If someone had told me a few years ago that I wouldn't be able to support myself, I would have laughed in their face. Ever since I finished school, I've always worked and managed to support myself, so much so that among my group of friends, I was the first to buy a house. For many years, I worked as a laborer in a small company, which unfortunately closed one day. Whether it was due to the crisis or the difficulties post-pandemic... my employers tried their best to keep things afloat. It simply wasn't possible.

At first, I managed as I always had, taking on odd jobs here and there. But today's Trieste isn't the Trieste of my youth, and the job market is what it is. The situation inevitably worsened, bills piled up, and without a stable income, there came a time when I couldn't do anything anymore.

It was Paolo, a childhood friend of mine, who told me about Caritas' soup kitchen. He has been a volunteer there for many years, and although I was very reluctant and ashamed at first, he eventually convinced me that there was nothing wrong with accepting a little help during tough times.

My first time at the soup kitchen was a strange experience. I felt uncomfortable, observed, and just wanted to go back home. But I was surrounded by smiling people, Paolo above all, I had a hot meal in front of me, and after a while, I realized that no one cared why I was there or why, at my age, I didn't have money to buy groceries. They only cared that I was okay and how my day had been. Period.

The next evening, I returned. And the one after that too, until luckily I found a new job and no longer needed this small extra help. However, I decided to become a volunteer myself and donate a few hours during the week to give back the kindness I received during a dark time. And for that, I am immensely grateful.

I've lost count of the years I've been a volunteer for Caritas Diocesana Trieste. I started when I was young because it seemed like a beautiful thing to do, and I simply never stopped. Over time, I've seen and met many people with different stories, especially at the Refectory. Many people from Trieste, not just migrants or those from outside.

Davide was one of them. We met in elementary school, were inseparable until high school, and then drifted apart a bit when he started working and I chose university, but we never lost touch. The last few years have been tough for him, especially when he lost his job and started struggling to make ends meet with odd jobs here and there.

A very kind person, but terribly proud: I knew it wouldn't be easy to convince him to accept help. But I couldn't in good conscience say nothing, so one evening I gathered my courage and told him about the Refectory. Like many other people from Trieste, he knew nothing about it nor that anyone could access it and receive a hot meal in times of need, and above all, he was terribly ashamed.

The first dinner was very difficult for Davide. I saw him really struggling, so I did my best to distract him, introducing him to the volunteers on duty and some of the guests with whom I had already had a chance to chat and knew a bit better. A kind of shock therapy, to show him that nobody cared that he was in difficulty and that he wasn't alone in that moment, that there were people willing to share that burden with him and others who could understand because they had been in similar situations.

I'd say it worked, because not only did he come back, but he chose to become a volunteer himself when he finally found another job and no longer needed Caritas' support. I couldn't be happier for him, really.