Tony’s Story

I can’t believe how life is today.

I grew up in a pub. My parents ran it, so my sister and I were around alcohol from the start. They worked long hours, and we were left to get on with things by ourselves. Home wasn’t easy. There was a lot of violence. I’d hear them arguing and fighting all the time. When my mum finally left, I remember thinking, I can finally sleep.

As a teenager, I stopped going home for weeks at a time. I’d bounce between friends’ houses, wash my clothes at theirs, and just keep moving. By then, alcohol had already become part of my life. I got drunk for the first time at 14. The hangover was horrible, but it didn’t stop me. Drinking became my way of coping.

Over the years, I worked all sorts of rough jobs. Drinking helped me get through it. Life was about surviving and just getting through to the end of the month. Eventually, I ended up living in social housing, and that’s where things really took a turn. I was drinking bottles of vodka alone every night. Isolated. Hidden. No one saw me falling.

I knew I couldn’t manage my money properly while drinking, I got into serious debt, more than £8,000. Then, the worst happened. People I’d seen grow up in the area broke into my flat, assaulted me badly, and left me hospitalised for a month. While I was still in hospital, they went back and destroyed my flat. Flooded it. I lost almost everything I owned. I’d been asking for help for ages, warning people, but no one listened until it was too late.

After that, I got re-housed and things looked hopeful for a bit. I found work and managed two months of sobriety. Then I got made redundant, and I spiralled again. I pushed my family away. I used to tell people, I’m like the Titanic. I’m going down, but you don’t have to come with me.

Eventually, I became street homeless. I thought I could handle it, but when winter hit, the cold was unbearable. I started hallucinating. I stayed in winter shelters, but they only opened in the coldest weather. You can hide from the rain, but not from the cold.

One day, I collapsed. I was drunk, starving and freezing. Someone called 999. I ended up in hospital again, underweight, in a coma, and had to learn to walk all over again. But when I was discharged, I had nowhere to go so I had to head straight back onto the streets.

I was broken. I’d lost everything, even my ID and passport. I was angry and grieving. One day, I set fire to the bins outside the housing office that had evicted me. I was drunk, but I realised what I’d done and tried to stop it. I pulled the bin back and burnt my hands. I even called 999 myself. I got three years in prison and served half.

When I was released, probation referred me to Transform Housing & Support. I didn’t think anyone would take me, not with an arson conviction. But they gave me a chance. They saw something in me. I moved into one of their dry houses, but I relapsed quickly and was recalled to prison. I felt like I’d let everyone down. I even told the staff I didn’t think I’d ever stop drinking.

But Transform didn’t give up on me. They worked with probation and arranged a place for me at Steps2Recovery in London. When I left prison, I went straight into rehab. That’s when things started to change.

I finished the programme and came back to the Transform house in Reigate. This time, something clicked. I started talking properly about my past, my trauma, my PTSD. I began to understand where my drinking had come from and why I’d carried it with me for so long.

With help from staff, I got diagnosed with PTSD and started counselling. They supported me with benefits and helped clear my debts through a charity. They were also there when I needed to grieve for my mum properly. That was something I’d never really faced before.

And at 58, I learned to drive. I still can’t believe that. It wasn’t easy, but I stuck with it. Passing my test was one of the proudest moments of my life.

I’ve now moved into a “move-on” flat and made it my own. I’ve kept my sobriety going. Five years now. And while it’s still a daily battle, I can’t believe how different my life is.

I’ve even gone back to woodworking, something I used to love. I’ve built a chess table, a dove box for the garden, and even a coffee table for the dry house. It feels good to create things again and to feel useful.