meet a guest Poppie Fleur

I’ve never been happy really; I’ve always felt I was in the wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong body. I was born in Sudbury in Suffolk 40 years ago and I had a troubled childhood. When I was 14 I was sent to board at Oakwood House Special School in Stowmarket. The school has been in the news a lot recently, the Headmaster Eric de Smith was imprisoned for 7 years but some of the others involved in the place just got a slap on the wrist. I can sum up Oakwood in 3 words: Fear, Dread, Hate! I spent 2 years there and it was a hellhole. There was sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, neglect, torture. I was unhappy and bullied there but I was miserable at home too. My parents just didn’t know what to make of me and home life was pretty dysfunctional. I hardly had any friends, but from the age of nine I did have one best friend, Karl. Karl was beaten up and killed by a gang of thugs in Sudbury. I’ve often wondered if it was ‘Gay Bashing’, but we just didn’t talk about that sort of thing in Suffolk in those days. I was devastated; I was so close to Karl and his mum.

I got married when I was 20. I was in love with my wife and I think she knew I was different before I did; she was very understanding. In those days I was transvestite, but to be honest I was so confused about my gender, my sexuality, my identity, I didn’t know what I was. After three and a half years the marriage broke down. I’d saved quite a bit from my job as a care worker and I went Interrailing. To begin with I had a great time, but I had a break down in Spain. Looking back I think that was the start of my mental health problems. I was flown back and hospitalized; I was so unwell, I was in and out of A&E. I developed eating disorders, I self harmed and I was suffering with self-neglect.

In 1999 I had my first taste of homelessness on the streets of Bury St Edmunds. During this period, sometimes I got accommodation, sometimes I stayed in shelters; I remember one shelter in Great Yarmouth where I suffered the most terrible homophobia. In 2000 I came to London for the first time and was street homeless for a year and a half. I slept in shop doorways in the Strand, Whitechapel, Leicester Square; I lived off soup runs and day centres. It was Hell! I got accommodation somewhere in Aldgate; it was so horrible! I tried to kill myself, the Police kicked the door in and I found myself sectioned in St Clements Mental Hospital. I spent 6 months in St Clement’s and then moved to a therapeutic community in Willesden Green. I was happy there; I felt safe and cared for. In fact I felt so great that after 2 years I left; big mistake!

I found a flat but I couldn’t cope and became homeless again. I had another suicide attempt; this time I was found walking up the central reservation of the A12; I think I wanted get run over! I was put in a hostel in Hackney where I tried to kill myself again. I was on the street once more; I was at rock bottom and beginning to despair.

I moved back to Sudbury and I was kind of ok for a year or so when I met and moved in with the love of my life. She was wonderful and she understood me, but I couldn’t believe that she could love me. She fell pregnant but had a termination. We were both so very sad and I messed up and we parted after 3 years together. I came back to London and got a place at an R. D. Laing therapeutic community in Holloway and I was really happy there for a couple of years. I left to live in Leeds with a partner but that relationship broke down and I ended up in a awful hostel full of drug addicts; it was really scary!
I came back to London and stayed in a hostel in Dalston. It was damp, mouldy and crawling with cockroaches, but the owner was very kind to me and I was actually quite happy there and had a great time.

For the last 3 years I’ve been with a partner living in hostels, B&Bs and shelters, some nice, most pretty nasty! A couple of weeks ago my relationship ended and like a broken record, I found myself back on the streets until I got a bed at Shelter from the Storm.
SFTS are trying to get me referred to the Gender Identity Clinic at Charing Cross Hospital, but there’s such a long waiting list. My dream is my transition. I long to become the woman that I’m going to be for the rest of my life. The people at Shelter from the Storm are trying to look after me but I’m really quite frightened of the future.
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