We were in Asda – me, my wife and our baby son – when the email arrived telling me the Home Office was giving us leave to remain. They’d refused it at first, and we were appealing, but suddenly they changed their minds: they are going to grant us refugee status. I shouted my wife’s name in the middle of the aisle. I took her hand and raised my other hand in the air. We picked up our son from the pram and kissed him, and we both started to cry. People were watching – they must have thought: “What’s going on with that family?” We didn’t care. We were celebrating. We were so happy, so grateful. Now we’re still feeling that joy and excitement – real excitement – but there’s also a mixture of anxiety and stress about what’s ahead. We have been living in Britain for more than two years. Now we know we can stay, we’re asking ourselves: “How are we going to survive here? How will we manage with accommodation and bills? What if I don’t find a good job?” As asylum seekers, we have our accommodation, our gas, our water, and our services paid for, and we have our £40 weekly allowance to live off. Now asylum is granted, we will have to find new accommodation and I can start looking for a job. Three weeks ago, I began studying in college for my maths and English qualifications, and I’m also taking an online technology bootcamp course. It’s just a starting point, a first step. I can see how difficult it is to survive in this country for so many people right now. Our baby is growing so fast that we are always looking for new clothes for him in charity shops, and I notice how many other parents are in there with babies in prams, probably looking for the same thing. I stopped working at the food bank after our son was born, but now I am back volunteering again. The supplies are so low – you can see how the economic situation is hitting people and stopping donations. Last year, I remember we had mountains and mountains of pasta, baked beans, tomato sauce. I remember sorting out trays and trays of soups in tins and sachets. Now I am back there and there’s nothing much to do. I asked a colleague: “Where is everything?” He said: “It’s all been eaten.” Although I’ve read in the newspaper that the government is saying things are getting better, for us a lot of things are more expensive. We are so careful to check prices on absolutely everything. Lidl is the cheapest for most of our shopping, but we also go to Morrisons or Asda for sale items – sometimes you can get big bags of bread at a reduced price after 5pm. Chicken, ham, eggs – any protein – has become so expensive, it’s incredible. On top of that are all the other things we need. I have two pairs of trainers, but nothing that keeps out the rain, so I would love a pair of boots for winter. It’s not going to be possible. Getting to college twice a week is also expensive as it is two buses each way – a total of £10. That’s a quarter of my weekly budget. I don’t want to sound as if I’m a victim. We have a lot of hope and we have our son who is fine, and growing and crawling and trying to climb on the furniture. He’s looking at me right now. I want the best for him and for everyone around us. A good society is not just about your own family, your home or your job, it’s everyone together. We came here to save our lives, and now it’s our chance to give back more than we have received. As told to Anna Moore. Paul is in his 30s and is an asylum seeker living in the north of England. Names have been changed The Trussell Trust is an anti-poverty charity that campaigns to end the need for food banks. Show your support at: trusselltrust.org/guardian