Dare to dream… dare you? Dare we? Can we, from the lowest of toil, dare to dream, big? Bigger?
Let me tell you a quick story,
It might not seem obvious to you, unless you’ve been there, but it might. Here’s the thing, the poverty trap is a trap – a big one. For years I lived in social housing, scraping by, doing odd jobs and even working in the adult industry, to raise a few quid – to survive.
There was no extra for upward mobility, hell, there was no extra to keep the heat on.
Seriously.
It isn’t just the daily grind, the doing whatever you can, including renting your body out for an hour or two, to feed yourself – it’s the threats.
The council tax enforcement
The water company debt collector
The bailiff at the door
The fear
The panic
The electricity cut off
The no furniture (because you can’t afford any)
The judgemental shriek at the community furniture bank:
“but you’re working! You have to be on benefits to get our items”
The ‘I’d be better off on benefits’ but prouder than that
The: ‘I’m going to break free’
Knowing full well – you are out of energy, stamina and luck.
Then, six (of twelve) years later:
Epiphany.
‘I am gong to University’.
The small (but mighty) student loan:
The student halls:
That all the posh students moaned about:
I was in heaven.
Safety.
For the first time ever.
This, this:
This is my story.
The start of it.
Oh friend… dear dear friend, I am so happy you are here.
It’s going to be an adventure.
The past (stay with me, it gets better),
The present (not at all bad)
The future…
Yet to be written.
Ready?
Let’s go…
In Love,
Matt xx
Part 3 of a series… let’s reprogramme it… together xx
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