Our Stories

When I first walked through the doors at Seaview, I could not have told you what day it was. I had been sleeping rough for the best part of a year, and by then the days had stopped meaning much. Someone offered me a cup of tea and a seat by the radiator. That was it. No forms to fill in first, no questions I was not ready to answer. Just a warm drink and a bit of quiet.

It sounds small, but that cup of tea was the first time in months anyone had treated me like a person rather than a problem to be moved along.

I kept coming back. Slowly, the staff got to know me, and I got to know them. They helped me sort out the things that had felt impossible on my own: an ID, a doctor, a phone number I could actually be reached on. None of it happened overnight. There were weeks I did not show up, and weeks I nearly gave up. Nobody made me feel ashamed of that. They just kept the door open.

A year on, I have a room of my own. It is not much to look at, but it is mine, and I sleep knowing where I will be tomorrow. I still visit the centre most weeks, only now I am often the one putting the kettle on for someone new.

If you are reading this and things feel hopeless, I understand. I have been there. What I would say is this: you do not have to have it all figured out to ask for help. You just have to walk through the door. Someone will be there with a cup of tea.