CityGent -
Thanks so much for starting this thread. I’m blown away by everyones stories.
I am such a wussy compared to y’all ;)! I just know I’d crumble under the same circumstances.
My hat’s off to you all.
3Bmama
For me, the worst part of staying in the shelters is having to sit through a sermon. Why are there so few secular shelters?
I may have asked for money and/or food and/or work, but I never bowed my head to get it. I think that trying to convert people when they are at their weakest physically and emotionally is about the lowest you can go for your religion.
I work with exoffenders helping them get jobs. Many of them are homeless, some in the shelters, some not. Those not in the shelters, I help them get in (if that’s what they want), those in, I help them get into the ‘better’ one.
I’ve also let them use my office phone number for applications etc (and allowed some to get ID here). So, I was glad to see from Czarcasm’s remarks that it does indeed do some good (although I do allow this, there simply aren’t that many who’ve needed to use it, so the chance of it being black listed is remote, plus our company name sounds like a motel).
I don’t even know that I can put into words how impressed I am with the way y’all have pulled yourselves up, and at the same time, how ashamed I am of some things I’ve thought at times when I see homeless folks. And at how good I do have it, and always have. Yeah, things have been bad at times-and there were times I didn’t know where rent would come from, but I always managed somehow.
I can only hope that I have half the strength some of you have been forced to have.
The elite of the homeless go to Hawaii.
On the verge of homeless in 1997 due to substance abuse, I used the last of my money to fly to Honolulu and walked off the plane with fitty dollars. I had never been in such a pickle in all my life. I had absolutlely no idea where to go or what to do. I wandered around town for hours, too embarassed to ask for help. Finally I passed a hospital and figured that there would be sympathetic figures in there. They turned me on to http://www.ihs-hawaii.org/. Little did I guess at the time that that would be my “home” for the next two years. Relatively speaking, I had it easy. I made friends from all over the country who had the same idea I had - if you gotta be homeless, might as well do it where you aren’t going to freeze to death. In case anyone from Hawaii is reading this and is angered by this whole concept, can’t say I really blame you.
I can’t even imagine how someone could handle being homeless in NYC. (I was aslo told that San Francisco had abysmal shelters). I take my hat off to anyone who has bounced back from that.
A year and a few months, including one winter. Bad. Very bad, in fact, including psychosis, and divorce, and false recoveries, and relapses. I lived by being verbally far more facile than my true state of being was. I was a source of information on social service and legal references for drug dealers and prostitutes. They paid in food and coffee. I earned it by knowing shit that most street people did not know. I don’t remember long stretches of it. I don’t try hard to do so.
In the end I got locked up, in a hospital, back before the Republican party destroyed that safety net. Were it to happen today, I would have died. But the Director of the Hospital where I was gave me a letter of reference to the Director of the place where I work now pretty much saying “He is unconventional, but he is not dangerous.” The man took a chance, and hired me. Twenty-two years later, I am still there. I have to move out of my apartment, pretty soon.
Did I mention that I hate moving?
Tris
“There is nothing so absurd but some philosopher has said it.” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero ~
I was homeless after a relationship with a woman I should never have dated ended in 1995.
Fortunately, I had lots of friends in 12-step recovery (my NA and AA family), so I only spent one night sleeping in a park.
For the next month, I was sleeping on peoples’ couches, moving every week. Fortunately I was employed at the time.
It was a very emotional time in my life. I was embarrassed about having almost 2 years in recovery and being homeless, being involved in a domestic violence event, and working for minimum wage. My self-esteem was very low and Life seemed hopeless. One thought kept me alive, that I would not give that bitch the satisfaction of seeing me fail after she punched me around and called the cops on me.
I was kept from the worst of it by friends who were willing to help me out, a safety net. I pulled myself out of the situation by working and getting better jobs. Thank the god of my lack of understanding that I had my friends at that time.
I have been blessed in that despite my financial difficulties over the past year and a half I’ve been able to keep a roof constantly over my head. However, all three of my closest friends have spent some time homeless.
The most recent is when my ex Eric had to hunt for an apartment last month after his brother’s evil wife threw him out of their place. He crashed with us for a week until my roommate Moishe and he got into a fight, and he left. He spent a few nights on the street (which absolutely broke my heart - picture me, after a sleepless night, haunting the Village at dawn trying to find him to give him a change of clothes) until he came up with another friend to crash with. He’s since found an apartment, but he lost his job immediately after finding it (and after having kept it while homeless!) so it may prove difficult for him.
The sharing and mutual help that my friends and I have managed to come up with for each other in times of need have been really important for all of us. Even when I’ve had next to nothing, I’ve felt compelled to share it with my friends who are in even more desperate straits, because I know they’d do (they have done) the same for me.
When I was 17, I couldn’t stand my dad, so I moved out with no place to go. I bought a '62 VW Squareback for $15 and and lived in it for about 6 months. Took showers in a nearby college. In hindsight, I’m sure I could’ve found someone to let me sleep on their couch or whatever, but I didn’t want anyone to know I couldn’t take care of myself. Pride’s a funny thing.
I’ve been lucky in recent years, and I take a lot of pride (there’s that word again) in the fact that it hasn’t always been roses.
That homeless people come here to live never upset me. I’ve often thought the same thing about them not freezing to death here.
I just wanted to stick my head in and agree with Lsura. All of you… your experiences are hitting closer to home than I imagined they could. I am humbled and amazed.
Manservant Hecubus, your post has stayed with me since the first time I read through this thread. I stand in awe of you.
Similarly to the Hawaii argument, I’m given to understand that a lot of homeless and itinerant people from eastern and central Canada flock to Vancouver, with its more temperate climate, for the winter.
I dunno if my experience fits the definition of being ‘homeless.’ I know it doesn’t hold a candle to the magnitude of what many of you have gone through. I am truly awed.
Moment of silence for the shit people have to go through sometimes:
When I got kicked out of school, I had already fooled the Residential Life office into letting me live in campus housing for over a month after the school year started (in which I was not supposed to be participating), and I had also been eating on my meal card during that time. The Dean’s Office/Administration didn’t know this (who knows where they thought I was living or what I was eating), and when they found out, they were pissed. So they evicted me immediately and cut off all my privileges as a student. I suddenly found myself with no room, no access to food, and no job-- they got me fired, too (I was working on-campus, but not employed by the University), and no money to buy a plane ticket home (from CT to CA) or anywhere else. So I bummed around, sleeping on couches or in other peoples’ dorm rooms, and snuck into the dining hall or used contacts I had in Food Services to get free food. I did odd jobs around town, many for sympathetic professors, till I had enough saved to buy a train ticket to VA and get to my aunt’s house there.
So, in all, I was without an official place of residence for about a month. I was lucky, though, to be in just about the best possible circumstances to be in that situation. I knew a lot of people who were willing to spare a couch (or share a bed, heh) for a night or a few, and it’s real easy to scam free food on the campus of a private liberal arts college. I thank my lucky stars that my one taste of ‘homelessness’ was as easily handled as it was, and that I didn’t have to live through anything like the stories you others have posted.
Former homeless person checking in. I lived on the streets of NYC for almost six months. I use to sleep in the Port Authority bus terminal or Central Park at night (thankful it was summer) and in the libraries during the day. I’d scrouge up enough change for a cup of coffee and go into delis, wash up in their bathrooms, and grab food from abandoned tables on my way out. One guy saw me doing this, and bought me two sandwichs and a breakfast special. I’ll never forget that if I live to be a thousand.
Finally got a job around the holidays in a store, and the owner let me stay in the back room. I actually had a place to sleep and a bathroom. Once I got some money saved, I found a basement room with a bath in an old house filled with roaches. Got a real job and a real apartment.
People sometimes wonder how I can be happy with so little. My response? “Cause when you’ve had nothing, anything is something.” Most of them don’t get it.
I’m glad I revived this thread. (Look above and you’ll see my post came about a month after the preceding post.)
Would anyone else care to go to the GD thread “The homeless choose to be homeless” and point out that for many (perhaps most) homeless people, the answer is a resounding “No”? I mean, there’s someone there who thinks the average homeless guy can make $60 a day by panhandling.
(a) to echo many others, I’m flabbergasted and impressed by what many of you have lived with
(b) I’ve never been homeless myself, although one of my good friends (and most recent ex) has stories that are similar to many of these
© there’s a huge gulf for me… if I was ever stuck without a place to live, I absolutely positively know for certain that I could call up my parents and they would send me money for a plane ticket and I could stay with them until I got back on my feet. I’ve been lucky enough to never come close to needing to use that safety net, but the fact that it is there, and that it is so deeply ingrained in me that I’m always shocked that other people don’t have the same thing, makes many of the stories people tell seem completely foreign. I’m damn lucky.
I’m technically homeless right now, but not anywhere near to the extent of some of the people above.
Long story short, I was able to keep an apartment in Chicago while staying in Minneapolis with a doper who had gotten me a job. I was getting back on my feet when I decided to try an all-or-nothing bid on LA and the movie industry. I can’t say it failed, as I still have a movie coming up. What I can say is that it pretty much ruined me financially.
I have no apartment at all, certainly no credit and a very bad employment history behind me. I’m staying with two dopers right now (one during the week and one on the weekends) and I have two jobs (same deal). I can’t get a bank account so they’re cashing checks for me. One of them is storing my stuff in his basement, the other is making sure my dawg is fed.
I’m hoping with some help (which I’m definitely getting) and some luck (not so much), I’ll be able to get a place in September again.
Even in my situation, with a roof over my head and food on my plate, it’s hell. I mean, it’s hellhellhell. Hella hell. Pride is a large thing to swallow and it doesn’t sit in my belly well. I’ve had to ask for help, and often at that. I’ve had to deal with “You know I can kick you out” jokes. I’m depressed. I’ve gotten rid of most of my stuff. I’m sick often due to my schedule and catch-as-catch-can sleeping arrangements. I’m tired all the time. It’s not going to get better anytime real soon.
On the other hand, I have friends that were able and willing to help. I AM eating, I am working and I am not sleeping in the elements.
It shall get better.
My hat is off to anyone that has pulled themselves out of this.
Hamsters ate my nice yet long-winded post, so I’ll just say yes, I’ve been homeless. For about six months. It stinks.
I hope the hamsters aren’t bothered by tiny little posts. 
Wow, guys. It’s been said many a time before, but I’ll echo it: my hat is off to each and every one of you who were down and out, and pulled themselves back up again.
Whilst not converting this into a political thread: I find the attitude of the American government towards the homeless apalling. Granted, my exposure is limited, and there may be a lot of good initiatives I’m unaware of, but it looks like the attitude is “ignore it, and it’ll go away”. Maybe part of it is unwillingness to face past political disgraces (e.g. Vietnam vets). I don’t know. But I do know it is unfitting to any nation that calls itself civilized.
Ahh “tough love”. I do remember being forced to go through those meetings. My parents thought I was a druggie, hung out with the wrong crowd etc…etc… So they kicked me out.
I was a “street kid” in Seattle for about 5 months. Slept in backs of cars, behind bushes, public restrooms, on top of buildings, and anyone’s living room floor I could manage to curl up on. I stole food from the bread racks of bakeries, stuffed peanut butter jars in my pants, and jumped in public fountains to scrounge up whatever change I could get before being caught. I hung out with a large group of other street kids. There were nights when I couldn’t find any kids around and ended up cold and alone. I was 16 at the time.
I had quite a few interesting experiences. Mostly men offering me “opportunities”, which I (Thank God) did not take. I did a lot of drugs during that time and met many people and I don’t totally regret it. I think it made me a stronger person and gave me some “street sense”, if you could call it that.
My Grandmother sent me a plane ticket to her home and I enrolled into school and graduated in my class year, so everything turned out okay for me. I have worked with kids and teens for awhile now and I think I can relate to a lot of them easier because of my own experience with being homeless.