Homeless Not Heartless

Normally, I write fictional stories. Tonight, I'm not going to do that. I'm going, instead, to tell you my story.

I lived in an apartment with a couple and the woman 's son in 2010. This after living with various family members. My family, pretty much, have up on me. So, with the help of my best friend, I moved. Things were okay, as long as I did what my roommates wanted or asked of me. I paid my portion of the rent and my bills, they didn't. I lost my job in 2011, collecting unemployment and still making my ends meet.

In 2012, I not only lost the apartment but all sorts of stability. In the chaos, I had a beautiful weekend with a great man. The following few days, I was found squatting in the apartment and told to leave. That first few days, I slept on the floor of the bar I worked security. Hardwood floors do nothing for a back. The owner's wife didn't feel comfortable with me on the floor and felt it necessary to tell me staying with them wasn't an option. So, that night, I slept in the foyer of a police station. Fully dressed, including shoes.

Sleeping in skateboarding shoes is uncomfortable. I was offered places to sleep, if I slept with men. I refused. I refused a lot in those days.

I wandered the city, going from friend to friend sleeping where I found a place. All the while, unknowingly pregnant.

I stayed with a married couple and the wife's parents. Helping where I could.

I helped carry bags of dirt and dry cement. I started to hemorrhage and thus, ended a month long pregnancy. I begged every deity in every pantheon to help me save my baby.

Sadly, even deities don't respond positively.

I called a friend of mine. She let me recover in her home for a few days before taking me to a farm in central Wisconsin. There, against some people 's wisdom, I stayed for a few months before I, yet again, was sent elsewhere.

This time, a Wal-Mart where I was unjustly accused of theft. My belongings were in a black garbage bag and I purchased a Pepsi... With food stamps.

The manager, after calling the police, took and fed me a sandwich.

The police car terrified me. No one was there to comfort me. I did get to sleep on the floor of the foyer.

The office who some me the next morning took me to the bus station and paid for my ticket home. It was the second time I'd slept in the police station. The First? In the beginning, I had friends who didn't want me outside, so they took me to the local station for the night.

I made my way back home, only to end up in a situation that was not the best.

I ended up staying with friends in a part of the city that gunshots were normal, drug deals were common and I had to adapt.

Adapt, I did. One night, I awoke to a man buying my roommate's meds. That man got the business end of a twelve inch chef knife.

Shortly, thereafter, my friend moved and took me with him.

We moved.. To a drug house.

He left after a few months. Technically, he was thrown out after those months.

I was told I could stay but I had to work really hard on the housework.

I tried.

I was nearly killed in an ill thought prank.

Some of my roommates thought it would be hilarious to douse me in ice water while taking a shower. What they didn't think through was a glass bowl gets slippery from condensation. The bowl slipped, bounced off the wall, hit me in the head. The thing about my head? I have a shunt. That's a surgical fiberglass tube in my head to siphon off fluid. Glass breaks? I die.

I prayed that the house closes or that God saves me because I was going to did it I stayed.

A week later, the house is closed.

I as homeless but safe.

I stayed with a friend for a few days. Then that ended. I was out on the streets. I wanted to die.

Then, I went to a hospital. In tears, I told people I was homeless, hopeless and saw no point in anything.

Thankfully, I had a nurse named Penny who didn't give up on me.

I slept in a meditation room, given a bunch of numbers and sent on my way. I called the number, my friend gave me his care and I started my road to recovery.

Homeless taught me a lot about love, faith, family, adversity, courage and strength.

In the shelter, I had two life saving surgeries.

Remember how I slept in police stations? I had, in the shelter, parolees as bodyguards.

I trusted recently released men from jail with my healing body in a part of the city that just had a shooting and people are constantly mugged.I

I don't regret it.

As a matter of fact, I trusted those men more than I trusted my family and friends. They WERE my family and friends.

I dare anyone to tell me I'm not an activist.

Most of the men who took care of me in the shelters were not white men. Most of my close female friends weren't white either.

My friends Jamie and Q were there with me. Jamie was pregnant and her son, Jamir was in a carseat. I was two weeks post-op and she was very pregnant. Neither of us could or should get the little guy out of that seat.

"I'll do it. You're pregnant."

" You can't do it, you'll pop a bunch of those staples. "

"I'll manage. He can't sit there."

" If you're sure. "

I prayed and got him out safely.

We're still friends. Her baby was my dance partner when my ex-boyfriend dumped me.

I look back at the friends I made and the blessings everyone was when I needed them.

I can only hope that my story opens eyes of everyone who reads it.

The world needs love. The kind that gets a little boy out of a carseat and sends three guys out to protect a weak woman. The kind of love that allows a complete stranger to send another home.