I am homeless. I am writing this on my cellphone. I do have one modern technological luxury. Thank God.
I sleep in my car with my friend Will and our dog Andy. It’s tight and uncomfortable, but there is no other choice. A bus bench maybe. The ground. We had a cold hard floor in the Livermore Homeless Refuge and a thin yoga mat. You try it. That sucks.
Will has spinal stenosis. A bad back that requires surgery. Sleeping as he does now or on the floor or ground is painful and difficult. I have had a stroke and am disabled and suffering from incontinence. I have done the “walk of shame” from my car into Safeway or Walmart because I didn’t make it before I overflowed my Depends undergarment before I could reach the restroom. I am 53 and have no children. My “rig wasn’t wrecked” by childbirth. Just damage to my central nervous system when I had vascular lacunar strokes.
In that sense, I have no one to blame but me. My body failed me and I failed my body by not taking better care of it. I have diabetes and high blood pressure and I smoke. I did when taking care of “mom” and she threw out my meds as I was an “addict”. That is a long and ridiculous story of a narcissist who thought she was above everyone else and killed my father and tried to kill me over prescription drugs that she didn’t feel were necessary in her opinion.
I will write a book about my life with her. It will make Mommy Dearest read like a cute fable. Gunn had nothing on Joan Crawford other than insanity and an ego.
Back to me. I will document here what Will and I are going through, what we are experiencing, what organizations are giving us service’s and how we are progressing medically, psychologically and emotionally.
Each is it’s own world and combined is simply a wait at death’s door.
In Alameda County, San Francisco Bay Area, there are 1.69M inhabitants. An annual census, to be released this summer, will show 17% of its population is homeless and that figure will be low as it was a visual count done by volunteers. I was to be one of the “paid” participants. At some time, I will recall how that initial meeting went, which was a joke. You can spot homeless people with cars from the urine puddles. Really Mr-not-in-my-backyard-jerk? Puddles!? The maligning the homeless go through is atrocious and, as one of the homeless, completely offensive. I do not urinate outside my vehicle. I did once and fell over and almost broke my glasses and sustained road rash that lasted for days, along with humiliation. My balance is unstable. I fell. I am disabled and just needed to do a human bodily function as there were no rest rooms nearby that were open or available. I don’t have a penis with which to aim and write my name. Or a Gatorade bottle.
Will and I unfortunately discussed this at great length. Ggggggrrrrrreeeaaatttt length. I do not want to discuss peni or male bodily functions ever again except for brief medical processes that discussion can be complete in 30 minutes or less. This may be beyond Will’s capabilities. (Love you Trophy Hubby)
It has been 13 days since we bathed. There are no location’s for the homeless community to bath that is handicapped equipped without someone screaming for you to hurry up as soon as you enter the area. Forget about even turning on the water, if it’s working. The cement floor is slippery and very cold concrete with 0 handholds or ability to sit. But they are “trying”. As a disabled woman, no you are not. Two separate locations maybe twice a week if you can get on the list and if they call you without someone else jumping ahead of you. I would rather stink than deal with that chaos since I have a TBI with cognitive impairment. I emotionally break down when my brain overloads and get banned from one location for “making a scene and being disorderly”. I am disabled police officer. Go away as I told you. You’re upsetting people.
It is wrong. It is against God’s Word and lessons. And that is what I will write here. How we fail to treat our brethren with love and respect.
Stay tuned. I will not proselytize. Just write of real life occurences.