I grew up being passed from one bad situation to another. I didn't have my own bed, or often any form of bed, mattress, or sofa. I ranged from newspaper and what I was wearing, to my closest stab at normality; an extendible deck chair (teen in an adult?s bedroom who couldn't possibly be let sleep anywhere else!) with proper blankets, that tipped up and threatened to catapult you, or drop you in a crumpled heap if you moved and your bum wasn't in exactly the right place.
My existence was always temporary, my life a problem to be solved rather than lived or even enjoyed. Where and often how, I slept, wasn't a matter of any concern, including in fairness, to me.
With hindsight I can see that while I?d have thought it the least of my problems at the time, and one of the least obvious, it really was quite a good indicator of what was happening to me, depreciating status from an already low one, and lack of importance or permanence to anyone, which in turn left me open to natural predation.
A child without a ?natural? place to sleep, can be taken off by anyone, to anywhere, at any time, to anyone?s car or bed, quite reasonably, it?s not like it ?should? be somewhere else, or something abnormal?s happing.
There?s a huge difference between a well-loved child in an unconventional situation, (one of mine was allowed to live and sleep in a cardboard box that he?d decorated and denned for a weekend because he was having soooo much fun) and a child who?s unvalued, a problem, and has no place, permanence, or right to a space to call it?s own anywhere, drifting through life uncared about.
I've little faith in SS, knowing them (as an adult) to be a post code lottery of good, bad and indifferent, and range from intelligent, educated, and caring, to shockingly dim with poor literacy, and self serving, but honestly, any worried co-sleepers, happy mattress on the floor lot (and my cardboard box dweller) have little to worry about in terms of ?do they have their own bed,? in itself, it?s really not the actual issue.