£29 to My Name, -£2048 in Debt – Help Me Breathe Again

Hey, I’m Amraj.

I’m a queer, neurodivergent creative. I’m living with my parents in Slough. And this has been the most challenging year of my life.

For the past year, I’ve been stuck in survival mode—living paycheck to paycheck, juggling unstable jobs, and managing ADHD, depression, and anxiety. I’ve been in overdraft for months. Right now I’m -£2048 in the red, with just £29 left in my Monzo. Two payments have already bounced. I’ve spent so long trying to make it work, it’s only now that I can admit—I’m not just treading water. I’m sinking.

The tipping point came last week. I walked away from a tutoring session with £100 in cash—badly needed money I’d earned. Somewhere between my workplace and the train station, it fell out of my pocket. Gone. I retraced my steps, asked around. Nothing.

That loss shattered me. It cracked open everything I’d been holding together with duct tape.

I originally set out to ask for £100—just enough to make me whole. But when I paused, did the maths, and faced the full picture, I realised: even with that money back, I couldn’t stay afloat. And so I decided to stop hiding the truth.

How I got here

I spent nearly a decade chasing the dream of becoming a professor. I was on a PhD track in Sociology—my life was pointed toward academia. But then COVID hit. My scholarship ran out. I was under-supported and overwhelmed. I submitted what I could and came out with an MPhil. It wasn’t what I planned—but it was everything I had left.

I left the programme under-qualified to be hired in academia, and with no money to continue.

After that, I was forced to move back home with my parents in Slough. Returning after ten years away was disorienting. For someone like me—brown, LGBT, neurodivergent, creative—it’s been isolating. Tight quarters, no friends nearby, no room to breathe. Most days I feel anxious, stuck, and heavy.

I’ve been applying for full-time work since March 2023. In the meantime, I’ve hustled wherever I could: selling pasta on the street, working promo shifts, doing admin temping, tutoring, distributing samples in freezing rain. It’s all zero-hour. No consistency. Sometimes work gets cancelled last minute—no notice, no pay. I’ve lost thousands of pounds this way. And the travel alone to get to jobs in London costs me up to £30 a day.

Still, I’ve kept showing up. Last week, I finally got offered a three-month part-time contract—20 hours a week, £17/hour. It’s the first stable opportunity I’ve had in a long time. But I haven’t been paid yet. And I don’t have the funds to get myself to work, cover my bills, or buy food until the money comes in.

What I’m asking for

I’m asking for £1,070 to carry me through this final stretch—to help me stabilise, not spiral.

Here’s the UPDATED breakdown (03/04/25):

What you’d be funding is not just money. It’s space. It’s dignity. It’s the ability to go to work and know if I can afford to eat that day—or get home.

Where I’m going

I don’t want to stay here. I want this new job to be the start of a new chapter.

I want to move out by the end of the year—out of survival mode, out of constant panic, and into something like stability.

I’ve got tutoring clients I want to expand. I edit videos—a specialist skill I want to grow. I’ve even got framed art and prints stacked in my room, ready to turn into a business, but I’ve been too overwhelmed by the financial pressure to launch.

My family has helped where they can. But things are tight. My mum is working multiple jobs and wakes up panicking about money. My dad has stopped offering financial support entirely. I need to take the pressure off both of them—and off myself.

I didn’t want to ask for this.

I’ve doubted whether I even deserve help.

But I do. And I’m done hiding that truth.

If you’ve ever been in a space between holding it all together and letting it all fall—then you know what this is.

Even £5 helps. Even a share brings this to someone who might care.

Thank you for reading. For seeing me. For believing this moment could be a turning point.

All my love,

Amraj

xx