From years of isolation to joy and hope at Christmas

Christmas is a time filled with joy, family, and belonging — but for people experiencing homelessness, it can be a reminder of what’s been lost.

Andrew* knows that feeling all too well. After spending five Christmases on the streets, he shares how Hutt St Centre helped him rediscover companionship, comfort, and hope.

"Christmas was my favourite time of year. It was actually a big part of my life growing up.

My parents weren’t religious, but we always went to Midnight Mass. Christmas morning meant opening presents with my three siblings, then heading to Nanna’s for lunch and later to my dad’s family for dinner.

Mum was one of seven and Dad one of four, so Christmas meant a house full of cousins, laughter, and food.

But there was always tension. My dad got anxious because drinking often led to fights. And as I got older, I cared less about the meaning of Christmas and more about how much alcohol I could put away.

On the surface, I looked like I had it together — good schools, horses, loving parents, a career in finance and property. But inside, I was unravelling. One year I earned $300k — and ended up with nothing.

When addiction took over, my boss let me go. My parents, knowing I needed a wake-up call, wouldn’t take me in.

That’s when I hit the streets. I stayed in the grandstand at Victoria Park Racecourse for six months — a place tied to happy childhood memories."

"The first weeks were brutal. I barely slept, partied with one of my brothers from the streets, then woke to chaos at morning soccer matches.  

After that, I camped wherever I could, living out of my trolley with blankets, dustpan, clean needles, and bottles. Life on the streets taught me to survive and to keep close only to a few people I trusted.

Christmas was the hardest. I could manage most of the year, but on Christmas morning, the ache for family hit me like nothing else. For five years, I spent it alone, telling myself it was easier than spending it with strangers.

I didn’t really miss my family during the year, but Christmas hit differently — the nostalgia was sharp. I told myself, “I should have made plans,” but I stayed away.

Even when I was in touch with family, I knew I wasn’t in a state to join them. With addiction and past mistakes, I could have caused chaos. I wasn’t ready for a family Christmas."

"I first heard about Hutt St through what I call my family from the streets.

I came in on a Monday after waking up to soccer in the grandstand. I came for meals, showers, laundry, and just to have a safe space to relax.

Jacqui, the nurse, was lifesaving — giving flu shots and vaccines. And Pete’s meals? They’re nourishing, the difference between surviving and falling victim to the elements.

I often think of Hutt St like Nanna and Poppa’s house. Nanna would cook and make sure everything was okay, while Poppa taught us how to stay safe. Hutt St looks out for you every day — even when you don’t realise its value until later.

I'll be honest with you, I used to be afraid of coming to Hutt St on Christmas, thinking it might feel different or forced.

But the last three years I attended it was incredible. I knew the staff, who had given up their own family time to be there. Gaye, who had known me through my years on the street, convinced me to

The highlight was spending Christmas with people I already trusted—they genuinely wanted to help. And while it could feel like any other day, it was also a chance to be in the festive spirit and practise being with people, just like family."