Remembering to B R E A T H E...

Life.... takes on a whole new meaning, and the levels of meaning change when you are forced to a
life on the streets. Each morning I wake, that is, if I was given the chance to get the slightest bit of rest, and wonder anew why I am here. To serve what purpose, really? When life has lost any and all meaning years back, when hope was still a sparkle that could happen, that has long since gone by the wayside.

Breathing, and remembering to breathe, each moment, and through every minute throughout the day and night. They say there is a "purpose" to everything, but having to live and breathe on the streets every moment of my life..... where is the purpose there? And to be continually and readily denied my existence, the help and assistance I need, nowhere to be found. So where is the purpose of being forced to live, or rather barely exist along the periphery of society... of humanity, on the streets being denied my rights because of circumstance not of my choosing, but forced to endure, nonetheless....????? 

 Purpose? I have yet to find what purpose is meant by living on the streets, having to do all of your personal business in the wide open forum and theatre with a full attending audience in front of humanity, in the deepest sense. Your privacy ripped to shreds, time and again. When you have nothing to look forward to, no one to share your time, or days with. No one truly caring how you are, mentally, physically, emotionally..... spiritually. It takes a devastating toll on your person, on your heart, on your soul in ways that can never be healed. The things you are forced to endure because of the illegal actions of a landlord that put you out here.... the unbearable underside of humanity cast your way because your "home" has an endless roof overhead.

When you are put outside to live on the streets, your life as you knew it, is no more. Learning to survive not only the harshest extremes of weather, but the cruel, heartlessness of society. Echoes of what life used to be like is erased and becomes more corroded over in rust, as you begin to harden more and more on the inside just to face the next day, and night. Reminding yourself to keep B R E A T H I N G, but to what end? More than 15 years spent in mere existence on the streets, going into my 16th Holiday and Winter Season this year. And it never gets any easier to face another day out here, but rather pulls me further down into the unfathomable depths of no end.

I no longer try connecting with others, as people, for the most part, have really turned me away from life, and off from people. No longer a fan of this thing called L I F E, or excited about another day, another night, especially when it is spent on the streets......But I readily connect with my furry and feathered friends that share my nights with me, and welcome me into the folds of their space. Spending so much time in nature has afforded me the chance to become closer to nature and her beautiful creatures, than I ever have been to a single person. They are my closest companions, and confidants. They are who I share my passions with, the ones I have connected to, and the ones who have openly accepted me. They have never condemned me, criticized me, ridiculed me, made fun of me, laugh at me, or any of the other uglier things that people have done and continue to do whenever they are near me.

Being a physically challenged female living on the streets has it's own challenges to contend with, that male counter parts do not. So I force myself to keep breathing, in and out, day-in, day-out. I literally have to remind myself to breathe and keep breathing just to get through the day, and every day that follows thereafter. Something that should come so naturally is something that I am very aware of and have to remember to do so....... wondering why I bother.

The Courage to B R E A T H E

   ~ The Courage to Breathe ~

                                    A Life From The Streets

The emptiness filling your soul as you wake to yet another morning of being out on the streets --- Forced into circumstances you didn’t choose and couldn’t have imagined in your worst nightmare, has become my life. Every morning pasting a fake smile on my face that I really don’t feel and drudging along through another day of Hope, sprinkled heavily with despair. My heart closing tighter in my chest-- Looking forward to and dreading facing another day, another night.

The shadows displacing the echoes of fear….

The Whispers of Hope through the gentle touch of loving kindness when it is bestowed from someone who really cares-- A rarity to behold and treasure. Shown the briefest glimpse of Humanity. Being shown such vicious contempt more often than not when you no longer have the privilege or luxury those four precious walls and solid roof afford you.

The gift and blessing that gentle touch brings to your heart, your soul--- gives you the courage to breathe, the courage to make it through another night, and face another day. The courage to keep your heart open to love, the courage to face the ignorance, hate, and violence with love and not lower yourself to become someone different by acting out with the same.

The harsh cruelty you have to contend with day-in, day-out starts to harden your heart, filling the depths like wet cement; yet we’re drying out on the inside. The violent assaults, both verbally and physically simply because of a circumstance we didn’t choose but are forced to endure; Yet, we’re the ones considered CrAZy, unbalanced, unstable. Given these labels the moment your home is so abruptly taken from your life, so society unleashes their full fury toward you like a wild fire spreading through the forest. Given full clearance to show their ugliness in full, disgusting glory—Simply because we no longer have that precious commodity called a H O M E.

Being accused of stealing your own water when you go into a store to use their restroom—Demanding to see the receipt for a nearly empty bottle with no label on it, but they insist ‘they sell that brand’. Followed around like you’re a criminal because you carry a bag on your shoulder-- Yeah, I’m obviously NOT carrying enough weight and looking for even more to carry. No matter how clean and presentable you are, you’re automatically guilty of stealing what you take in with you and carry with you at all times when you walk in with a bag on your shoulder—Because we obviously came in to STEAL something, why else would we have a bag on our shoulder???

Almost compelling you not to go out of your way to be clean, to find, at last, some way to get that precious roof over your head and continue to push against the never-ending doors being slammed hard in your face-- Just succumb to the inevitable of being the human waste of society. Give up on caring, on love, ….on life, the way society wants you to, expects you to.

Discarded as a Human Being the very moment the stars in the skies become your roof and the trees and bushes become your walls. Your living room transforms into the park benches you find during the day just to rest your tired, blistered feet and swollen ankles for the briefest of time before you have to push forward and move on once more. The tread soon wearing quite thin from the endless miles being put on them---

Given the worst looks when you finally find SOME PLACE just to sit for the briefest of time, even when you are boarding and riding the bus, people make their comments about ‘your bags’, demanding to know ‘why’ you carry so much, leave it at home-- We can only dream of the day when we don’t have to carry our life, or what’s left of it around with us. People will look at you like you’re an alien if you happen to be walking around, and being out in the wind all night, haven’t had the chance to see why people are giving you such disgusted looks as you make your way to the nearest open and available restroom. Then understanding their disdain with your presentation. Your hair standing on end, looking like you kept a few wet fingers a little too close to some light sockets.

And when you add a disability to this, especially one of a physical nature, the violence escalates to an even higher degree. People going out of their way to be so very cruel, mean, and nasty toward you and to you, because society deems what is ‘Tolerated’ and what will NOT be when you have a disability and you have to move and present yourself within the narrow confines prescribed and set forth by society. Trying to ‘Prove’ that you’re ‘faking’ it—you must be, because you are not MOVING the right way, at least not in the way that society has prescribed as what is ACCEPTIBLE, PERMISABLE AND ALLOWABLE in the way you move, act, and present yourself--- They literally go tripping you up, pushing you hard into the ground, assaulting you from every angle; both in the violence, ignorance, and hate of their words, as well as by and through their violent actions and behaviors directed fully at you, making very rude, caustic remarks in passing. Laughing their asses off as you walk by—because you’re just the funniest damned thing they ever did see. Some, unconvincingly, try to cover their ignorant laughing by coughing or clearing their throats-- feels the same regardless of the method and tactic they use! All I can hope is that at some point in their lives when something happens TO them or to someone they care about, that impairs their mobility in any way that they have their own ignorance measured back to them.

Cast off from society, from life… From love… Not wanting to face another moment cast aside along the debris of the gutters and forced to contend with the ugliness of humanity. Reminding yourself to remember to breathe-- something that comes so naturally to most becomes a chore when you’re on the streets. Discouragement flows through the flood-gates from the endless rivers of disappointments coming to you from all directions and from every avenue—

Being continually denied assistance, employment, nourishment to the heart, soul as well as to the body. It takes courage to keep pushing forward, breathe and endure another day trying to find the slightest crack where a little hope may yet reside, looking for any sign that your efforts aren’t in vain. It becomes a race to not let discouragement take the reins and release your grip , allowing it to fully take over.

It takes courage to breathe in the absence of love, it takes courage to breathe when your presence is an unwelcome intruder. People only pretending to care when and how it suits them and then only when it’s comfortable for them to do so.

It takes courage to breathe when your heart is shelled out, then scraped raw like the insides of a melon-- people believing one could turn off their hearts like a faucet, turn love on and off as it suits them-- not realizing the devastation left in their wake-- pretending to love you one minute then turn into someone you no longer know as they hit you with such open hostility for opening your heart and allowing them access to the precious parts within, taking hold of it, mutilating it, then rip it from your chest, eliminating it from their lives.

By Renee Bowen

Homeless Since Sept. 1, 2000

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