It was a perfect storm. I had been living in a shared rented house in east London when my landlady told us she wanted the place back. Around the same time, my work as a freelance graphic designer totally dried up. Instead of being able to put my deposit money down on a new place, I had to use it to live. It ended up disappearing really quickly on accommodation and food. I was trying to find work, but nothing was forthcoming.
In June 2015, I found myself homeless. My first night sleeping rough was in a graveyard. I had tried to get into the church, but the door was locked. I lay down among the graves. You don’t really sleep, you just lie there and hope no one notices you. That night, I felt like my heart broke for myself. I couldn’t believe it.
Your view on the world changes. When you are poor, everything is taken from you. The worst thing is the loss of peace of mind. There are always people walking around you; there is always some threat. You have no internal place you can go to replenish your spirits. Your peace is stolen. It is a constant fight to survive.
Occasionally, friends would lend me cash for food, or let me crash on their sofas or housesit for them if they were going away. Just being able to wash and have a warm bed for a night helped massively. The rest of the time, I did my best not to look homeless. I walked around with a bag and tried to look tidy. Often, I would subsist on an apple or a bag of crisps a day. I don’t know how I did it. You get so weak.
I was homeless for a year. Eventually, I got off the streets through some good luck and the support of my family. My parents don’t have much money, but they realised how bad things were and gave me £300. I felt awful, because I knew how difficult it was for them to get that together. At the same time, a friend rented me his spare room for £80 a week – I stayed there for three weeks, spending the remaining £20 a week on food – and an opportunity came up for some freelance graphic design work. I worked on the pitch night and day for three weeks and secured the project. That turned things around for me. If those things hadn’t happened at the same time, I could have been homeless for years.
I feel hugely damaged by the experience of being homeless. I am in therapy for it. Every time I hear a siren, it sets me off. I had only a year of it. Some people last much longer on the streets. Truly, I don’t know how they do it.
I am still freelancing, and there have been a few dry spells when things have been touch-and-go. You dread everything falling apart again. When I was homeless, I dreamed of living in a place by myself. I am so grateful to have a safe space of my own. I can’t believe it.
If you are worried about becoming homeless, contact the housing department of your local authority to fill in a homeless application. You can use the gov.uk website to find your local council
For more stories of life after homelessness, read Guardian Cities’ the empty doorway series
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