I wasn't expecting my Mum to throw me out on my 16th birthday. She did not sing Happy Birthday. She did not organise a party. But she did say a few words about how I was an adult now and it was time to go.
I had known there would be no card or present or even one of those Forever Friends mini cakes. But despite our broken-since-birth relationship, I still didn't see it coming.
When I play back that day it's always in slow motion; she asks for my door keys and I hand them over. She says she'll pack my belongings into bin-liners and leave them on the step awaiting my collection. There is some pleading, lots of questions, an argument, an explanation.
In reality - it happened quickly. It was a sucker-punch of a moment; pragmatic, mildly haunting, without drama. She delivered her line and I made my exit.
Life-changing moments often take a while to make an impact, for that sneaky assault to inflict its pain – that will come later. That will emerge in your lost decade; in the strip clubs you will work, those nights you drink to excess. In the drugs you will use to self-medicate and the abusive relationships you are drawn to as you desperately search to be taken care of. You will feel it in the police cells you will wake up in and the refuges into which you flee.
For me, this all came later.
Because on that day I left for school, as usual.
My 16th birthday was spent begging for help at my local council. They told me to go home. A wasted couple of hours in the Jobcentre, they told me to go home. When I eventually made it into school later my teacher said the same thing. Go home. But by the end of my birthday I wasn't really sure where that was.
I was on my own now.
If a law had been in place to protect me on the day I turned 16 then my journey into adulthood may have been very different.
Instead, 'home' became my grandma's flat, it became friend's floors, and it became my much older boyfriend's student halls. Sometimes mum would let me 'home' for a few months but the violence was getting worse. My life became a constant search for a new bed, a new start. And in that search I found myself prey to ruthless men offering new starts and beds to girls like me for a physical (and highly emotional) price.
And so headfirst into my lost decade I went…
At 17 I found myself standing on the stage in nothing but a thong auditioning at a Hostess Club. The only skills required were having just enough hustle to make men drink copious amounts of champagne. They do expect to have sex with you. Refuse too many times and you'll be looking for a new club. You have a choice; integrity or rent? Expose yourself and you are exposed to the elements of the seedy underground; drink, drugs and exploitation. I embraced them all, they embraced me. And, in hindsight, I can see that I didn't really have a choice in the matter.
It was only when I was 29 and my daughter was born that I started to recover.
Recent research from The Children's Society shows that vulnerable 16 and 17-year-olds who present as homeless are often left to fall through the cracks – caught between childhood and adulthood with no laws to protect them, nobody really knows what to do with them. As part of their Seriously Awkward campaign the organisation has launched a petition and is calling for a law change to ensure these teenagers are given the same protection as younger children. This will mean they will not be left to fend for themselves, will be placed under social services and into suitable accommodation with other children.
Last year, in one of those rare moments where life allows you to go full circle, I found myself working as a housing officer at my local council. I spent each day meeting girls and boys like me, aged 16 and retelling my sad story. They sat in front of me terrified and tough and begging for help. They were just children, forced to navigate a very adult world; they were placed into emergency accommodation with convicts, addicts, sex workers and over-exposed to the cruelty of life. Almost 20 years on from my uncelebrated 16th birthday, the law had remained the same. It left me powerless to help.
My story is not a one-off. Unfortunately family relationships will break down and those 16-year-olds may find themselves without a home and without a family. But we should be able to help them, to provide safe accommodation and support.
The law needs to change to protect these children. I know what life can be like without it.
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Guest post: Homeless at 16 - "The law must change to protect children like me"
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MumsnetGuestPosts · 29/09/2015 15:10
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