I was living at my Dad’s until I was about 22, when we started having arguments because my Dad didn’t like my friend. A load of other bad stuff happened and he threatened to hit me. I contacted my mum and she collected my stuff, but she had three younger kids so I didn’t fit in. She phoned social services after a week and I was moved to a B&B over Christmas. I just couldn’t cope, back then.
I’ve got loads of friends at The Y and my keyworker has seen me grow in the seven months I’ve been here. He would do anything to help a resident to get the confidence to do what they need to do. He keeps up to date with my college, my family, my baking, everything. He talked to the college when I was bullied.
My grandma always baked with me when I was a little kid. I realised after coming here that I want to be a baker. On Wednesdays I’m at the lunch time club, cooking for elderly people, my teacher asked me to do the desserts every week. I bake because I want to make my niece and nephew proud of me and I want to prove to my family that I’m more than capable of living on my own. Now everyone can see that I’ve got the passion and I want to be successful.