‘The line between coping and not coping is incredibly thin’

Athboy woman Maria Graydon remembers the moment she came frighteningly close to giving up, not because she had a plan, but because, for a brief and terrifying moment, she could not see a way forward.

“I was at my lowest point,” she says. “Everything felt lost, and I honestly didn’t know how I was going to get through it.”

That moment came in 2011, during a short but traumatic period when Maria (59) found herself homeless and moving through emergency accommodation.

“I remember thinking about going down to the Liffey,” she says quietly. “That’s how dark it got.”

At her lowest point, she became convinced she was a burden on those she loved a distortion of thinking she now recognises as part of the trauma of homelessness.

“I don’t know what stopped me,” she says. “All I know is that I kept walking.”

More than a decade later, Maria is sharing her story publicly in When There Is Only Plan A – Action, a newly released book that brings together real-life accounts of resilience, responsibility and change. Her chapter traces a journey from crisis and homelessness to recovery, education and advocacy — and a determination to challenge the assumptions people make about those who lose their homes.

“I didn’t rebuild my life overnight,” Maria says. “It happened step by step. This book is about not giving up on yourself, even when everything feels lost.”

Like many people, Maria never imagined she would experience homelessness. She had travelled widely, worked, and built a life she assumed would remain stable.

“You never think it’s going to be you,” she says. “Homelessness is something you think happens to other people.”

After returning to Ireland following time abroad, a series of sudden and compounding personal and practical circumstances left her without accommodation, financial security or warning.

“I was left in a situation I hadn’t seen coming,” she says. “My finances collapsed very quickly. I had no home. And I had to make decisions under enormous pressure.”

Initially, Maria stayed with friends, juggling temporary arrangements while trying to keep working. But the instability soon took its toll.

“I felt like I was imposing,” she says. “I knew I couldn’t stay like that.”

Eventually, she contacted Focus Ireland, where she learned that in order to be officially recognised as homeless, she would need to present herself to the local authority.

“To be recognised as homeless, you have to declare yourself homeless,” she says. “That’s a sentence you never imagine you’ll say about yourself.”

What followed was not what she expected.

“I thought I’d be put into a B&B,” she says. “Instead, I was placed in a homeless shelter in Camden Hall.”

The reality of emergency accommodation hit hard.

“It was terrifying,” Maria says. “It was dirty, damp, frightening. I felt completely out of place.”

She spent just nine days in that accommodation, but the impact was lasting.

“You’re living on a knife-edge,” she says. “The line between coping and not coping is incredibly thin. Even strong people can be swallowed by the darkness.”

Maria describes that period as a “state of transition” rather than a permanent condition, but says the environment itself can push people further into despair.

“When you’re treated like you don’t matter, it’s very easy to start believing that you don’t,” she says.

What followed her darkest moment was instinct rather than planning.

“I don’t remember making a decision to survive,” she says. “I just kept walking.”

That walk led her to her parents’ apartment — a brief but crucial moment of safety that altered the course of what came next. Later that day, Maria entered supported accommodation with Crosscare, a social care agency of the Catholic Archdiocese of Dublin, providing services for people experiencing homelessness, poverty, social exclusion and disadvantagea, a move she describes as her “saving grace”.

“For the first time, there was structure,” she says. “There was dignity. There was a plan.”

With the support of a key worker, Maria began rebuilding her life through small, achievable goals.

“Every day I set myself two or three things,” she says. “Have a shower. Eat something. Use the computer to look for jobs.

“They reminded me I wasn’t finished,” she says.

Gradually, progress followed. Maria secured work, accessed backdated entitlements, and eventually raised enough for a deposit and rent on a private apartment.

“I wasn’t asking for much,” she says. “All I needed was a small two-bedroom place one room for me and one for my daughter.”

As stability returned, so did confidence and a desire to speak out.

Maria began addressing seminars, advocacy events and media platforms focused on homelessness and social justice, using her lived experience to challenge stigma and raise awareness.

At one event, media personality Norah Casey approached Maria afterwards and admitted she had not expected “someone like Maria” to be the person sharing a homelessness story a moment Maria says underlined how deeply stereotypes still run.

“She told me it frightened her,” Maria recalls. “Because she realised it could happen to anyone.”

Today, Maria lives in Athboy and is a student nurse, studying while also working in hospital settings. She believes her lived experience shapes how she treats others.

“I don’t judge,” she says. “Everyone deserves dignity. Everyone deserves to be seen.”

She credits her parents, her husband Martin, her daughter and those who supported her when she was at her most vulnerable.

“I truly believe this journey had a purpose,” she says. “It shaped who I am and how I care for people.”

For anyone currently facing homelessness or living in emergency accommodation, Maria’s message is clear.

“This may feel like the darkest moment of your life,” she says. “But it is not the end. There are people who want to help you — and you are worth that help. Take it one step at a time. Celebrate the small wins.”

And as for finally telling her story?

“That ‘someday’ I always talked about it’s here,” she says. “And if telling the truth stops even one person from giving up, then it’s worth it.”