I’M heartbroken and furious and overwhelmed and empty – but I am not at all shocked.

This city is filled with people who are struggling. It doesn’t matter whether it’s with housing, with home schooling or with having a tin opener for the contents of the bag from the food bank. We all have things that remain hidden beneath the surface on good days but when they are chipped away at by forces outwith our control, we break. When we remove the human beings from the systems and processes and make them policies and procedures created by some unknown other, we also remove the fact that there are people at the other end of those systems who are suffering as a result of them. We take away people’s freedom, dignity and autonomy and then feign surprise when they break. We are failing people.

We are fragile. Words alone can cause irreparable damage to each of us and in a city that claims its people are what make it and friendliness is a given, I can find far too many examples of the opposite. I refuse to give my column space to the statue protectors but feel free to insert an appropriately strongly worded rant here.

But then there are also the days when a dad and his son come into the Refuweegee space to get a food package and some books and toys. The wee boy’s face lights up when he sees our community replenishing a wall of board games and puzzles. His dad thanks the team constantly and shuffles nervously as we try our best to put him at ease whilst putting together a pack that suits the whole family. Yesterday when he came in I took him aside to ask if his wee boy has a tablet and if not would he like one for him. It turns out that today is his seventh birthday and I’m not sure who is more excited for it now. Beautiful serendipitous timing.

I’m tired and sad and whilst I know I’m here, I’m not sure where here is anymore, but I am not at all shocked and I haven’t yet found the anger that is usually quick to put me to action. My usually unshakeable trust in Glasgow has been shaken; not broken, just shaken.

When you are surrounded by the kindness of this city day after day there is no need to search for the positives, they are everywhere. But the stark differences between people’s experience of the same space continually reminds me that the louder people are failing the silenced people; the richer people are ignoring the poorer people; the whiter people are denying the rights of the black people; and by far the worst of all, we are missing that the powerful are pitting us against each other by feeding us these labels instead of simply calling us people. We’re all so busy pointing at each other’s labels that we are losing sight of the fact that we are all people and we can all hurt and be hurt.

Those in positions of strength and power have forgotten that the words coming out of their mouths have consequences for other people whose voices cannot ever be heard in the spaces their own are booming. They have forgotten that at the other end of the economy, of Brexit, of the law, of it all, there are people; decisions made, statements issued, questions avoided, people ignored. We are failing people.

But then there are the days when donations are piled up on your doorstep because the office door is closed so that the team can have a desperately needed day to process and plan and take care of only themselves. And on those days the community that you’ve been supporting suddenly starts supporting you. The bags left at the door are guarded by those who have previously come in for a food package, mobile phones are borrowed to try to contact the team to tell them that donations are waiting for them, people are stopped when they attempt to rummage in the bags with righteous comments of “you can get what you need from the team when they are in, that stuff isn’t yours”.

And that’s the calm moment of realisation that whilst we might not be able to change the people who are choosing to fail others, we can refuse to let people suffer at their hands. We hold that power as individuals – but even more so as communities when we come together as just people.