In Residence on the Streets.... Thanskgiving 2018

Thanksgiving.... 2018

In Residence of Life on the Streets

Once more, the Holidays are settling upon us and the end of the year is

closing in quick. Another year of life on the streets, and another Holiday Season

underway, and experienced again, on the streets. Another gathering of a good

stack of books from the library in preparation for reading through the Holidays.

When you live your life on the streets, Holidays take on different meaning.

Usually, they are just another day in the life on the streets, with the exception

of having a more challenging time finding places to cleanup, since more

places are closed, and more often than not, parks that have a restroom, are closed.

Not the parks themselves, but usually the restroom remains locked.

So cleanup is generally taken place at drinking fountains, if the fountains

have not been turned off for the season. But living on the streets,

you learn to adapt to circumstances well beyond and out of your control.

And you learn how to navigate the choppy waters of life on the streets. You

become an expert at adapting, through constant change and the forever

unknown in every moment of the day and night.

But when it comes to Holidays, it can be at times, some of the Best times

you experience, and at the same time, some of the Worst times imaginable.

Balancing the two is never an easy task. The feelings of abandonment

tend to flood through your thoughts, as memory brings back snippets of

Holidays past.... sometimes good, heartfelt feeling emerge, and then some not

so good, that bring you down the rabbit hole. This year has brought a mix

of everything. But overall, this has been one of the

worst years I have experienced.

The assault of searing, burning pain ripping through my body at every moment,

continues to increase and takes my focus away from anything else, and it is interfering

with life, my life, in every regard. What I can do, where I can go is greatly

being hindered by the never-ending pain and discomfort that has always been my life.

Been wondering my whole life when the “Healing” that is supposed to be so

natural and so ready to heal is finally going to kick into gear and begin.

Because it is not working, much like this body I was received in.

Pain makes it all but impossible to really enjoy life.

And unfortunately, pain has been my life's companion since before I was born.

I have much to be grateful for, though.... and I write everyday little things I am

grateful for along the way. But sometimes finding things to be grateful for

when you live 24/7 without a home, and all the challenges faced while living

on the streets, adding to that all the physical stuff I have to contend with,

especially this year that has hit extremely hard, makes it hard to be grateful.

But I am grateful to have slight respites of the onslaught of pain... where at times,

it finally lessens and eases up on the stronghold it has on me, ever so slightly, allowing me a

little breathing room, before it hits harder and takes my breath away, once more.

More things I am grateful for;

– I am grateful I am kept safe through the night, and alerted by the animals
around me when something or someone is making trouble.

– I am grateful to have the means to sometimes cook my own meals,
which makes a tremendous difference on my health.

– I am grateful animals find me as non-threatening and allowing me to stay

in their homes with them. And that they are drawn to me. Because my

feathered and furry friends nourish my heart and soul in ways that

keep me taking another step forward, giving meaning to my days.

– I am grateful to be able to read and write, and both have become like air to me.

– I am grateful to have clothes to wear, and sometimes the means to wash

my clothes at the laundry mat instead of by hand in the sinks.

– I am grateful to have soap to use to stay clean.
– I am grateful for the great thermos I have that keeps hot water and
coffee hot for several hours.

– I am grateful for the hand warmers, and emergency blankets that

keep me warm through the coldest nights.

– I am grateful I can wash my hair in the sink, albeit

in icy cold water.

– I am grateful to have water to drink and the containers to

keep it fresh and safe.

– I am grateful there are libraries around and I am able to utilize them fully.

So there is many things and much to be grateful for,

even when you live on the streets.

Taking the time to recall and reflect on all you have to be

grateful for, you find more to be grateful for.

This Holiday Season is my 19^th one on the streets... each one turning more

and more into a mirror of the ones before. Carbon copies of Holidays Past.

At times, the one thing that changes, is the weather.

Thanksgiving on the Streets.. Just another day in the life.

Battle Scars of Life...

Battle Scars of Life....Living on the streets

Living on the Streets... Gives you battle scars for life.

Life cannot be lived in hate, but only simmered in anger. To truly live in Life,

requires love. But more and more I am finding love.. is something that is in

rare supply when life is lived on the streets. And well into decades of life, or

rather the merest existence of a semblance of life,

on the streets has turned life dark.

The longer I am forced to stew and simmer without the comforts,

safety and warmth of a real home, the darker life has become.

Shadows all I do. And Overshadows every breath I take, every step I take.

Your life is wiped from the system in every meaningful way,

you no longer exist as a living, feeling, breathing human being,

and your basic Human Rights have been brutally torn to shreds.

You are denied your right to Vote when you do not have a verifiable residence;

denied your right to be a citizen in the country you were born into

when you have no home; receiving any and all mail becomes a challenge,

especially when you have to rely solely on the Post Office to hold your mail,

which they toss most of it in the trash, or stamp on it “Refused, Return to Sender”,

without your consent for doing so, as you cannot refuse

something that you never receive.

Life goes dark when you live every moment of your life on the street,

and the light at the end of the tunnel has gone out completely.

Your mind blanks out, and you watch the moments passing you by,

ignoring your presence. You become part of the scenery,

no longer viewed, seen or treated as a person.

The reserves of Hope, Faith and Love that once housed residence

in your heart has become depleted and dry.

Living on the streets, scars you in ways that can never be healed.

They are Permanent and comes through with everything you do.

There is no separation from who you are and life on the streets now,

because life on the streets has become who you are in every regard.

Every breath, every thought, every move revolves around living and breathing

every moment on the street. Dreams.... about life on the street, cleanup... about

life on the street, eating.... about life on the street, sleeping.... about life on the street.

Everything in life has become about life on the street. Every word, thought, deed....

all about life on the street. I can no longer recall what life in a home feels like.

I can no longer recall how it feels to take a shower, having hot water to cleanup in,

cooking in a real kitchen, sleeping on a real bed... or just being able to simply BE.

What would it be like to finally do all I need to in the privacy of my own home??

Things like cleaning up, eating, sleeping.... anything and everything that has

been on the world's movie screen for nearly 2 decades now. What a treasured

blessing that would be.... to FINALLY have the tiniest bit of privacy to do my

most private things that have been fully on public display for nearly half my life.

That is truly one of the dear things I miss completely.... having some form of privacy,

when cleaning up, eating, and sleeping, or doing anything. Because everything I do,

and I do mean ABSOLUTELY everything, has been on public display, every day,

all night long. No matter where I go, no matter what I do.

I cannot even begin to even partially describe what that is like, what it does

to your heart and soul.... and more importantly, what it does to you as a person.

It is truly devastating and alters your life in ways you could

never imagine, and not in good ways.

Days completely disappear and all days become a single day, that never ends.

Dates and days themselves lose meaning. How do you measure time,

when there is no time to measure? You have no one in your life who cares

whether you live, or die, or how you day has been. No one to let you know

you matter and make a difference just by being here. No one

but the cops ever “check” on you.

Perhaps that is why most living on the streets have turned to drugs

and alcohol, smoking and so much more, to help blunt the sharp edges

of life on the streets. Because living without a home, without any meaning

or purpose, and just merely existing around the far periphery of society,

rips you open and sucks you dry. You can only think about where to go next,

what, where and how you will eat, or when. Is it safe to bed down

here for a while? Living on the streets is no way to live.

But it is something I have been forced to do for nearly 2 solid decades.

My life was taken from me the moment that despicable landlord forced me out,

by and through his illegal actions because I refused to service him.

And nothing but doors slammed hard in my face telling me

“I do not qualify” for assistance.

Yeah, a real Meaningful Existence.

Residence on the Streets....18 Years

Residence…. On the Streets

18 Years and counting….

~September 1, 2018~

Life on the streets…. Just the mere thought of life on the streets, living

without a home brings a plethora of images; unwelcome at best, and are

more like uninvited guests that refuse to leave. When you live on the streets,

you witness and experience things that most people will never see, experience or

encounter in any way, shape or form, or on any level. Living on the streets

means you see everything about humanity…. The absolute worst of humanity;

the undersides if you will, the undersides of life; and some of the

best people you will ever encounter; From one side of the

spectrum to the other; the Good, the Bad, and

absolutely EVERYTHING in between.

This marks my 18^th year anniversary of living on the Streets, heading

into my 19^th Holiday Season on the streets, living without a home.

18 Years ago on this day, my life veered sharply off course and thrown

into the rough, choppy waters of life without a home as a

direct result of the illegal actions of a despicable

landlord all because I refused to “service” him.

There never should have been a single anniversary to contend with,

much less years and years of anniversaries like this.

When you live outside, 24/7, you are given a LOT of labels, none of which

are kind or loving, and assumptions and judgments are immediate and swift.

None of which are fact-based, but based solely on others’ opinions of what

they believe to be the case without ever knowing what it is they are

conjecturing, talking about or assuming. They don’t bother with the truth.

The things that are affected the most when you are forced to live on

the streets, without a home are eating and sleeping. Never knowing

when either will happen, where or for how long. It takes a hard toll on

your body and health in every way. They say “everything” happens

for a reason. But what is the reason forcing me to live every moment

of my life without a home, on the streets because I do not qualify for

the so-called assistance that are only there if you meet the stringent

requirements of addiction to drugs, alcohol, chemical dependencies, have

dependent children, are a senior citizen or are an illegal immigrant?

So my hands are in the air. I no longer know where to turn.

Where do you go when you have no place to go and the

system for “helping” is of no help at all, while it denies

and refuses you the assistance needed?

One of the hardest questions to answer when you are homeless is when

someone asks, “Where do you live?”. Because the answer is “I don’t”.

There is no home, no place to go. I don’t “live” anywhere…. But merely

exist all over, nowhere, anywhere and everywhere. How do you answer that?

Then they always follow with, “You have to live somewhere”. No, no you don’t.

When you have no place to live in any sense of the word, there is no

place to live. Being bounced around from one place to the next just

for being present. One city to the next, because you have no home,

and cops insisting your presence without a home, is illegal, while

informing you of their illegal and unconstitutional “City Ordinances”

for Homeless “Residents”.  Making it a crime to have no home,

regardless of the reasons why, it is irrelevant to them.

Answering “Where do you live?” generally begets an extended silence….

Before I choose to say anything. And of course, it depends on who is asking,

and why. But when there is no home, and you have no place to go, but

stay everywhere…. You have no residence and do not reside anywhere for more

than a night, or two… sometimes a little longer. Life is lived on the

move, 24/7, around the periphery of society, of Humanity.

Forced to live over there, not here… keep moving, not this place,

or this one. Becomes the draining reality of life…. Without a home,

without a residence…. And without a LIFE that matters to anyone.

Your life is stripped of everything and only the slightest residue of what

had been there is all but erased. And any vestiges of HOME….

Are only in your dreams, if even then.

Life without meaning… without purpose, becomes a life without end

and gives no reason for being. And yet, life continues on, regardless.

Hope, Faith, Love…. Become concepts of thought, that are no longer

present in life when that life is lived on the streets. Words…. Can do so much;

give a glimmer of Hope, keep you in Faith, and lift your spirits, fill you

with Joy, Fill you with Love… letting you know you matter, and words

can be used as lethal weapons that destroy and kill.

And when your life is lived on the streets,

you receive more of the latter than anything else.

Decades have been consumed on and by the streets…. Lifetimes, gone.

Watching my life… and every day thereof, being swallowed whole.

Living on the streets… turns your life inside-out, and upside down, as though

your life was dumped into a blender and set on high, then forgotten about.

Life without a home, without a residence… living outside, day-in, day-out,

every single day of the year, year after endless year Wrenches your heart and

soul as it squeezes and twists every last breath from

your lungs. Your days become a monotone of existence of more of the

same. A copy of the same photo multiplied a million fold,

and set on repeat. Becoming a Hallowed out version of a

partial apparition of a person.

Another Anniversary, and day and another year in the life of

the homeless. Set adrift on the sea to a life of nothing

and nowhere… but everywhere and anywhere.

Birthday Dreams...

Birthday Dreams…

My birthday dream, wish, hope and prayer for today….

Is something I will never have in my life…

My 17^th birthday spent on the streets…. Coming into my 18^th Anniversary of

having to live on the streets, and heading into my 19^th Holiday Season 

without a home. People have been born and already completed 

high school in the lifetimes I have been forced to live life on the streets.

Not a place anyone should have to spend their lives,

much less their birthdays. Or any Holidays, for that matter.

Being cast to the side, sidelined from the mainstreams of life.

A day that really should never have come about, in any sense of 

the word.  Life takes cruel turns and sharp veers off the roads…..

and drops you from any semblance that life once held.

I never imagined that life, my life, would be halted indefinitely, 

forced to live on the streets that all started by and through the 

illegal actions of a landlord, and perpetuated by the cruel system 

that claims to offer their so-called “help”, but only if you fit the 

extremely narrow confines of the requirements; 

have the life destroying habits of 

- cigarettes, 

- alcohol,

- chemical dependencies,

- or have dependent children,

- be an illegal immigrant,

- or be a senior citizen.

When you are clean, nothing in the form of any assistance exists.

My life being removed right before my very eyes….

My Birthday Wish…. My Birthday Hope….My Birthday Prayer…

is to feel amazing, be pain free, and live in the privacy of my own home.

Have the privacy to use a real bathroom for all I need to do, instead of 

being on full display every moment of the day and all through the night…

have a real kitchen to cook, prepare and store foods,

have a real bed to sleep in and finally get the rest my body has been

deprived of for decades. And just BE without having the cops

called on me for just being present, or being harassed

for not having a home to go to.

Decades of my life have been removed and discarded.

Those years cannot be restored or replaced.

And not ones I want to remember.

So Happy Birthday to me, again……

Another one without a home and alone.

A life that is becoming more wasted and withered with

each passing moment having to spend it outside.

Life atrophying with each breath…like a decaying residue.

Happy Birthday!!!

Whispers of Hope...

~ Whispers of Hope ~

That's what you find when you're on the streets that come through in the little

things that make an incredible difference -- A warm embrace, a gentle touch,

a kind word – these are the Whispers of Hope embedded deep within the heart,

something that can only be given, truly given straight from the heart,

making a world of difference in your life.

There is always an upside to everything, regardless of circumstance – including

being homeless and having to live year after endless year on the streets.

Being out here has brought to my life some of the most remarkable people I

have been blessed to know, whom I otherwise would not have had the pleasure of meeting if I were not homeless and forced to live out here. Those out here on

the streets, as well as though rare few who are not who have brought such

beautiful gifts of love, warmth, and humanity with a glimmer of HOPE

to my heart and my life. Enriching my heart on the deepest level at the

very core of my being...

The negative aspects of being on the streets are endless and weigh heavily

on your heart and soul, and would consume me whole, if I let it. That's why I

do my best to shift that focus onto more positive things, which at times truly

becomes a treasure hunt in the truest sense of the word. Those Whispers of Hope

are what keeps me going, pushing forward and sustaining me. Keeping it close

to your heart so you can call it forth when it's really needed.

When you are homeless, sometimes the physical fact of that circumstance

overshadows everything else around you, including the blessings that are generally disguised as something else so you don't always recognize them for what they are.

Every morning, I pull out a little journal and pen some Gratitude pages.

More often than not, that first stroke of my pen is so difficult,

trying to find something, anything, to really be Grateful for. Sometimes,

I have to look all around me to come up with even a few, but I do,

each and every day find something, many things, actually, to be grateful for.

Every morning, and most evenings, I have a front row seat for the

starts and ends to each day. Being witness to the sunrises, when it is not

overcast or raining, and the sunsets each evening. The songs of the

birds all around me, all the animals that share my space

and allow me to share in theirs.

My Gratitude list grows each and every day.... but it doesn't go down or diminish.

There are days that being Grateful is really hard,

especially with the forced circumstance I was put in and

everything I have to contend with.

But there is not a day that goes by that I fail to count the blessings in my life.