T, one of our wonderful counsellors, recently took part in St Albans Sleepout and decided to record her thoughts and feelings throughout the experience.

This is her journal from the evening.

Like all our counsellors, T has lived experience of both addiction and recovery and is highly qualified in her field. She says:

“I stepped out of the comfort of my home to join the St Albans Sleepout and sleep rough for the night with my colleague, her husband and 11-year-old son.

“I will start by saying the temperature has dropped over the last week, but for November, it’s still mild.

“My night rough sleeping was an experience - but it was just that, an experience. Like how you can purchase an experience of a safari, and you get to peek inside the window of the wild. I knew I was going home in the morning, which is a privilege that those experiencing street homelessness don’t have.”
 
T noticed a few things along the way, starting with what it was like packing her bag and being able to choose what to wear from a fully stocked wardrobe. She said, “That was a blessing I've come to take for granted. I opted not to take my toothbrush or skincare routine which is basic self-care that I find pleasure in, but wouldn’t be a priority if I was homeless.

“Around midnight, my feelings switched from sweet to tragic when I looked over at my colleague's son and noted how sweet he looked so soundly asleep. I immediately reflected that homelessness is not a fun game, and it’s not a choice because homelessness is someone’s life.” 
 
T's outfit choice consisted of four pairs of trousers, four tops, gloves, a hat, a scarf, and multiple pairs of socks which she felt was a bit much early evening, but by 2am she realised was a great choice. She explained, “I found I was depriving myself of water at 4am because I didn't want to leave my sleeping bag and lose the heat, I'd been storing up to go to the loo despite all my layers.
 
“Throughout the night, there was a lot going on and I realised quickly after lying down that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I attempted to take my friend hostage in the hope she’d stay up and talk antidotes of our past, but sadly sleep took her.  

“The evening hustle continued with surrounding conversations, birdsong, snoring, vehicles passing through, doors opening and closing. The one I found most disruptive was when over 20 floodlights beamed down causing an internal siren to go off inside me as if a raid was taking the campus. After sitting bolt upright, I soon realised I was the only person awake and alerted by this - everyone else was undisturbed.”

Using her academic knowledge of counselling, T explains the basics of Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs are food, clothing, sleep and water. She said, “But, this was my choice for one night, some people are unable to have these basic needs met daily.
 
Opening up about her own recovery journey, T starkly says, “Addiction and homelessness are close friends, both feeding into each other, and although I have a generous amount of “one day a time’s” behind me, I wasn’t immune to the thoughts and feelings creeping into my mind as the minutes slowly ticked by into hours.

“Surrounded by hundreds of people, I felt lonely; I felt fear, I felt the feeling of being unsafe, and the boredom crept in.

“I knew that although I felt unsafe, I was safe, and nobody was going to ‘kick my teeth in for my shoes’ as another participant shared when speaking of his lived experience of homelessness.

“As bored as I was, I wasn’t going to lean into my old worn-out addictions that no longer serve me, I was able to feel what I was feeling, even in the uncomfortable ones. I decided to get my journal out. It was all temporary. I think one of the beautiful things about The Living Room is how it supports clients back into 'living' in the world again.”

T says she could have done it again for a second or third night, but it would all have been an experience – like the safari experience - because she knew she had a home to go back to.

“I felt sad with thoughts of not knowing where to go next or having to keep doing the same thing again not knowing where it ends. And not knowing where my next meal would come from and having to fill my days, too. I imagine the fear, boredom, loneliness, isolation, desperation would only increase. Its unfathomable.

“The gratitude I have for my recovery, home, belongings, and my safety are unreal. I am grateful for my job and my purpose to help others on their recovery journeys. I keep a gratitude diary, and I will continue to be thankful for my life and everything I have.”