Summary

Ava, a Zetetick tenant and ambassador, shares her experience of moving into a home as an autistic person. Although she was given a home, the move was rushed, the house was unfurnished, and unfamiliar support staff entered her home, making it difficult to feel safe or settled.

She explains that a home is more than having a place to live. People need privacy, choice, control, and support from people they know and trust. Ava believes autistic people should be involved in decisions about their home and support.

Through Hike4Homes, Ava wants to raise awareness that getting a home is only the first step. People also need the right support and stability to truly feel at home and build a life there.

Finding a home is often seen as the end goal, but what if that’s where the real challenges begin?

In less than two weeks time, we’ll be doing our second annual Hike4Homes fundraising walk. This year, one of our Zetetick ambassadors, Ava, is taking part in the hike and fundraising for Zetetick. We’re really excited to have her join us and have asked her to write a blog post for us, explaining a little bit more about her experiences and why she’s chosen to take part.

Ava, a young woman with dark brown hair, wearing a black coat and blue shirt, standing outside of a building. She is holding a sign that says "Free Our People. Bring Them Home." — Ava campaigning for Homes Not Hospitals

Ava’s Story

Getting a home is often seen as the finish line, but for me, it was only the beginning of a completely different set of challenges. I’m autistic and a trainer, speaker and advocate.

When someone gets a home, people often assume they will feel safe and that their wellbeing will improve, but that’s not always the case. Simply getting the keys doesn’t mean you’re now safe and settled.

Moving into my home

When I moved in, the home was unfurnished and my transition from temporary accommodation was rushed. External agency staff who didn’t understand me also entered my home. This meant it didn’t feel like a safe space or a home I could settle into.

I felt on constant alert, always anticipating when someone might enter or what might happen next. With no control over who was coming into my home, I couldn’t relax or unpack, and I was unable to make the space feel like mine.

What turns a building into a home, the keys, or the freedom to feel safe, respected and in control?

As an autistic person, uncertainty can be incredibly overwhelming. Being expected to suddenly have unfamiliar agency, who I’d never met, coming into my home without any say left me feeling on constant alert. My home became associated with hypervigilance rather than safety. Instead of being somewhere I could relax and recover, I was always anticipating who might walk through the front door next.

It also made me feel as though I didn’t have the same rights in my own home that most people take for granted. Having choice over who enters your home, being asked for consent before things happen in your home, and having your privacy and boundaries respected are things many people expect as standard.

Should having these basic rights depend on whether you’re autistic and receive support?

Being autistic also made it harder for me to initiate conversations with people I didn’t know. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to engage with them, I simply needed the opportunity to build trust first.

A home becomes a home through choice and control, over who enters, having consent respected, privacy upheld, and the ability to personalise and furnish the space so it feels like yours. It also depends on receiving the right support from people you know and understand you, rather than feeling intruded upon or unsettled.

What does it really mean to feel safe in your own home? Who gets to decide when a space becomes ‘home’?

Ordinary life and equality in the home

For me, living an ordinary life means being treated with the same respect as anyone else would expect in their own home. Most people don’t have to fight for their preferences or privacy to be respected in their own space.

Choice, consent and control are essential to feeling that a home is truly your own.

Planned transitions

A transition should be planned in partnership with the person, not done to them. It should include preparing the home properly, supporting people to choose how their space looks and feels, and ensuring support is in place before they move in.

Autistic people shouldn’t be expected to conform to approaches that undermine their wellbeing or safety.

Sometimes transitions are rushed due to wider system pressures, which can mean less focus on how settled or supported someone feels once they move in. This can have the opposite effect on wellbeing.

Good support means being involved in decisions about my own support. After a long period of experiencing practices that were harmful to me, I was eventually introduced to a new agency with greater autism knowledge. I was included in introductory meetings with the agency about my support and had the opportunity to meet new staff beforehand so I could decide if they were a good fit for me.

This is why I’m taking part in Hike4Homes, to highlight that housing is only the beginning, and what happens after someone moves in matters just as much.

Building trust shouldn’t begin after someone walks through your front door. It should begin before they become part of your life.

Hike4Homes

My lived experience of moving between temporary accommodation and not feeling settled has shown me that getting a home is only the beginning, not the end result.

A year later, I still haven’t unpacked because the environment has felt so unsafe that I haven’t been able to make the space my own. It hasn’t felt like the home has been treated as my home, which has made it very difficult to begin creating a sense of belonging in it.

Getting a home should be the beginning of stability and belonging, not the start of a new set of challenges. Housing is not just about access to a building, it’s about whether someone can truly build a life inside it.