From people who have been through it

“If you're facing eviction, get on the council list early. They take forever. Keep your phone charged. Ask for help. I swim to stay sane. Find your swim. It's scary but you can get through. I'm still here.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last year. A hostel bed. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: a temporary hotel room was my lowest point, and a year later I am ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last spring. Landlord selling. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last year. Rent went up 300 a month. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago. The council housing list. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in March. The council housing list. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago. Sofa surfing for months. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Sorry if this is a lot. To whoever needs this: I was where you are in October. Mould in the kids' bedroom. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“to whoever needs this: I was where you are in the autumn. my phone is my lifeline. today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. it comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold”

“If you are just starting out with nowhere to sleep, I will not pretend it is fine. It is not. Your phone is your lifeline. Keep it charged. Find the places that give free meals. Learn their times. Be polite, even when you are exhausted. A hostel bed is not the Ritz but it is a door you can lock. Do not give up on the clinic. The line is long but it is a line forward. Some days you will want to quit. Just get through the next hour. That is all.”

“If you're where I was, with the pasta and the payday loans and the shame, I want you to know it can get better. I'm not going to tell you it's easy. It's not. But the food bank is there and it's not charity, it's just help, and you're allowed to take it. Ask for the help. Tell one person. That's what I did and it didn't fix everything but it made it less heavy. And don't do what I did with the loans. Talk to someone first.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy and the first few months were the worst of my life and but I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Get a letter from your doctor if your health is affected, it moved us up the list. Go slowly.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are six weeks ago. A temporary hotel room. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you are just starting this, I am sorry. The first thing I want to say is that it is not your fault. The shame is heavy, but you don't have to carry it alone. Get advice early, even if it feels embarrassing. And try to hold on to the small things, like a cup of tea with a friend or a game of chess. It doesn't fix the big problem, but it helps you keep going.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are four months ago. The council housing list. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. Cheap pasta every night. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you are just starting this, the first thing I would say is do not ignore the letters. I did for two weeks and it made everything worse. Open them. Call the number. Ask for the deadline. Also take photos of the mould and send them to the council by email so there is a date. And tell one person. I told my friend at the football club and he helped me write a letter. You do not have to do it alone even if it feels like it.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy so the first few months were the worst of my life, but I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. The council were useless until I put everything in writing. Go slowly.”

“if youre where i was in september, the shame is the worst part. i promise you, half the people around you are doing the same math. find the food bank, find the market at closing time. tell one person, even if it feels huge. and eat something today, even if its small. i still count coins but i dont skip lunch every day now. thats something.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are two months ago, sofa surfing for months. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something and it comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“When you first get that notice, it feels like the floor drops. I won't lie, the forms are a nightmare and the hotel room is small. But you learn things: take photos of everything, keep every letter, and ask the council for help in writing. It's slow. Some days you just cry in the car. But you keep going because the kids need you to. And you will laugh again, even if it's just at the absurdity of it all.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are a few months back. No address for job forms. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are just before Christmas. A hostel bed. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Cuando empecé, no sabía si íbamos a salir. Pero se puede. Poco a poco. Busca ayuda. No tengas miedo de pedir. Los niños necesitan verte fuerte. Y tú necesitas descansar. No estás solo.”

“When the letter about eviction comes, it feels like the end. It is not. It is a bad chapter. Find out what your council can do, even if the list is long. Pack a bag for each child with their favourite thing. Ask for help, even if it is hard. Keep one routine, like a walk or a song before bed. You will look back and see you got through it. You will not feel strong then. But you will be.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in March. Section 21 notice. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are at the start of the year. Landlord selling. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the summer. Section 21 notice. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: embarrassed at school about lunches was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last year. No address for job forms. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“When you're facing eviction it feels like the whole world is moving faster than you. It isn't. You just have to do one thing at a time. Call the council every day if you have to. Ask for the housing officer's name. Keep a notebook. Take photos of the mould. Don't wait for someone to save you. And if you have kids, try to keep their routine the same, even if the address changes. That is what I would tell anyone starting this.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are around Easter. Cheap pasta every night. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in November. My phone is my lifeline. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in the autumn. A hostel bed. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: the council housing list was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“I'm not going to tell you everything happens for a reason. It doesn't. But you can get through it. I did. I'm not especially strong. Housing advice charity soted my deposit dispute in a week.”

“Sé que ahora todo se siente imposible. Las cartas sin abrir, el miedo a que te echen, la vergüenza de pedir ayuda. Yo estuve ahí. Lo que me ayudó fue abrir una carta a la vez. No todas. Solo una. Y llamar a un número de ayuda que encontré en internet. No te prometo que sea rápido, pero se puede salir. Pide ayuda aunque te dé vergüenza. No estás solo.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: sofa surfing for months was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time. God willing it gets easier.”

“I'm not going to tell you everything happens for a reason. it doesn't. but you can get through it. I did, and I'm not especially strong. what helped me was writing everything down before appointments, otherwise I forget it all.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are after the new year. Section 21 notice. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: my phone is my lifeline was my lowest point, and a year later I am ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“Please be gentle with yourself. I wasn't, and it made everything harder. I kept every message from the landlord. It saved us in the end. And talk to someone, even if it's just in here.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in March. A temporary hotel room. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“Hey. If you're just starting this, I'm sorry. It's a punch in the gut. I got a section 21 notice and thought I'd be on the street by now. But I'm not. First thing: know your rights. The council can help, even if it feels slow. Second: lean on your people. My sister drove me crazy, but she also drove me to viewings. Third: find one small thing that makes you feel human. For me, it's my balcony tomatoes. You'll get through this. Probably with less salsa than me, but still.”

“I am only a few months into this, so I don't have big answers. What I can say is you are not the only one skipping meals. I used to think everyone else had it figured out. They don't. Tell someone. A friend, a brother, anyone. I told my friend Joy and she didn't look at me differently. That helped more than I expected. The end of the month still comes, but I am not carrying it alone now. You don't have to either.”

“I'm not going to tell you it gets easy. It doesn't right away. But you learn the numbers. You learn which office to call and which one to skip. You learn that the housing list is a waiting game and in the meantime you find the food pantry and the neighbor who will watch your kid for $20. My dad used to say a roof is a roof. He was right. Take the hotel room. Take the studio. Take the help. And keep calling about the list. That's all I've got.”

“If you're on the street or in your car, I won't pretend to know your exact situation. But I know the shame. The hiding. Tell someone. One person. Keeping it inside made it worse for me. A shower at a gym, a bed at a hostel, it's not the end. It's a step. Take the help that's offered. Keep going to interviews. Even if your shirt is wrinkled. Someone will see you.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are three weeks ago. Showering at the gym. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: rent went up 300 a month was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time. Praying for strength.”

“If you're just starting this, get everything in writing. Even texts. Keep a folder. I used a shoebox at first and then a plastic wallet from the dollar store. It sounds stupid but it helps when people ask questions. Ask for help from the council or whoever, but don't wait for them to call you back. Call them. And if you're in a hotel, don't let the kids see you panic. I used to cry in the bathroom with the fan on. Not every night. But some.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are after the new year. A temporary hotel room. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last week. The council housing list. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are around Easter. My phone is my lifeline. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are last month. A temporary hotel room. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“I remember reading notes like this and not believing them. So I'll just say what happened to me: the end of the month was my lowest point, and a year later I'm ok. Not perfect. Ok. You will be too, in your own time.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are a few months back. Landlord selling. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“to whoever needs this: i was where you are last spring. sofa surfing for months. today i made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. it comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“To whoever needs this: I was where you are in August. Rent went up 300 a month. Today I made breakfast, went to work and laughed at something. It comes back slowly, like feeling in your fingers after the cold.”

“If you're at the start of this, I won't pretend it's easy. The first few months were the worst of my life. But I'm writing this from the other side, and some days now I forget to be sad. Housing advice charity sorted my deposit dispute in a week. Go slowly.”