Life's Journey... Living on the Streets

Life.... Not once in my life did I ever think that my life, my entire existence would center and revolve living, or rather merely existing along the seams of society. But by and through the illegal actions of a despicable landlord, I have been forced to exist on the streets. Days have long transformed into weeks, which morphed into months, and which turned into years. And those years extended further still into decades. Closing in on nearly 2 solid decades on the streets, being readily and repeatedly denied and refused any and all assistance because I do not fit the Stereotypical impression of what a homeless person is supposed to look like, smell like, and act like. I am clean (which in and of itself is an endless challenge trying to find places to clean up) and presentable; not chemically dependent, I have never drank, smoked, or done any drugs, have never been inclined to even try the life-destroying habits that apparently are a requisite for a homeless indiviual to obtain the assistance they have been so readily denied and refused thus far. Things that have worked against me because I never developed any of those habits.

Due to being outside for so long, I can no longer even dream about having a real home. Any and all dreams I ever have, are more about living on the streets. Life on the streets has become second nature, every fiber of my being, every cell in my body has become so atuned to living on the streets, that you quickly become used to things that you could not fathom before. It has become a way of life, not a life of my choosing, but a way of life, nonetheless. Your life transforms into a mundane existence, and not seen or viewed as a living, breathing, feeling being. You are treated differently right from the very moment your four walls and roof overhead turns into Nature's Living room. Which has never made any sense to me, since the only thing that has changed is your living arrangements. But then, the longer one is forced to live without the comfort, warmth, and security of a home, you find you do change.... not always for the better. You become hardened, inside and out.

You are forced to change because of a circumstance not of your choosing, but one you were sentenced to because of the actions of others. You become a person you never wanted to be, and get sucked down the drain of life on the streets. The more you try to surface, the more you are pulled under. The meaning and purpose of life eclipses life on the street, where you find no meaning or purpose. And wonder, time and again, why bother? Doors slammed hard in your face when seeking help (the help everyone claims is there but nowhere to be found that I have ever found).

Echoes of your former life flashes through your thoughts from time to time, until that is all but a dream in and of itself. The only life is not the one you can still see glimpses of, but the one directly in front of your eyes, as your bed is now the hardened ground, where the cold and damp seeps into your bones, and the stars, or overcast clouds filled with moisture, are your roof. Your kitchen and bathroom are wherever you can find with running water, usually parks and libraries, and convenience stores. No longer are you able to store, prepare, and cook foods. With a little stove, you may at times be able to boil water, but it is quite limited, and you can only make enough to eat right then, since there is no refrigeration to store the remainder in. Forced to do all your most private and intimate things out in public, including using the bathroom.

Your life is now in full view on the screen of the public's eye, in every detail of your life. Privacy doesn't exist when your life is on the street. Where does privacy exist anymore, anyway? Since we are video montiored and recorded everywhere we go and in all we do. Every call made is recorded. Being physically challenged and female has taken that to an all new level.... with so many people now with smart phones, cameras hidden in glasses and such, and video recorders, people video tape the way I move because it is just the funniest damned thing to see someone's knees buckle and swing with each step, due to extensive nerve damage.

Being on the streets for so long, and all the mean, cruel remarks and actions toward me that I have to contend with all day, everyday, has really turned me off from connecting with people anymore. So I turn toward Nature and her Beautiful creatures who share my days and nights with me, and who opened their homes to me, when my own race has turned away from me, time and again. Meditating starts my mornings off, and closes out my evenings. Hummingbirds and dragonflies alighting on me, dogs always stretching and trying to come over to say hi. Some dog owners allow their dogs to coem over, but most pull and jerk hard on the leash, yelling "get away from that". Seems I have gone from a HUMAN BEING, to a THAT. Good to know. I must be doing something right, though, since I am still breathing (to what end??? no idea), and healthy, for the most part. I live in excruciating pain that is severe and debilitating 24/7 due to the extensive nerve and soft tissue damamge I have to contend with, among other things. But healthy in the sense that I do not get sick with colds, the flu or any of the other things that I am surrounded by and with everyday. And I know for certain that if all these people who claim there is "so much help to those who need it" were forced to live even a day on the streets, they would not make it more than a few minutes, at most. Making harsh judgments and assumptions about someone else's circumstance are based on their opinions, not in truth.

You face incredible challenges when your life is lived on the streets, even more so when you are a physically challenged female. Challenges you could never imagine ever having to endure and live through. And those of us outside face enormous harsh judgments and assumptions that are not based in fact. Experiencing the underside of humanity, not a pretty sight. These people have never stepped into our very worn and deeply broken in shoes before making their remarks, but they know "exactly" what we need to do, where to go. And when things don't go as they think it does, then they insist that you are outside by "choice", because there is just so much help available. Right, and where exactly would this so-called help actually be? When you do not fit the part of the advertised homeless person, there is no help. The requirements for "help"; you must be chemically dependent with drugs and alcohol, be a smoker, an illegal immigrant, have dependent children, or are a senior citizen, then you do not qualify for assistance. I was put out on the streets Sept. 1st, 2000. I just faced my 17th anniversary on the streets, and heading into my 18th Holiday and Winter Season on the streets, alone. If there was help available, I have yet to find it.

My "drug" of choice; writing, and going through volumes of books. I post a little bit to my personal Blog about my expereince on the streets. It is how I process life, and all that entails. And what I post is only a very small sampling of my experience.

My Blog: https://alifefromthestreets.blogspot.com