Homelessness: A Mothers Story

When my son was born and placed in my arms for the first time, so many emotions passed through my mind.

So many hopes and dreams of what could be – barely a thought was given to the emotional turmoil that was waiting in the wings!

The years passed by and I saw my son grow from a chubby, cuddly, carefree toddler into a child full of life and laughter.

I watched him change over the years, unfolding before my eyes and delighted at the sunshine and love that he brought into my life.

Little did I know of the demons and devils ready to strike and snatch my child from my safe and loving care.

I watched my son over the years and felt I had given him the best I could offer. I thought I had provided him with a safe and supportive home, values to live by and a sense of purpose.

How was I to know that hate, hurt and humiliation were just around the corner?

My son slid down that path of self-destruction, one that tore our family apart, destroyed those hopes and dreams and nearly emotionally crippled me.

‘It’ slowly washed away a vibrant, popular young man into one who cared little about life itself; only where the next hit was coming from. ‘It’ made him lose all sense of reality, as his mental health suffered and he was unable to cope with everyday living.

For a mother to see her son deteriorate, destroys her own sense of self-worth.

For a mother unable to offer any kind of support that helps, makes her feel useless.

For a mother to have no more answers, energy or solutions to an ever increasing problem, breaks her heart.

For a mother to reach the answer that the only help she can give her son is to withdraw, destroys her very soul.

Knowing that to let go is her son’s only hope of recovery, kills a part of her.

I was that mother!

To then see your son become no more that a filthy, ragged being, begging on the streets starts to destroy all hope and belief in humanity. To dream night after night of violence, destruction and death tires you to the very core.

To jump and start when the phone rings expecting the worst and to see every bin liner thrown out onto the street as a living being starts to destroy part of your rational thinking.

To hear your son’s laughter as a child echoing in your ears brings so much sadness that no one can comprehend, and makes everyday life a lonely and sad place.

So when you next pass a homeless person by, please remember that might be my son and could one day be yours.

My son died on the 22 January 2010 at the age of 28, not when he was living on the streets but whilst he was in the care of the Mental Health Services.

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