very loud. I don't get up and immediately think ‘Fight!’ - which is really good.

I want to have kids someday too. I'm a lot calmer. Don’t get me wrong I get frustrated, everybody gets frustrated, but I don't get angry as much. When I do get angry, I just take myself out of the situation.

Reconciling with my nan

I don't talk to my mum. And I hate the fact that my aunt taught my nan to use Temu, because she doesn't know how to do it, so she sends me the links through WhatsApp and I'm constantly being spammed. I've said to her that she needs to stop it or I will mute her, because I can't deal with the constant ding, ding, ding.

I did resent her, because when she kicked me out, she was still sending me the Temu. But she wasn't talking to me, which upset me. She’d send me the Temu stuff, but she couldn't talk to me.

When we eventually spoke, I told her not to get upset because my family is very emotional. Our emotions get big very quickly. If we get upset, we get very upset. And I call my nan the originator of the autism in my family. She's very emotional, very sensitive.

I said, ‘Please don’t get upset. This is not me having a go at you. When you kicked me out you were still sending me all the links and the stuff that you wanted to buy, but you weren't talking to me. You weren't checking up on me. You didn't want to talk to me. I was talking to my sister, and I'd say to her, “Is Nan ready to talk?”

‘And she'd say, “No, Nan's not ready to talk.”’

And my nan listened, and said, ‘Yes, I understand now.’

Now my relationship with my nan is a lot better. I worry about her and take her shopping every so often.