“Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop”

I wish I could take that advice, but you’ll just have to forgive me for jumping in at the middle. At some point I will tell you my tale of woe, but for now, I just want to introduce myself.

Hello, I’m a statistic. I’m 47, I have no job, no home, and am really just trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from, and how I can escape this mountain of debt piling up and threatening to bury me under an avalanche of late fees and hardship forms.

I also have four cats, who live temporarily in a little room in the suburbs, and are thankfully pretty happy and healthy. I had a fifth cat, a cranky 13 year old tabby, but he was never going to be happy crammed into the room with all the others, so he sadly had to go to foster care until I can find him a more permanent home.

I go to see my cats every day, and give them as much cuddles and food as I can afford, and tell them this will all be over soon and I will find us a home again. Sometimes I sleep there in the little single bed there, and they all pile on. And even though I wake up with a bad back and twisted up like a pretzel, I am so grateful I still get to do that.

This actually isn’t the first time I’ve been homeless, but I’m a lot older than the last time (when I was 33). I’m more tired, more disabled, more ill than before. And I’m sad and angry that everything I spent the last 14 years building has vanished like it was nothing.

I wouldn’t be in this position if I had work. But unfortunately the same resume that’s served me well over the years has become an anathema to the AI bots that now sift through all hopeful job applications, selecting only the “right” ones. I haven’t learned how to hack the system yet, and to be honest if my fate is being decided by AI then we have bigger problems at hand.

Of the hundreds of jobs I’ve applied for this year, if I do get a response it’s usually a form rejection email. If I get a rare interview, I’m told I’m “overqualified” or “not the right fit”. The last place I interviewed at (who, ironically, are set up to provide services to older women who are struggling) said I didn’t answer their questions in “the right way”.

My mental health is suffering with every rejection, so I have stopped looking for work right now. Thankfully I am on government benefits but they don’t stretch far. Hence the debt I racked up while I was moving out of my last property (under duress – which is a story for another day!), which has started to accrue late fees and attract nasty phone calls and I am drowning.

Anyway, I’m sure I will unpack all of this as we go. I slept over with my cats last night, and today I have had some Devon and crackers and cheese and an apple that I had in the fridge there. I stopped in at the TAFE library to work on and submit an assignment, but will go now to the place I’m staying at this week as I have some food in the fridge there – a burger I saved from an event on Saturday night, and a bit of salad.

Really, my life has become all about food, and I hate it. Where can I go to get a meal? What food vans are operating today and where? Where’s the nearest food pantry? What groceries can I buy with $5? How long will this food last without access to a fridge? Who can I hang out with who will feed me? And every fortnight after I get paid I like to treat myself, but that’s turning into an accounting exercise as well and I can’t even enjoy McDonald’s without feeling guilty.

I’m a bit worried about the long-term affects of all this instability and food insecurity. But c’est la vie I suppose. I just need to keep going, try to keep a pragmatic outlook, and hope for the best.