I ran what I would consider a fairly successful building construction company in Melbourne until the GFC hit in 2011. Like many businesses, it collapsed. I lost everything. I can still remember the shockwave of fear, panic and shame surging through my body.
Unimaginably, I was out on the street – I felt that I needed to run – to hide from the situation. There was no way I could turn to family or friends, I was too ashamed. I didn’t feel worthy of their help. And I couldn’t face the people my business owed money to, so I left and fled to regional Victoria.
How did I end up under a bridge in Bairnsdale, in a t-shirt and jeans – freezing, hungry, penniless and terrified?
When you find yourself in this situation one thing becomes apparently clear – help can be hard to find. There’s no signs hammered into the roadside pointing to where you can get a blanket or a bed for the night. There’s no shops you can walk into and grab a free hamburger for your aching stomach. Your evening is spent where your body falls, no food, no money, and no safety.
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