‘I got made homeless. I lost my house, my job, my family, my friends, my wife.’
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Wayne tells us his story:
“I was born in Derbyshire, Chesterfield. My dad had a chip shop. We moved about a lot, so I always had itchy feet.
I joined the army at the age of 15 and 9 months. I was in the parachute regiment, so I jumped out of planes. I loved my time there. I made a lot of friends and buried a lot of friends through different conflicts.
I came out of the army and became a single parent for 12 years with me and my daughter. Then I met my wife in Spain. My sister won the lottery believe it or not, and I went to stay with her as she lived in Spain, and I met my wife whilst living there. Just fell in love. We’ve been together for 20 odd years. She’s stuck through me, thick and thin.
I worked for the NHS when I came out of the army, and I was working for the N&N in Norfolk doing dementia care. My job title was After Death Champion.
I loved my life.
But my dad got put on palliative care and I couldn’t cope with it, so I hit the bottle. I got off it for 2 years, but then he got worse with his cancer.
I moved my dad down here (Norwich). I’ve got my grandchildren and my daughters down here too.
After working on the dementia ward and having to see my closest family going through it, it sent me a bit skewwhiff, and I hit the bottle quite badly. Then dad got even worse, and I was like an ostrich, I put my head in the sand. I got into a lot of trouble with the police, and my wife had just had enough. I got arrested quite a few times. I had PTSD so I didn’t know what I was doing. I blanked out and thought I was back in Northern Ireland; I can’t fully remember.
I’ve had 5 heart attacks now.
I got made homeless. I lost my house, my job, my family, my friends, my wife. I was on the streets and was then put on probation. They put me in one place, but I then had a heart attack, and they weren’t able to meet my medical needs. It was the summer, so I just lived on the streets in a tent. Then it got cold, and I had another heart attack. I got put in a coma, and when I came out of the coma I didn’t know where I was. I got support through the Matthew Project, and I’ve now ended up at Bishopbridge House.
I’m on probation now, which is going well, I’m engaging well. I’m also on an alcohol course which is going well.
I’ve got my own bathroom, I’ve got a shared kitchen, I’ve got a microwave, I’ve got my own TV which my brother bought me. He is my next of kin now. He’s my best friend. He comes down and sees me when he can.
I feel secure here, and feeling secure is a massive thing. I don’t feel like someone’s going to come and slash my tent like they did on the street.
I’ve tried to commit suicide 8 or 9 times, so my daughters don’t want to talk to me. They don’t want their families to be brought up in that environment where I am like I was. Not like I am now, as the support I have now is immense.
My wife helped to bring up my daughter, and I brought up her two daughters. I’ve got 5 grandchildren who I love and adore. I couldn’t even walk my daughter down the aisle because of what I’d done in my past.
I went into my wife’s work, shouting and all that, so they put a restraining order on me and sent me to prison for 10 days, just to cover where my daughter was getting married because they knew I would go there, because I couldn’t be in the same place as my wife.
My mental state wasn’t there. I was suicidal. I was alcohol dependent, which I still am now, but I’ve also just been accepted on a panel for detox, which I am really looking forward to.
St Martins and all they’ve done for me is astonishing. Because I’m ex-army, I help by doing a bit of cleaning to keep me occupied. I do a bit of cooking, as I love cooking. My dad was head chef on the Cambra. On New Years Day I did bacon sandwiches, 78 of them, so they had 2 each, and I did cottage pies for everyone. In my little cluster, I clean it. There’s 3 other people who live there so I cook dinner for them, and we just look after each other.
I think it’s (St Martins) been great for me. It made me realise the person that I was, and the person I want to be. I can’t wait to get back into detox. I just want to be the person
I am. I want to go back to work. I want to be a grandad. I want to be me.
The managers here are fantastic. My support worker is exceptional. She goes above and beyond. The domestic goddess, she’s amazing. The staff, they can’t do enough for you, and if you need to talk, it doesn’t matter what hour or day, you can just have a little chat with them and just say how you feel.
I know for a fact, because I’ve been sectioned twice, I know for a fact that without the support that I’m getting now, I wouldn’t be here now. I know that. I’m not pulling any wool over anyone’s eyes. I know that without that support I couldn’t have been responsible for what I could’ve been like.
I’m going to sort it out. I’ve got one million percent behind me, on the back of my shoulders. My support worker always says she’s never known anyone to come so far as I’ve come and I need to tap myself on the back, which I do. Don’t get me wrong I still think about the past and everything like that, but I know that stop thinking about negative things and think positive because negatives in the past, positives in the future.
I just want to thank the staff and everyone for what they’ve done for me and what they do for me. Without their support, even though people need their support and everything like that, they should embrace it because it’s there. It doesn’t make you a weak person to ask for help.”
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