From nowhere to somewhere
Let me tell you about a journey I never should have taken—but one I’ll always be grateful I did.
I grew up in a small town in County Durham, and somewhere along the way, I fell in with the wrong people. At the time, I thought they were friends. It took me far too long to realise they weren’t.
I was living alone in a flat, and the man downstairs—someone I trusted—became my supplier while I was using crack cocaine. Over time, things escalated. He began asking me to hold large quantities of drugs for him, paying me not in money, but in the substance, I had become dependent on. I told myself it was manageable, that I was in control—but I wasn’t.
Eventually, he was sent to prison for unrelated reasons. Before he went, hesuggested I give up my flat and move into his. It seemed like an opportunity at the time—an upgrade, even. But it quickly became something else entirely.
Not long after, his family started turning up at the door. They expected me to store more drugs, to deliver packages, to keep everything running in his absence. Refusing wasn’t an option. If I hesitated, if I was late, if I tried to say no, there were consequences—violence, threats, the constant reminder that I could be thrown out onto the street at any moment.
This became my reality. My mental health deteriorated, my drug use deepened, and I felt myself losing any sense of control over my life. Eventually, I reached a point where I couldn’t see a way out. I began to have suicidal thoughts, convinced that nothing would ever change.
Then one afternoon, after another assault, something shifted. For the first time, I realised that if I stayed, things wouldn’t just remain the same—they would get worse. I needed to leave. I needed to be free.
So, I took my chance.
When I found myself alone, I walked out. No plan, no belongings—just the clothes I was wearing. I got on a bus and left the area behind, not knowing where I would end up, only knowing I couldn’t stay.
I had nothing. But for the first time in a long time, I knew I had made the right decision.
And for the first time, I was ready to ask for help.
Somewhere
After spending several nights on the streets—sleeping wherever I felt even remotely safe and eating only when someone kindly offered me food—my mental health began to spiral. I was exhausted, frightened, and losing hope.
Eventually, I reached out to the homeless team at Durham County Council. They offered me a place to stay in Bishop Auckland: the Angel Trust Homeless Safe Night Hub. At that point, I had no money, no phone, and my mind was clouded by fear and paranoia. That night, I didn’t go. Instead, I stayed out on the streets once again.
But the next day, something shifted inside me. A quiet voice told me I had to take this chance.
I walked for miles to reach the Angel Trust. By the time I arrived, I was in a terrible state—physically drained and emotionally overwhelmed. When I got to the door, I met Gary.
Gary didn’t hesitate. He brought me straight into a safe, quiet room, and that’s when everything I’d been holding in finally came out. I broke down. He sat with me, listened patiently, and, for the first time in a long time, I felt heard. Truly heard.
He gave me a hot drink and something to eat—small things, but in that moment, they meant everything.
As we talked, Gary gently helped me understand that what I had experienced wasn’t my fault. That I hadn’t chosen this life in the way I’d believed. He explained that I had, in fact, been a victim.
When he first used the term “modern-day slavery,” I was taken aback. It wasn’t something I had ever associated with my own life. But the more we talked, the more it began to make sense.
Gary reassured me that our conversation was confidential, but he also explained that, because of the seriousness of what I’d been through, he would need to contact the police to ensure proper safeguarding was put in place. I had never even heard the term “safeguarding” before, but somehow, I understood that it meant protection—that someone was finally looking out for me.
For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of safety.
And deep down, I knew I had come to the right place.
The beginning
Waking up after my first night at the Angel Trust, I was still struggling deeply with my mental health. My emotions were overwhelming, and I found it incredibly hard to steady myself or make sense of how I was feeling.
Once again, Gary stepped in without hesitation. He arranged for me to see Alex, the in-house suicide and self-harm prevention counsellor, completing a referral on my behalf. Within 24 hours, I had gone from sleeping on the streets to being in a safe, stable environment, receiving support I hadn’t even realised I needed so desperately.
Alex was incredible. He listened—really listened—and helped me begin to understand what I was feeling. For the first time in a long while, things started to make sense. He gave me the space and guidance I needed to begin feeling human again… to feel safe… to feel like I mattered.
That same day, I also spoke with the police about what I had been through, with Gary by my side the entire time for support. I shared my experience but explained that, for now, I didn’t want to name anyone. I needed to focus on rebuilding my life first.
They understood. I was reassured that the choice was mine—that I could come back and make a formal report whenever I felt ready, if I ever chose to do so.
For the first time, I felt like I had some control again.
As my time at the Night Hub went on, I began to feel myself growing stronger each day. Slowly but surely, I was starting to rebuild.
The support staff were nothing short of incredible. They worked tirelessly to make sure I felt cared for, properly fed, and—most importantly—safe.
I was given fresh clothing, hygiene essentials, and warm, home-cooked meals. But it was more than that. Whenever I struggled, they were there—ready to listen, to support me, and to help me find my footing again.
This place wasn’t just somewhere to stay—it was a lifeline.
I continued my sessions with Alex, and once he felt confident that I was no longer at risk of harming myself, I was introduced to another in-house counsellor, Claire.
Claire was equally remarkable. Through our sessions, she helped me begin to understand parts of my past that I had never fully processed. With her support, I started to let go of the weight I had been carrying for so long—like walking around with a backpack full of breeze blocks, finally being able to set them down one by one.
The middle
After some time at the Night Hub, I finally reached a point where I was ready to move forward—to take the next step toward rebuilding my life.
The entire team at the Angel Trust, along with the wraparound support I had received, helped me rediscover something I had lost: a sense of self-worth. I began to feel like I was somebody again—that I had a future worth fighting for.
During my time there, I also formed a close friendship with another person being supported by the service. They had been through experiences similar to mine, and we quickly connected. That bond meant a great deal to me, especially for my mental health. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel so alone.
After all the progress I had made, a referral was put in for supported accommodation, and an assessment was arranged with another organisation. Gary, as always, was right there beside me, supporting me through the process.
By this point, I had left my drug use behind and was seeing life with a completely different perspective. So when I was told that I had been successful—that I would have a place of my own again, with continued support—I was overwhelmed with relief and happiness.
Even better, my friend had also been successful, and we would be moving on at the same time. That meant everything to me. It reinforced the feeling that I wasn’t alone anymore.
Before I left, the team at the Angel Trust made sure I had everything I needed for this new beginning. They provided food, clothing, and essential items to help me settle in. But more than that, they reminded me that their support didn’t end there—they were still there for me whenever I needed them.
For the first time, I felt ready—not just to survive, but to truly start living again.
The End
My time in supported accommodation lasted around five months, and in that time, I learned how to live again.
I began to build the life skills I had been missing for so long, and with each passing week, I felt stronger—more capable, more independent, and ready to stand on my own two feet. I made the most of every opportunity that came my way. One of those was a bricklaying course, which I quickly took to. What started as something new soon became a real passion, and before long, I was given a placement, working on-site and developing my skills in a trade I could call my own.
Throughout it all, the Angel Trust stayed in touch. Their continued support meant a lot to me, but more than anything, I felt proud—proud that I was proving to them, and to myself, that I wasn’t going to fall back into old patterns. I was moving forward.
When my time in supported accommodation came to an end, I was ready for the next step. With the right support, I secured a place of my own. This time, I felt prepared to do it independently—to truly stand on my own two feet.
After moving in, I continued with my training, and I’m proud to say it led to full-time employment. For the first time, I was paying my own bills, building a stable life, and most importantly, feeling a genuine sense of pride in how far I had come.
I had turned my life around. I was independent.
And, for the first time in a long time—if not ever—I was truly happy. A kind of happiness I never thought was possible.
None of this would have happened without the Angel Trust. They gave me the tools, the support, and the belief I needed to get here.
For that, I will be forever grateful. I can’t believe how well the staff perform and do everything they can to get you back into society and fill you will hope.
The Angel Trust has actually saved my life and helped me realise that I am someone and life is worth living.
12/03/2025 Anon