Thanksgiving....alone on the streets, again and again.

Another Holiday Season is upon us..... another one spent on the streets, alone.  Spending another Holiday Season in the park, with a stack of books.  Thanksgiving was spent in the quiet park....My only company, aside from my furry and feathered friends, are the cops, harassing me for just being present.  Never once have they questioned anyone else around me, "requesting" their ID's, then perpetually running their information, time and time and time again, for the zillionth time, just for being present.  But they have zeroed in on me, for nearly 2 solid decades.  Never once just letting me be.  It isn't right.  And then they wonder why those of us out here, have no respect for them.  So, another Holiday Season is here, making this my 16th one to endure on the streets.  Wondering why I bother.  This is not a life......   but barely an existence. 

My heart feels heavier in my chest.  And the days become, or rather have already become, just one long season, where nothing changes, but then everything does.   The endless days, and then endless nights, are nothing I look forward to, but rather, another day closer to this punishing life sentence finally coming to an end.   Holidays are harder to deal with on the streets, only in the sense that not only is there no one to share them with, but every place is closed, making it more of a challenge to do anything, like clean up for the day, or change. 

When life, your life, has no meaning or purpose, is there really a point in being present?   When your life matters to no one, what is the point?   You find yourself just going through the motions, where everyday mirrors the last, then the one before that, and after that.....Holidays  mean absolutely nothing anymore.   Just another day of enduring the streets, in the barest sense.  

Becoming Citizens of Life, Residents of Nowhere..... the very moment you are forced to live your life, or the remainder thereof, on the streets.  Where the protection under the law and justice are no longer in effect to you when you have no physical residence to call H O M E.  You come to realize some truly unjust things about the "Protection under the Law and Justice for all its Citizens", when your life is conformed to the streets.

That protection doesn't exist or extend to you when those precious walls and roof are taken from you.  And you find Justice is nothing but mere words, holding no substance.   Nothing is taken seriously when you are on the streets; such as when you need to report an assault, theft, muggings....and the like.   Reports are thrown away, charges dismissed or never filed to begin with, your integrity is always suspect, and flip remarks are directed right in your face with "what do you expect, putting yourself out there like that?".   Regardless of how you came to be on the streets, such as through and by the illegal activities and actions of a despicable landlord, where you had no control over what happened.  

Even when a respected person in the community with clout, takes you to file a report, you are booted from the room, so they can question your integrity.  Only to toss out the report because of your given circumstance.   Protection under the Law and Justice for all, becomes nothing more than a cruel joke when life is on the streets.  

An Anniversary that never should have been...

September 1, 2015 marked an anniversary that never should have been, and should not have even seen a single one come about, much less the 15 I have now endured being forced to live on the streets.  I cannot begin to describe what being out here for so long does to a person.  Experiencing the absolute worst of life, and the deepest underside of Humanity; that has been less than HUMAN toward me than you could imagine, in its many brutal and cruel forms, all because of a circumstance I never chose, but have been forced to endure, from and by the illegal actions of a despicable landlord in the city of Alameda.

Being readily refused and repeatedly turned away for the service and assistance that I need, finding myself going in circles, trying to find a semblance of the "so-called help" that is supposed to be so readily available.  Not something I have ever experienced.  All of the places that are supposed to offer the help and support they purport, is nothing but a cruel joke, and has caused more harm than anything else.  Where the staff in these horrible places referred to as "Shelters", who are the worst offenders, cause harm to your person, becoming extremely abusive, both verbally abusive and physically violent with you and toward you, only causes more damage, in the truest sense, but offer no help at all.

I've been repeatedly told that I have been out here too long to receive the services offered.  That the services are only there for the ones who are on the brink of becoming homeless, or ones who have immediately become homeless.  Even churches and emergency centers that I was told to contact, have barred my number with the text message across the screen, "This number is for EMERGENCY CALLS ONLY", when I have contacted them to see what services they offer.  Apparently, being forced to live on the streets for more than a decade and a half is not viewed as an "Emergency". 

The programs in place now, were nowhere around when I was forced out to the streets, but continue to deny me the help I need because I do not fit the parameters for who they will help, and when.  So countless doors are slammed shut in my face at every turn. 

So another year has gone by, as so many before, and the chasm only widens, becoming so huge, you can no longer tell where it began, but pretty sure you know where it ends.  I never chose to be forced from my home all because I refused to "Service" a horrible landlord-- SO, I was forced out, illegally, and given the worst life sentence in the process, for just being present.  A very punishing life sentence, that is wholly consuming, and one that tears you to shreds, time and again.  Your life becoming nothing, as your presence is no longer welcome.  Discarded to the wayside quicker than trash.

So where do you turn when there is nowhere to turn?  The echoes of life growing dimmer with each passing moment spent out here by another's actions.

Faith, hope, and love are no longer apart of my life.... no longer exist, the last spark of which have long since evaporated..  They are just vestiges of a former life that no longer holds any meaning when your life is on the streets.  And September 1st marked my continuing life sentence imposed on me when I was forced out to the streets 15+ years now, to live, or rather, merely exist around the periphery of Humanity, of Society....of LIFE. 

As this will be my 16th Holiday and Winter Season on the streets, days hold no meaning, life.... no purpose.  And no matter what I do or where I go, help is nowhere to be found, especially not when you are clean, are not chemically dependent, have never done drugs, never drank, don't smoke, or their brand of CrAzY.

I wonder time and again, why I was ever born.  Is this all my life is supposed to be for????   To be on the receiving end of Humanities' Ugliness, year after year?  Has my life ever mattered?  I get the answers in the long stretch of nothing-ness that my life is now, living on the streets.  Every Birthday, Holiday, or any other day of the year, spent alone, and unwelcome wherever I go.  So why am I here?

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.

14 Years Seems only the Beginning....

Labor Day, September 1, 2014, of this year marked my 14th Year Anniversary of 

being on the streets, making this Holiday and Winter Season my 15th year to endure 

out here.  Seems like a lifetime and beyond since that beautiful luxury of a home 

was a part of my life...   Days wear on you, while nights cling tighter like a shawl 

around your shoulders.  Time loses meaning when you are out here.  Days blending 

and blurring into one long continuous length of time, nights repeating themselves 

on a loop, like a broken record that gets caught in a groove.  Wearing on you, 

weighing on you, yet continue to push forward.  I often wonder what keeps 

pushing me forward, to what end, really.   Caught in a vicious catch-22.  

And the cycle continues...

Priorities on the streets changes in every facet.  Surviving becomes an essential asset.  

Learning what truly matters in the most deepest sense.  Life takes on a whole new 

meaning on the streets, and finding some way to fill even partially the most

 basic needs... food, water, shelter, clothing.  Sometimes, there is food, water is 

easier to find, in the way of drinking water, though finding the water to clean up 

brings a slew of other challenges to the forefront, not to mention a place or rather 

places, where the actual clean up takes place.  Clothing is probably the easiest to 

come by, as donations are abundant in that regard, however ill fitting the clothes 

may be, you can always find something to wear.  As for shelter, that is something 

entirely different, and one of the most, if not the most, challenging of all.

My thermos has served me quite well, and continues to be the best thing I have 

while having to endure this lifetime out here.   No more illusions of a home, as those 

have long since been cast to the wayside.  How would I list landlords, when it was by 

and through the illegal actions of a landlord that put me out here in the first place??  

How would I get references?  Been repeatedly denied my credit reports, because I do 

not have phone bills and utilities listed in my name that goes to a physical address.  

Though, I am charged by others accessing my information, regardless of how erroneous 

it is, yet, I have been denied access to my own information.  Even using various 

organization letter heads, along with SSI statements, all to no avail.  Not to mention

 all the costs and fees involved, background check, credit check, application fees, 

first, last, and security...   oh, let the games begin. 

There continues to be a core set of people insisting I must be out here by choice, after all, 

they claim there is so much "help" available to those who need it.  Something I have 

never, not once, found to be true, in any regard.  And not a single person who has said 

this to me has ever come with me on any part of this journey...   and not a single one 

would be able to manage a single night, much less the 

endless years that I have been forced to. 

Facing another anniversary of being on the streets is an anniversary I truly wish I 

never had to experience even once, much less the 14 I have now faced and fully 

experienced, in more ways than I could ever convey in any capacity.

Meditation still permeates my mornings, helping me to face the day and night ahead. 

While Nature's Beautiful furry and feathered friends are my co-conspirators and 

closest confidants, as we share our time together through the night and into the 

mornings....  they bring a lightness to my heart and keep me going and 

putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward, to 

wherever the road may lead.

Writing continues to be my drug of choice, along with the volumes of books I go 

through all the time.   Keeps me connected and involved...no matter where I am, 

I always have a notebook at the ready, and more often than not, a few books, too.

Winter's Dream....2014

We all have dreams.  One of the most pressing dreams I have had for the past 14 Winters now, is that of a real home, a place where I can just BE, and B R E A T H E, and relax, no cares or worries abounding, just being for the sake of being...   a Dream that has yet to happen, as I endure my 14th Winter on the streets.  Nature and her beautiful furry and feathered friends have been my lifelines, in more ways than I could ever fully, or even partially, convey... their presence in my life has kept me afloat.  A dream that I will not likely to see come to fruition.  The "programs" in place are only geared for those who have become immediately homeless, not for ones who have been out so long to live lifetimes outside, and caught between a catch-22, in the deepest sense.  Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like if I had acquired one of the life-destroying 'habits' that so many out here have taken to, the majority of which is why they have become homeless.  It is generally not something started while out here, but rather something in place long before the direction of their lives shifted into the shiftless realm, yet, they are the ones all these programs are meant and designed for....    the ones who want to destroy themselves.  Having a place to finally be able to store and prepare foods, have regular, healthy meals every day, throughout the day...   ready access to hot showers, a luxurious dream that takes hold especially as the temperatures drop to freezing or below through the night and deep set into the morning hours before it starts warming up as the sun settles in for the brief duration of daylight; my own bed where I can finally get the much needed, yet readily deprived of, rest my body has been denied for a lifetime and beyond...  these are just a few of my Dreams.  But Dreams that are in my thoughts, whether it be day or night, they are always present.  But they are just that, Dreams.....    A Winter's Dream.

Thanksgiving 2013....

My 14th Thanksgiving and Holiday Season and winter being forced to live, breathe, and exist, in whatever capacity that may be, on the streets....   Though there are so many things I am truly grateful for, and thankful to have, to be, and so much more, being forced to live on the streets, year after endless year, takes so much away from you, in every regard.  Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually.. the heavy, deep toll it takes on you heart, body, mind and soul....   the very essence of your being.  I still find myself longing for a home, a real home where I can fully just BE...    having a place to prepare and store foods, cooking real food and being able to eat with regularity, being able to bathe in my OWN bathroom, where all the private details of my life are not fully displayed, time and again, out on the huge screen of society; having an actual bed to sleep in, and get the much needed, yet deprived rest my body needs.   Everything I do, everywhere I go, whatever I do or have done to try changing things, have not been successful, and ends up pulling me further down into an abyss that has no end....    then being met with sharper and sharper ridicule and criticism for being out here.  Turning me more away from life, and people, than pulling me toward it.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be spent around people who care about you, and you them... yet, once again, I find myself alone, on the streets, every placed closed and no place to be, or go.  Spending another Thanksgiving in the park, reading.  Never once being invited anywhere, to join anyone in giving thanks, or the nourishing foods that will soon be enjoyed...   I often wonder what it would be like, what it would feel like to actually be included to be part of something, instead of cast to the wayside like a piece of trash.

This is not a time of year I look forward to, especially when you have no one around to share your day or thoughts with.  It brings new meaning to thanksgiving...  

Ceasing to Exist

~ Ceasing to Exist ~

Becoming more and more a fixture with nature, than with the human counterparts. 

Falling by the wayside... The very moment I was forced out on the brutal streets by 

and through the illegal actions of a despicable landlord in the City of Alameda, 

because I refused to “service him”. Not only was my life halted, but in a very real 

sense, I ceased to exist-- to society, to being a resident of everywhere, a 

citizen of nowhere.. and in a very real way, died a thousands deaths from that 

moment. And the endless lifetimes since then. I truly ceased to exist. People readily 

discarded my friendship, turn away from me-- and made it crystal clear my presence is

 nothing but a harsh nuisance in their lives, something they barely tolerate, if 

even that. You are shown the most inhospitable forms of people's true nature, what 

they are truly capable of, in their lowest form. I hate being present anymore. 

The deliberate cruelty, the ugly words, behaviors your subject to day and night, 

regardless of where you are. Nothing but complete silence from those who professed 

to care. Yet, their silence speaks volumes beyond that. Telling me no 

one gives a damn. Never really has.

I haven't stopped living, just let go... resigning myself to the facts of life. And feeling 

the reality, more and more. It has settled deep into my bones, through ever fiber from 

my being. My life came to a stop the moment I was forced out here, filling my time 

as best I could by volunteering for years on end.. only to have some bus driver 

accusing me of “stalking her”, because she would see me on various lines. She literally 

took different lines/runs just to get away from me, then gets outraged when she sees 

me along her 'new' run, where I was waiting for a different bus, not hers, and she 

pulls right in front of me, where I am waiting for my bus, demanding to know 

“why are you here, why are you here, do you have an appointment?, 

Why are you here, dammit”, then closing her doors and 

pulling further up to where her stop was.

So I have stopped volunteering, at least for the time being, and been keeping 

more and more to myself. Keeping my closest friends with me 24/7, my pen and 

notebook, then invite my other friends into my days, books of every genre, allowing 

me to travel all over the world, experience new cultures and a nice reprieve from 

this oppressive thing called life and the reality that follows. Something I no longer 

wish to be part of. When people say right next to you how they can't stand you and 

want nothing to do with you. Spreading rumors about you based on their opinions and 

not on fact, all their friends treat you the same, without ever finding out if what 

they are hearing is true, in any form. They don't care. They don't even know you, 

have never spoken to you, but perceive you as this type of person because their 

friend doesn't like you, for whatever reason. Disheartening, in the truest sense.

And the thing that really bites, this is one of the individuals claiming to “care” about me, 

and that “we were friends”. Really? This is how she treats a friend? Certainly not the 

definition that came to my mind. She would always have a look of such disgust on her 

face whenever she saw me. I once asked her about it, her response was to tell me to 

never contact her again, to get the hell out of her life, to just disappear 

indefinitely. Yeah, a true friend there.

So I know my death would be as unacknowledged as my life has been. My life-- my 

entire life has been more of an unwelcome intrusion than anything remotely 

close to being accepted or even celebrated, in any regard.

Died many times over since being forced out here, the essence of your life 

draining further and further away with each passing tick of the clock.

Other drivers following her lead, treating me like a leper instead of a human being, 

so I no longer take the bus like I had been, stopped relying on it to do what I need to. 

If I am not able to walk where I need to, or where I need to go, then I usually do not go.

I haven't given up, but merely existing, or rather subsistence, isn't life, isn't a life... 

when you have nowhere, no where to go, but not allowed where you are-- what do 

you do??? Life takes on a whole new meaning when you are forced to live 

it on the streets-- existence, survival, hunger-- in the truest, deepest sense, that 

goes much deeper and far beyond that of mere sustenance from food, 

you hunger for life, for love, for meaning-- wondering if any of it really exists, 

or if that is just another illusion life presents to you.

Never knowing if, or when or even what you'll be eating. Life takes you on such a 

harsh new reality and a completely different meaning... having to live your life 

for so long on the streets. All the textures, meaning, context-- it is all different. 

Having to live your life under the shadows of society, living on the underside 

of humanity-- How do you keep hope alive? Faith and so much more? Where does 

it come from, time and again.... where do you go, where do you look. How do you 

keep something that fades further and further into the distance, becoming more a 

part of the landscape, than anything else, disappearing 

more with each passing moment.

How is a meaningful life determined? I've never found true meaning or purpose in mine-- 

it's always felt more of a severe punishment, than anything remotely held of 

meaning and purpose. Echoes of what a meaningful life truly means, not something 

I have felt personally, in any regard. I've immersed myself in various avenues of 

meaning, for me, but not fulfilling. Writing holds meaning-- But is it merely a means 

to an end? And if so, then to what end? How do I bring full meaning to my life? 

Feel complete, whole and healed. Where do you begin, when there is really no 

where to go? And life keeps dumping more and more crap on you to deal with... 

where do you find meaning? And how? And what is the meaning of having to 

live your life on the streets? What is the purpose? And how can my being out 

here help others? Because I do believe everyone should experience what it is like-- 

even for a few days, which will immediately give them a much better understanding 

of the brutal reality that we have to endure, year after endless year.... and all the 

government and state employees should be on the receiving end of their ugly 

service when applying for any kind of service. We would be treated so much 

better if they did. We would actually be seen and treated as people-- just like them. 

That would really revamp the entire structure and finally implement services 

that are for the people, instead of more against us, than anything. And not 

placed in those confining narrow minded categories-- slapping labels on us 

that have never fit. Insisting you have to be a junkie, an alcoholic, crazy as hell, or 

just plain stupid the very moment you are put out here, regardless of how you were 

put out-- legal or not. We would finally be treated with care. Instead of the 

nightmarish hell they currently drag us through for applying for even the 

most dismal of assistance, which is nothing more than a cruel joke.

And something you do your best to avoid. Rarely do you actually get the 

service you need, even less so when you're single, have no dependents and 

have no addictions, and don't do any of that junk, 

or chemically dependent in any way..

just going through the brutality of the system will make you crazy-- just not 

their “preferred” type. And if you tell them you don't appreciate being treated 

so rudely and so horribly, that brings even more ugliness out from them. Much 

longer waits, even more attitude. Things you have been waiting to receive, 

notifications/mail-- mysteriously disappear, then magically 're-appear' after 

the due date for responding has already passed. Just to name a few.

Birthday Greetings from Myself to Myself...

Another Birthday, just another day...   

Yet another birthday spent on the streets, alone.  Just another day, another un-acknowledged presence.  Days repeating themselves, blending together where you can no longer tell where one ends and another begins.  Birthdays, holidays, or any day that holds any special meaning... really lets you know if people truly care or if their words were just that...   words.  Never having these days acknowledged, just dismissed and discarded and turned meaningless, unless you have that precious commodity called a home and are surrounded by people who actually care.   And this tells me that should I die, right here and now, no one would blink twice, much less give it a second thought.

When you are forced to live your life on the streets, all that evaporates...   your very presence, a permanent stain that society cannot wash out, not for the lack of trying, though.  Very brutally and harshly, at that.  Though the mark it leaves on your heart and soul can never be erased, starts to corrode the very essence of you.  Hope slips further away into the background as the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, then endless years tick by-- bringing you to the realization that your presence doesn't matter, has never mattered, and you are not likely to ever see or feel that so much sought after place of being in a H O M E.

September 1, 2013 marks my 13th year anniversary of being forced out onto the streets by and through the illegal actions of a crummy, despicable landlord.  The illusions of ever having a home has faded away...  I wonder why I keep pushing forward... to what end???   Since it has become quite apparent that this is where I'll spend the rest of my days--  merely existing, or rather languishing in obscurity until my existence is completely erased and extinguished out.  

I have never once experienced that love-affair of life that most do, it's never had that pull or draw to me.  Life has truly shown her dark side to me-- experiencing the worst of it.  Still waiting for the coin to flip, get a little glimpse of the other side, the top side.  I hear rumors that it exists ~

This will be my 14th Holiday Season out here.  Just remembering to breathe and wondering why I bother.  I knew life was going to pose some challenges, but to be so very disheartening and devastating every moment of it?  Being "monitored" by the cops, who in turn have set their sites on their target, ME.  Zeroed in on me, time and again.  Citing me just for being present.  Their constant harassment just for not having the luxury of a home.  Followed, like an endless nightmare that never lets go.  Making it that much more challenging to face another day, another night.   Just to face more of the same.

I often wonder what I was brought here to do, what my purpose is, or should have been.  There must be a reason I was put out here, and perhaps that was to be a value to others...   in whatever capacity that may be.  Though, I have no idea what that is.  Perhaps of my telling of my experience out here, they will be able to navigate the harsher waters of being homeless, helping them to wade through the muck and mire of it, knowing they are not the only ones to have gone through the challenges it poses, in all regards.  And be able to lead them through, somehow.  

A New Lease...

A New Lease on life....

Taking out a new lease on life-- had to, as my other lives have all been mortgaged off.  Walking away from something that should have killed me on impact, (yet again), and so much more I have come through in life, taking out more leases that I have lost count.  It's obviously not my time to go, have too much to share with others and the world, sharing my story, or rather my stories, as there have been many.  Even if they only help one other person, the journey will have been well worth the effort (of living through them and continuing to breathe), and make a difference to us both.  Perhaps that is my purpose here, in this life-- to share my journey, the experiences and multiple varied chapters.

A new chapter begins with that new lease as I begin the redecorating of my life...  redecorating every facet, changing the color schemes and wall papers of thought, discarding old, broken furniture.  Restoring the heart-values, the keep sakes that bring value to us and things we share with others-- the things that truly matter.  

At times, it's as though life itself is trying to destroy me, but I am not finished here.  The real journey has only just begun...

12 Years...

12 Years now....   

Today marks my 12th year anniversary of being homeless and having to live on the streets, in the truest sense,  and this will be my 13th holiday season coming up out here.  It doesn't get any easier, the longer you are out here, in fact, it gets much harder to face another day.  Remembering just to breathe and then wondering why I do.  This has been a very difficult year to endure on so many levels.  And yesterday I walked away from something that should have killed me when it happened.   Changed the course of everything.  It is obviously not my time to go, but wondering, time and again, why am I here?   To serve what purpose?  The questions keep piling up, yet the answers are nowhere in sight.  I have come through the worst life has to offer, and still keep coming back for more.  It's like I have become, or rather was already born, as the human waste depository and repository for all the bad crap.  You get more dumped on you, when your residence status has changed, than anything else.  How do you move forward when you have no place to go and no one to turn to?  I have fallen through all the cracks, crevices and chasms of the system and feels like I'm just being erased further with each moment that passes.