The homeless shelter volunteer asked me numerous questions, making notes as she spoke.
“Are you sure there is not other place you can stay tonight, Olivia? I know you said you didn’t have a boyfriend–but is there someone you’re sleeping with that would let you stay with them?”
I shook my head, forcing myself not to cry.
She laughed, putting my paperwork in a folder. ”Once you’re old enough to drink, you can find men at bars who’d be willing to give you a roof and a bed–so long as you share that bed.”
She walked briskly ahead, forcing me to quicken my pace or be left behind. We came to the main room, which was filled with nearly a dozen already occupied cots.
“Okay. You can’t leave the building after ten o’ clock, which is also lights out. In the morning, you are required to be gone by ten o’ clock and you cannot return until three. If you can’t prove you’ve done something to better your situation, you will lose your shower privilege for the night”.
As she walked away, I could feel the heaviness of the day sitting on my shoulders. I walked to my cot, instinctively going through the process of emptying my belongings from my backpack onto my bed, and then laying on top of them. It didn’t always work, but it was the best way to avoid theft while you slept.
I pulled my blanket tightly around me. Only 192 more hours, only 192 more hours, only 192 more hours..
*******************************************************************
The universal image of a homeless person is a man sitting under a cardboard box, holding out a cup for change. If this is your idea of the homeless, it doesn’t mean you are an awful person. We are told through media and by society that homeless people are lazy, drug addicted, mentally insane, dangerous people. Just as we are told rich people are snobs.
I’ve never shared any extensive stories of my shelters experiences, simply because I was ashamed. Frankly, it’s quite embarrassing. I told about being embarrassed to a man who subscribed to my blog, a former homeless man who is now a preacher. In response, he said;
No matter how controversial or tough it may be, don’t stop writing your experiences. You may be sharing your past, but you aren’t sharing your social security number; why should it matter if others know? You’re not sharing it to gain anything, you are telling of your life experiences and the lessons you’ve learned. You should only be ashamed if you survived, yet didn’t do anything to help others.
The encouragement I received inspired me to finally begin writing a freelance article on homelessness I’ve been avoiding, simply because it was too tough. As I did my research, I came across this story; http://www.kcra.com/video/28582115/detail.html.
As I read the story, my heart broke into pieces. This woman, a child of God, was treated as nothing more than a bag of trash on the sidewalk. Instead of showing her the truth and grace of Jesus, she was ridiculed and ignored. In a follow-up story, it was told she hasn’t been able to shower in years; YEARS.
Despite popular belief, homeless shelters are terrifying. If you suffer from mental illness, as this woman does, they can be even worse.
I’ve been blessed with a voice and the chance to receive an education. It’d be easy for me to let someone else take the role of survivor turned advocate, and to write about puppies and sunshine.
I’m much too stubborn to do things easily.
-Olivia Catherine
“Are you sure there is not other place you can stay tonight, Olivia? I know you said you didn’t have a boyfriend–but is there someone you’re sleeping with that would let you stay with them?”
I shook my head, forcing myself not to cry.
She laughed, putting my paperwork in a folder. ”Once you’re old enough to drink, you can find men at bars who’d be willing to give you a roof and a bed–so long as you share that bed.”
She walked briskly ahead, forcing me to quicken my pace or be left behind. We came to the main room, which was filled with nearly a dozen already occupied cots.
“Okay. You can’t leave the building after ten o’ clock, which is also lights out. In the morning, you are required to be gone by ten o’ clock and you cannot return until three. If you can’t prove you’ve done something to better your situation, you will lose your shower privilege for the night”.
As she walked away, I could feel the heaviness of the day sitting on my shoulders. I walked to my cot, instinctively going through the process of emptying my belongings from my backpack onto my bed, and then laying on top of them. It didn’t always work, but it was the best way to avoid theft while you slept.
I pulled my blanket tightly around me. Only 192 more hours, only 192 more hours, only 192 more hours..
*******************************************************************
The universal image of a homeless person is a man sitting under a cardboard box, holding out a cup for change. If this is your idea of the homeless, it doesn’t mean you are an awful person. We are told through media and by society that homeless people are lazy, drug addicted, mentally insane, dangerous people. Just as we are told rich people are snobs.
I’ve never shared any extensive stories of my shelters experiences, simply because I was ashamed. Frankly, it’s quite embarrassing. I told about being embarrassed to a man who subscribed to my blog, a former homeless man who is now a preacher. In response, he said;
No matter how controversial or tough it may be, don’t stop writing your experiences. You may be sharing your past, but you aren’t sharing your social security number; why should it matter if others know? You’re not sharing it to gain anything, you are telling of your life experiences and the lessons you’ve learned. You should only be ashamed if you survived, yet didn’t do anything to help others.
The encouragement I received inspired me to finally begin writing a freelance article on homelessness I’ve been avoiding, simply because it was too tough. As I did my research, I came across this story; http://www.kcra.com/video/28582115/detail.html.
As I read the story, my heart broke into pieces. This woman, a child of God, was treated as nothing more than a bag of trash on the sidewalk. Instead of showing her the truth and grace of Jesus, she was ridiculed and ignored. In a follow-up story, it was told she hasn’t been able to shower in years; YEARS.
Despite popular belief, homeless shelters are terrifying. If you suffer from mental illness, as this woman does, they can be even worse.
I’ve been blessed with a voice and the chance to receive an education. It’d be easy for me to let someone else take the role of survivor turned advocate, and to write about puppies and sunshine.
I’m much too stubborn to do things easily.
-Olivia Catherine