On Friday, the homelessness reduction bill comes before parliament for its second reading. The private members’ bill presented by Conservative MP Bob Blackman would make sure no one is refused help because they’re not considered a “priority”. I hope that as many MPs as possible will back it, because this is what happened to me.

In 2015, I became homeless at the age of 47. Before then, I’d had a 20-year career in the care industry, supporting individuals with challenging behaviour, learning disabilities and mental health issues. I rented my own room, and had done for a good few years. One evening I had a phone call while I was at work informing me that my mother had passed away. I was working with young adults with mental health issues at the time, there were attempted suicides, and I found it hard to continue going to work. I didn’t see it at the time but I was depressed, and obviously grieving. I couldn’t cope, so I left my job and continued living where I was, supporting myself with the money I had in the bank. Everything was a blur around me and I just never got myself out of that darkness. Eventually, I was evicted because I couldn’t afford the rent anymore.

I sat behind a wall all night, wondering what to do, where to go. I felt like I didn’t exist

I went to the council and explained what had happened and that I had nowhere to go. But they just told me I wasn’t a priority because I was a single guy with no kids and I wasn’t drug- or alcohol-dependent. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I kept saying “well, where do I go from here?” But the council staff had no answers. They just told me I was “non-priority”. It shouldn’t be happening. If you’re homeless, you need help there and then.

When I left the council office, I sat on a wall for about three hours not knowing where to go or what to do. That night I went round the back of some shops and just sat behind a wall all night, wondering what to do, where to go. I felt like I didn’t exist. That’s a horrible way to feel. That feeling continued for days. I spent a lot of my time wandering around, basically trying to hide myself, to the point where I would just go and sit in some wasteland and keep out of people’s way. I didn’t know who to contact, where to go. Eventually I’d come out at night. I think not knowing where to go and being afraid to talk to anyone is one of the hardest things. All you want to is hide yourself away. You feel so useless and worthless. At one point, I asked myself: “Shall I carry on?”, but I’m glad that I did.

I was on the streets of Birmingham for just under two weeks to the point where I hadn’t eaten for days. I was scraping together the few pennies I could find and buying something like a tin of beans, and that’s all I’d eaten. It was only by chance that I happened to message somebody I knew who had done counselling, and they sent me Crisis’s number. When I visited the homeless charity’s local office, even just that hello was really nice, and a hot cup of tea. I explained what had happened, where I was, and phone calls were made straight away. Within two days I was in a hostel. From the hostel I moved six months later onto a supported place, where I had my own small apartment.

I received a range of support from Crisis, including advice on benefits and housing, and courses and classes to improve my skills and boost my confidence. It just gave me hope that I could move forward, just being able to talk about what had happened. During this time I met my partner and ended up moving down south. I’ve since started working back in care and things are looking a lot brighter.