Leaving home

Throughout this piece of work I am going to be talking about my transition from care into independent living, what it was like for me and what could have been better.

I left care just passed my 17th birthday. I was in a very settled placement and I was happy where I was staying. I had attended my last Children’s Hearing the day before I was turning 17. At this meeting I had been told that I was not going to be moving any time soon and that I would stay at my placement on a voluntary order so when I was ready to leave care I could leave when I felt I was ready. Unfortunately I had a phone call and was told from my local authority that they were no longer going to fund my placement and I had to find myself accommodation just a week after my meeting. This was a huge stress and had a massive impact on my mental health.

I wasn’t ready to leave my home where I was happy and felt safe with people whom I felt were part of my family.

When I had turned 16 most of my support networks had stopped due to my age. I was being supported from Who Cares? Scotland, Carevisions and the Leaving Care Team. I had built a strong relationship with my YPW (young person’s worker) from Who Cares? Scotland over seven years – Mary was and is still an important person in my life who I still have contact with today.

When I was told I was going to be moving out of Laraben, Mary and Laraben fought hard for me to be kept there and told them how I wasn’t ready to move. I had no independent living skills and had no idea where to start. I was confused and became very angry at everyone. At first I was told I would be moving into a hostel because there was no evidence of me maintaining my own property. Everyone agreed that this wouldn’t be in my best interest to move there.

I had been taken by my key worker at Leaving Care to see one of the hostels and I was scared. It looked horrible and that wasn’t where I could see myself living.

At that time I was very vulnerable and I was easily lead. I had been told that the hostels were shared accommodation, had drug and alcohol abusers living in them, that I would struggle to get any sleep as the people who stayed there caused trouble and would have parties leading to the police being involved.

Once I had been told that there was no going back to Laraben it was time to challenge the council and make them aware that if I was going to live in a hostel it would be setting me up to fail however my own tenancy would make me thrive in life. We had attended meeting after meeting, trying to evidence that I could manage my own tenancy and that the hostel wasn’t the place for me. I heard back from my local authority and was told I was a band A priority and I could start the bidding process on a flat. Although this was great news that I wasn’t being placed in a hostel, I wasn’t made aware of the process that if I viewed a property and didn’t want to move in, I would be placed into the homeless accommodation. One of the staff from Laraben had taken me to view a flat and I felt I had no other option but to take it and from there I had started the four week transition period into my flat.

Once I had signed for the flat, everything became very hectic. Nobody knew what the plan was or how we were going to decorate the flat. I had no money saved at Laraben as it was very last minute and I had to wait two weeks on my leaving care grant so nothing could be done until the grant had come through. Once I had received the grant it was time to get everything organised. It was having a huge effect on my mental health. I started to tell staff to get out of the flat and that I didn’t want them to come over.

I tried my hardest to breakdown the strong and important relationships I had built over my time at Laraben.

I felt it would be easier for them to hate me than to care because it would have been easier for me and for staff. They fought for me. I was constantly phoned and messaged asking if they could come over and support me because they were worried. I was crumbling on the inside. I felt everything I had been promised was all a lie and I was alone. I couldn’t open up to anyone and I started taking drugs and mixing in with the wrong crowd. Staff tried their hardest to put some sense into me because they knew it wasn’t who I was. I was a strong-minded person and I was completely against drugs after watching my dad and what kind of person they had turned him into. I had seen the drugs destroy my family and our relationships.

Staff could only support me for four weeks and when the time came for the support to stop, watching them drive away for that last time broke my heart. I knew there was no going back.

I feel like my transition could have been done differently. Everyone should have had a plan set out rather than everything being so unorganised. I felt I was rushed out of my home into a strange place that I had no clue about and had a reputation for antisocial behaviour.

In my next piece of writing I am going to be talking about what my experience of aftercare was like and where I am today.