She Considers Leaving Home

It is now official that Julie is not going to university this year.  It was decided months ago, of course, but it is only now, as her friends get ready to leave home, that other people have started to notice that she is staying behind.  What is she going to do?, everyone wants to know.

Julie is incapable of studying or working full time.  Since she finally left school at the end of June, she has been enjoying an extended vacation and stress levels have, as a result, been generally fairly low.  But autumn is on the way, her friends are leaving, and the prospect of a long and empty winter looms.  She is on the waiting list for therapy which reputedly would go a long way to helping her back into life, but the treatment itself is long, and there is no sign of her even reaching the top of that waiting list yet.

This enforced idleness could go either way.  As a family we are resigned to supporting her financially, practically and emotionally for the indefinite future.  But recently Julie has decided to take matters into her own hands, and apply for a place in supported housing.  There are various schemes in the nearby city which give a room or hostel place to a troubled young person.  One of these might possibly be persuaded to take her in.

What do I think of this?   I’m in distinctly two minds.  On one hand I know how strong is that pull to leave home at this age.  I’m pleased to see her taking risks, and without a university place it is hard to see what other route into independence she can find.  I wonder too if the reality of solving basic practical problems every day will give her confidence as well as some much-needed motivation.  After her years of illness, she may need this more than most.  At the same time, she will be close to home, and there is some support available at the accommodation itself.

But on the other hand, there clearly are problems with this particular solution; other people seem very keen to go out of their way to list the drawbacks for me.  The accommodation provided by these schemes is extremely basic and shared. It is meant for young people who have no other alternatives.  Other tenants are likely to have problems of their own.  The UK government has just withdrawn housing benefits from under-25s.  A life begun on state benefits is a poor way to start adult life, and she may get caught in the benefits trap.  The support that is given tends to be on the standard 9-5 Monday to Friday office hours pattern: Julie may not get adequate emotional support at evenings and weekends.  Her emotions are still very volatile, she is easily manipulated by other people; it is easy to imagine her becoming withdrawn and stressed.

When I speak to different people working in mental health I get very varied responses.  Julie’s own care-coordinator, Jude, is optimistic: in fact she is an important driver of the plan.  She has been encouraging Julie to leave home for some time.  She has taken a very active role in the applications process, and is confident of securing adequate financial support.  She has years of experience, and her optimism is impressive.  But I ask another experienced person working in a similar role, who knows Julie and already has clients in supported housing: she thinks the whole idea is bonkers.  Why would anyone in Julie’s situation give up the comfort and support of her family to live alone in a hostel on benefits?  It would take up a place from someone else who needs it; state financial support is dubious; there could be an adverse impact on her long-term mental state.

I don’t know what to think, so I sit on the fence.  I enjoy Julie’s company while she is here, while accepting that I don’t know whether or not she will be living with us in three months or three years (or thirty years).  I ask her about her plans, but I don’t help her with them, and I offer neither encouragement nor discouragement.  Who can know how things will turn out for her in future?  Young people, even sick young people, have to make their own decisions and their own mistakes.