Thanksgiving 2016

Thanksgiving on the Streets....

Another Fall Day on the streets. 

Thanksgiving Day once more on the streets...
making this my 17th one without a home....and still outside.

When you live on the streets without the comforts a home affords,

 not to mention the warmth and safety; it becomes 

just another day, only more challenging with it being 

a Holiday, and finding places to clean up or use the restroom,

 turn into adventures unto themselves.  

It's a mixed blessing to still be alive and breathing on this day.  

Facing another day on the streets is never an easy task,

 and the longer I am forced to be out here, merely existing

 along the periphery of life, the more it puts a heaviness

 on my heart, the weight of which brings you

 to depths that have no end.

How does one live a life filled with Joy, Love, Excitement, 

and Happiness, when 

these things have never existed to be begin with in their life?

How do you live a life of meaning, have your life filled with purpose,

 when your very existence is barely tolerated, but not allowed

 to be present wherever you are?

A million questions fill my thoughts, my heart....

And still no answers.

I have seen and experienced the worst of life, 

the worst of humanity, as they have repeatedly shown me 

the underside of any good....

There isn't any rude comment, ignorant remark,

 horrible action that I have not been 

subjected to a million times over. 

 I know what true Hell is. 

 I have lived it since birth.

Lived in it, Lived through it, 

and continually immersed within it.

Whatever happened to the "Golden Rule".... Do Unto Others, 

As You Would Have Others Do Unto You?  I have never 

treated others in the way they have been toward me, yet they 

feel it necessary to be as mean and cruel as possible to me for just being present. 

 I am not hurting anyone, not doing anything wrong, or illegal.  Just minding my

 own business, and then they are in my business; calling me names, giving me

 nasty, disgusted looks, calling the cops on me....

 just for being present.

Being laughed at, cruelly mocked, made fun of, ridiculed, and criticized for

 moving in a way they find unacceptable and insist cannot be real.  They are 

beyond cruel.  Being accused of "faking" the way my knees buckle and

 fold with every step I take, every moment of the day where I have the

 unfortunate experience of having to be around people at all, no matter where I go.

Is it no wonder that I absolutely dread having to be anywhere where 

people are.  I dread having to go to the store for food,

 or other necessary items, I hate going to the park where people are

 present, as they video tape the way I walk... 

while laughing their asses off as they do so.  I truly despise having to go

 or be anywhere anymore where people are present, knowing that my every 

move is being watched, commented loudly on, and the 

unwelcome audience my walking brings forth. 

 It is not something you ever get used to.  

And it is really turning me off from being 

around people, in any regard.  Knowing all the comments, 

and remarks that ensue with my every movement.

It wears on you in ways you can never imagine when you

 are not the one on the continual receiving end.

So I am truly Thankful that I have not turned into the kind of person who does

 this to others....Tearing others apart through words and actions.  

And I am thankful to have my stack of books and notebook that keep me 

company in the park on this Thanksgiving Day!

Life.... The Residual Aftereffects

  The Residuals of Life on the streets...

Life is becoming more like a residual aftereffect the longer I am forced to merely exist along the seams of humanity.  Though, exist, is really more than I have been allowed. Being on the streets for so long is eclipsing my life before.  It has literally become my life, who I am now, the person I never wanted to become.  Shadows of what life had once been.... becoming darker in colors and texture, no longer feels a part of my life, but rather something that was experienced in dreams, the images blurring more around the edges, becoming softer and fading where the detection of what was there is no longer visible.  

Many events in life shape, challenge, and define the very essence of who we are. Sometimes the defining moments are not ones we recognize when they are happening or when we are in the center of them around us, but usually becomes apparent in the lull between each other and before the next one takes hold.  Those moments transcribe themselves back to us.  Everything becoming more deeply embedded and incorporated within the threads of memory and every fiber of our being that are pieces and fragments of who we become, though doesn't define who we are, just adds to the whole.

My life has been filled and over-flowing with defining moments.... but nothing more so than my life on the streets...

One of the most defining moments in my life has literally become my very existence.....

and that is being forced to live my life on the streets, facing every day and moment on the streets without a home, without a bed, without a kitchen to store, prepare and cook my own meals, without a private restroom to do my personal and private business....  every moment defining and becoming so deeply ingrained, it seeps from my pores.  I can no longer even imagine what a home feels like. What a real bed feels like, what it is like being able to use the restroom in private without a full-on audience to watch the events unfolding as I clean up on the screen in the publics' eye.  My dreams no longer include a home but more of what life is on the streets.  All my dreams revolve about living on the streets, and the doors being slammed in my face time and again from the places that are "supposed" to be there to help.  Yet, not once has the help and assistance they are there to provide ever once been provided.

My life has been stripped bare of substance, sustenance, meaning....  stripped of my basic rights of a human being, my civil liberties, being denied my right to vote, to serve on a jury (yet, continually receive jury notices to appear), because the government insists on requiring a physical residence, and claiming you are not a "resident" of the county, no matter where you reside, when you do not have those coveted walls circled around you that gives the required numbers and names of the place you live.  Every last ounce of even the tiniest shred of privacy, destroyed and removed entirely from my life. So, the defining "moments" have become every single moment I continue to draw breath.  

Life becomes habit forming, a habit that cannot be broken.  A habit that requires endless endurance, while at the same time is so completely draining on so many levels.  Life on the streets is its own reality, and when you get caught in that reality.... it is one that takes hold and refuses to let go.

For nearly 2 solid decades, that hold has tightened like a noose around my neck.  And everywhere I have gone for help, only tightens the noose with increasing efficiency.  

The Worst Decade...

The Worst Decade….

More than halfway through nearly 2 decades on the streets, 

and these last few years have been the worst of my life. 

Along with all the physical stuff I have to contend with throughout my

 life due to the actions from others; the debilitating pain

 that coarses (intended spelling, as in rough, not fluid) through 

my body at every moment, the deep ache in my arms from the 

shoulders down to my fingers, the way my knees feel like they are

 being severed and continually butchered, the constant fluid build up

 and heavy swelling from just above my knees to the bottoms of my feet, 

which both legs and feet dent and impress upon with any and

 all contact with any material, or even leaning against a table leg, 

a bag or any other structure or material …leaves a deeply bruised 

feeling for days afterward, along with the indents into my legs that remains.... 

(and the perpetual feel of live wires covering my legs)...

Pitted edema, is what the medical community calls the deep swelling 

and fluid build up that is ever present, and prevents my knees from 

bending fully, that cause my legs to buckle and swing from side to 

side as I walk, not to mention all the rest I have to contend 

with every moment of every breath taken …

...now to add insult to injury... The constant deep burning through my chest,

 throat and stomach that feels like scalding liquid being poured down my throat continuously while at the same time, feeling like a flame thrower is being 

shot up from my stomach and then hot coals placed down my chest, and feels like gasoline is being poured non-stop down my throat followed by a lit match.

 Nothing has eased, or soothed the deep pain of the sharp burning, 

the intensity of which is so far off the charts. It started several 

years ago as a direct result of an employee not washing their hands after 

using the restroom and then coming out to prepare food.

I have experienced hundreds of bouts of food poisoning because of the

 ill prepared food by employees who choose not to wash their hands after 

using the restroom. It has happened so much and with such ferocious 

high frequency, it has left a permanent echo of always feeling like my

 insides will purge itself out, turning itself completely inside-out,

 and feeling the purging will erupt at the slightest movement (and has),

 always lingering and never fully leaving me in peace. It has tore up my 

system entirely. Never knowing if what I eat will stay down, or cause trouble.

 Food now, has to be very bland. The only food I have found that

 does not cause any issues, are bananas…. 

But even then, they have to be firm, not overly ripe.

The Wrong Path...

Since birth, my life has been all wrong. More and more of 

the bad has been infused in my life, coming my way with higher 

frequency. The list is growing and increasing, 

and coming closer together. The Universe and Life itself is

 screaming that my life is wrong, that the path I was sent down

 has been in the wrong direction,

 going the wrong way at every turn and bend in the road.

 All the physical things that have been going on with me,

 not only in my life (an over-abundance of assaults, both verbally 

and physically, being run down (quite literally) by people 

running lights and paying no mind to stop signs, accidents 

abounding of every kind (one on top of the other until the 

stones are too high to account for)

 but in my body, as well.

And yet, not once, have I ever been given direction elsewhere...

I have experienced the absolute worst of life…. Time and time and time again.

So, How do I go down a different road, moving in a different direction, 

when there is no support, no assistance of any kind that I have 

been able to find? How do I change course when I am repeatedly 

denied and refused the help I need? Where do I start? Life was 

never meant to be languished on the streets, but that is exactly 

where I have been forced to be for nearly 2 solid decades now. 

How do I find the Healing Path that will be the 

direction I am meant to be on?

So where is this invisible road that I was to take, but is nowhere

 to be seen?  How do I go about finding it? In some kind of parallel universe 

where the portal is hidden between platform 9 and 10.... accessing

 that 9 and 3/4 area has eluded me entirely.

Life....it becomes a habit that you are unable to break.

Yet, there has always been a gross disconnect in life... 
never part of it,but always a part from it.

Fallen by the wayside, time and again...when you are forced to

barely exist around the seams of society, life goes by the wayside,

passing you by and never once being offered a lift along the way.

A lifting hand, a hand UP, not a handout is what I need.

It is what everyone truly needs at one time or another.

But few, if any, ever take the time to offer that simple hand.

And that single hand pulling you up can make a world of difference.

So the direction becomes clearer to me the longer I am forced to be 

out here, and that is offering my hand to lift others' up, and making 

sure they are not going to have to endure the life I have had to.

 Sharing my experience with others, and that begins by helping 

those I come across in my path, along my journey living on the streets.

 Not the path I chose, but one that was chosen for me...

We all need and benefit from a helping hand, but no one benefits

 in any true sense when you are only offered hand-outs.

The direction Life is pushing me toward is starting my own nonprofit 

that offers the help and support that has been so readily denied me. 

Because only someone who has truly experienced life on the streets,

 can know what people living on the streets need, in every regard.

Those of us on the streets, become part of the

 landscape, enmeshed in Nature,

but invisible to Humanity.

The discards of human waste...

16 Solid Years.....Another Anniversary of the Barest Existence

An Anniversary of Lifetimes…..on the Streets

I have experienced many anniversaries in my life….. none of which have 

been much to celebrate.  They have included death in many folds, assaults, 

car accidents, and so much more…..   not including the endless anniversaries 

of seeing first one year, then two, three, and on through a full sixteen years now

 being forced to live, or rather merely exist, on the streets.  Around the edges 

and seams of society.  This is not an anniversary to look forward to …… 

Not one I am looking forward to--  16 years of having no home, no place to store, 

prepare, or cook my meals…. But rather having to fully rely on prepared foods,

 which is quite costly. 

And when you have little means to eat, or even the 

barest of necessities of life…it makes that all but impossible when 

you have to purchase food everyday.   Food prices have increased by such a 

huge amount, it makes it truly impossible to eat with any regularity, 

much less healthily and nourishing.   

Meals consist of whatever you have to eat…. Pieces of bread, a slice of fruit, rarely do 

you actually eat a real meal, in any sense of the word when you live on the street.  

I can literally count on one hand how many real meals I have had in 

the time I have spent on the streets…..    and the thing is, 

when your body is continually deprived of the nutrients and

 food it needs in order to survive and thrive, you find that even a couple 

bites of food makes you overly full and unable 

to eat any more.  Then the other factors that most take for granted…..   

sleeping in real beds, that is not something that you have

 when you live outside, and you cannot sleep whenever 

you need to, but wherever you can, as you are forced 

to “make home” wherever you happen to 

be at any given point. 

 Also, when people think nothing of going into their own bathrooms to 

do their very private business…. That is not something you are afforded outside.  

You have to rely fully on public restrooms, and more often than not, the restrooms are closed.  Instead, you are wide open and in full view of the world.  You have no privacy of 

even the most intimate things you need to take care of.   This poses even more issues when you are female and forced to live outside.  There is so much people take for granted, until that is no longer there.  Your life is not yours to do whatever you want whenever you want when you live on the streets, but rather your life is dictated on what you can do, when and how.  

Life on the streets …. Where does one begin……    your guard is always up, you become 

wary of everyone.  Life becomes one of pure survival…..    co-habitating with nature.   

Every moment of your life being monitored just for being present, and always under a

 full audience, no matter what it is you need to do.   At times, you find people actually 

video-taping you because you move in a manner they find so extremely hilarious.  

When you are physically challenged but move in a way that they don’t like, or accept, 

and is well beyond their comprehension, it’s easier to make fun of and laugh at someone, 

instead of taking the time to understand why they move the way they do (which was by 

and through the direct result of others’ actions against me).   I can only hope and pray 

that at some point they receive their own ignorance measured back to them in full. 

To be on the receiving end of their ugliness that they have 

readily dished out toward me for decades.

Another anniversary living on the streets….  This is my 16^th anniversary of

 being outside, deprived and denied a real home, being repeatedly denied the assistance 

I need and going into my 17^th Holiday and Winter Season.  Living outside indefinitely 

wears on you heavily, and you try finding something, anything, to give you

 something to look forward to. 

Yet, another anniversary that came about yesterday, 8/31, happened 4 years ago 

when I walked away from something that should have killed me on impact.  

Still feel the physical infusion from that impact, but I should not be here…..   

seems my entire life there have been series of just that very thing.   Been through hell, 

dragged through the nightmares, and still pushing forward, to what end???    No idea at all.  

Wishing I knew the reason I am here, to serve what purpose, really….. when there is no 

purpose or meaning in life on the streets.  Nothing of substance …and your presence 

becomes more of an afterthought, than being acknowledged

 as a living, feeling, breathing sentient being…

A Lifetime of endless anniversaries to endure……  

Birthday Echoes.....

Birthday Echoes…..August 2016…

Another birthday come and gone, another one spent on the streets…..August 15, this marks my 15^th Birthday spent without a home, coming into my 16^th Anniversary of being forced from my home by and through the illegal actions of a despicable landlord, and heading into my 17^th Holiday and Winter Season on the streets. This was not a birthday I looked forward to seeing come to pass. None of my birthdays have ever held any special meaning, even less so having to endure yet another one outside. Not something to celebrate. To celebrate means joy and happiness…. I cannot recall ever experiencing either of those at any point in my life, and not at all since being put out here. How do you get excited and filled with joy about life when you are not a welcome part of that life?

Spending your days and nights alone-- no one inviting you anywhere, no one trying to connect in any meaningful way, no one saying “hey, let’s hang out”. You find the world continues to spin….. whether you are in it or not. So birthdays, especially all the ones I have had to endure and spend alone out here, have not been anything I have looked forward to, or gotten excited about. Really, what is the point? When you are denied everything that matters….a life of substance, purpose, and meaning, your mere existence….. birthdays, like Holidays, become just another day to endure. Just another day with no meaning, no substance, nothing of import.

Birthdays become like echoes….. repeating after each other, time and again. And each following the one before…

Vicarious Lives....

Life....on the outskirts of Society. Living life on the seams around the periphery of humanity when you're forced to live every moment of your life on the streets. Watching other people live their lives.... while we are cast to the wayside, not allowed to be involved in life itself....only permitted to watch from the sidelines, as a bystander but not an actual participant. Moments you envy as you experience life through the lens of others' endeavors, activities and involvement. I often wonder what it would be like, what it would feel like to be accepted and welcome in this thing called life. Be a real participant... instead of an audience member that is not allowed to BE. How do you make sense of life.... when you are not allowed to truly live? Is there a rhyme or reason for being other than just being present, where your

presence is not welcome?

Life takes on such a harsh new reality when you live outside,

without the warm, luxury that a home provides.

The textures, the meaning, the contexts.... so very different.

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

Being forced on the streets means an endless life of degradation, inequality and inhumane treatment from those who have that very special luxury called a home...

For the most part, when those who have that luxury called a home find they are dealing with "One of those people" (as those of us on the streets are more often than not referred to in the nicest of terms), their attitudes shift 360˚ and become a re-enactment of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde -- their ugliness pours out uncontrollably. Bringing forth nasty remarks, ignorant, rude, hateful attitudes and violent behaviors -- and they see 'us' as the CraZy ones…

Immigrants are seen as first-class citizens in comparison and given all the bells and whistles, including FULL benefits of housing, warm clothing, Hot-meals, medical and dental coverage, in addition to receiving free money every month just for being an illegal. Yet for those of us who desperately NEED these 'so-called' benefits are not even given the time of day, much less, even acknowledged -- that is, unless you count being brutally de-humanized in the most unimaginable ways as being "acknowledged".

The mentally 'challenged' ones are treated like royalty and given Carte-Blanche.

When you find yourself on the brutal streets, you soon realize you've been given a LIFE SENTENCE-- and that is the stigma of being on the streets. Your life all but ends and is immediately replaced by ever-increasing violent assaults against your person, both physically as well as through their verbiage -- continually directed toward you day-in, day-out.

Secondary Lives... Secondhand Living

Life....

What truly comes to mind when the word Life is mentioned?

Everyone has a different interpretation of the word. Some seem to have

all the tools and manuals for Life.. but to those cast to the wayside of Life....of Humanity, Life becomes a Foreign Language with no interpreter to make sense of any of it. No instructions to be found anywhere…

~ Secondhand Living, Second Edition of Life...~

Life on the Streets... Means;

Living on the periphery of human existence by

Living off and through the cast-offs, throw aways, hand me downs….

Living through the threads of other people's lives, at times, through the barest of threads.

Living in the shadows of other people's lives….. in the shadows of humanity.

Living life second hand, sometimes several generations down. Existing around the edges and periphery of life, society…. But not allowed to be part of it. Even then, barely tolerated. And Even less so when physically challenged and you don't move in the perceived manner set forth by society of what they consider “real” and "acceptable".

Not welcome as part of humanity, of society, but rather almost tolerated. And all the private details of your life, every facet of your existence, from where and when you sleep, use the restroom, bathe, brush your teeth, change clothes, is put up on the public screen for everyone to see, view, comment on, and disregard.

Being on the streets does change you, and not always in the best of ways… you find yourself becoming more hardened on the inside, closing yourself off further and further.

Doing your best to keep distance from people now, actually dreading having to be anywhere

where people are no matter where this may be; the library,

grocery store, retail store, parks…..because of how you are treated and the cruel comments directly

targeted right at you.

You become more withdrawn from life and stay clear of people.

Becoming more and more a piece of the landscape, blending

further with the environment.

~ The Secondhand Life…. Secondhand Living ~

Living on the periphery of humanity, society…..

Discarded lives, tossed to the wayside more like garbage to dispose of, rather than

treated as the living, feeling, breathing beings we actually are, just

because of a change in circumstance.

Having to live your life on the streets changes a person, especially

in the way you are treated by others, and takes a tremendous toll on your life...mentally, physically. Your health is compromised every moment… being exposed to absolutely everything.

Life becomes… mundane and obsolete.

Life....Delegated Elsewhere

Life… Delegated Elsewhere

Living on the streets, you find nothing you do matters (not in the truest sense, anyway)… 

when you go out of your way to help others, in whatever capacity that may be, or taking a breath… 

or not, does not matter. I guess I was always fooling myself thinking otherwise. 

Your life means absolutely nothing when you are delegated to live your 

life on the streets, regardless of how you came to be out here. 

Your every move, your every breath….suspect. 

Your life is delegated elsewhere, just not where it actually matters. Living…. 

What does this truly mean when you merely exist along the seams of humanity, 

but not allowed to be part of it...but always a part from it? Is that what living is 

supposed to be about? You really begin to wonder why you bother to keep 

moving forward, why continue to breathe when Life is Delegated elsewhere. 

Having nothing to look forward to but endless days of more of the 

same….each one repeating like a carbon copy of each one before, and every one thereafter.

When you have no one to share your day with, to share how things are going…. 

Someone to just care, life is truly meaningless. Sure, I volunteer where I can, as often as I can…. 

Which helps to keep me connected and involved, at 

least on some level, but does not fill the empty void left in your heart for a life, 

or rather a mere existence, that is simply not welcome in society.

Aside from the cops, my companions that are always with me, every day, every moment….

 Are notebooks, books, and an array of animals and insects. 

These are what keep me company, day-in, day-out. Meditating in the 

mornings to balance my day and heart with the chaos ahead...

clear out the debris of others’ hurtful words and 

actions toward me. Helps brace for the coming onslaught that is never-ending.

Life becomes rote…. Days repeating and left on auto-pilot as they become routine. 

Each like a carbon copy of the ones before and each one thereafter.

 Living becomes an afterthought while life itself becomes more about survival 

than actual living. And the thing is, as life settles in….it becomes “normal”. 

You actually get used to living, or rather merely existing on the streets,

 living along the edges and perimeter of humanity.

 You find yourself amazed at the speed of which you become “used” to what life brings your way. 

It becomes so common place, you no longer notice it happening, 

or that others don’t experience it similarly. Though I absolutely 

hate being forced to live on the streets, being denied my basic rights, like being

 able to eat real meals, or having a home, or having ready access to showers and hot water…. 

It has become so common place, you quickly adapt to it, 

and life becomes “normal”.

The heat is one of the hardest things and most challenging to deal with on the streets…

.Being outside all day, every day, is like being stuffed in an oven left on high all day. 

You have no access to showers, only the public sinks at the 

park or library, and sometimes grocery stores. 

The rare few places that offered “showers” were nothing but a cruel joke at our expense. 

Giving you a maximum of 5 minutes, total. They did not give you time to clean the gunk and 

debris from all the ones that used it prior, and being physically challenged, 

I was not able to even fully undress before they came pounding on the door 

telling me my time was up….

 My time was up before I ever got the chance to do anything. 

Aside from having no access to showers in the heat, the heat itself is an additional 

weight pressed down on you, which makes it much more challenging to get around, 

breathing is harder and the extensive fluid build up and excessive swelling 

through my knees, legs, ankles and feet that has been my constant companion for 

the better part of my life now, is made much worse in the heat, 

and makes moving beyond challenging.

So where do you go when you have no place to go… unwelcome wherever you are?


 Life….Delegated Elsewhere.