Shelter, An Uphill Battle

My Personal Story - from Homeless to Housed

As I sit and dream, I dream the same thing as usual, and that is what I would do if I came across a large sum of money somehow. Well, I would build as many shelters as I possibly could. Each shelter would be a place where people who are unhoused could go to have a warm and safe place to stay, where they can come as they are: their pets are welcome; whoever you identify as, welcome; whoever you choose to love, welcome. It would be a place where you are sure to leave with a hope for a future that you are worthy of, which at the time feels so out of reach and probably has for quite some time. Well, I did find a place like this at Interfaith Works, and that place took part in saving my life. I picture a life where shelters like this are everywhere, and there are plenty of beds for every soul that needs one.

So let me back up and tell you some of my story. 

It was December of 2014. I was living at home on the reservation going through the most difficult time of my life when abuser #2 talked me into putting everything I could fit on my back and riding the bus to Olympia, Washington, (where I had never been before), promising me that he had rented a place for us and that there would be a job and sobriety. 

On January 15, 2015, I arrived in Olympia. I was met at the Greyhound station by my abuser, who was high as a kite and who proceeded to inform me there was no place to live, and there was no job. It was pouring rain…man, the sea of emotions I was experiencing at that very moment was almost too much to bear. That first night, we slept tucked back behind some shrubs across from the public library. We only had a blanket to share, and it was wet. This went on for 2 ½ weeks. I was starting to lose hope in a big way, but there was still some.

Abuser #2 was arrested 19 days after I got there because he kicked a parking meter out of the ground for the quarters and dragged it up 5th street. That was a good day for me.

I was eating dinner at Salvation Army, and someone told me about a homeless shelter called Interfaith Works, the shelter I mentioned earlier. They told me I should show up at 5:00 and try to get a bed. I did show up, and I did get a bed. What an amazing place. I stayed there off and on for the next two months. I was welcomed, treated well, and accepted. They made me feel wanted.

Then I was walking across the street to the library, and my ex saw me and beat me badly in the street. All I wanted was to go back to the shelter with Meg and the amazing staff and volunteers. I stayed there sometimes for the next 18 months. 

Every night at 5:00, there was a lottery at the shelter because there were not enough beds. I saw young people, older people, people with and without mental health challenges, people with and without substance abuse disorders. Only some got in - it was quite heartbreaking, really.

According to society, I looked decent enough to not get kicked out of the gas stations where I would go to clean myself up, the fast food restaurants I would sit in, and the steps I would sleep on if I was too tired to go to the woods. But there were times, more than ever should be, that I was not treated kindly, and I was thrown out for no reason. People that “did not look the part” were treated like garbage - downright abused, really - and for what? I will tell you why: for absolutely NO reason! It was so hard to survive as it was, and then to be thrown away by so many people like yesterday’s trash was unbearable.

Well, because of my extreme domestic violence, I was able to have a permanent bed at the Interfaith Works Shelter, which started the events that forever changed my life. Believe me when I say that there is so much more to my story and the stories of so many others.

Switching to the hope piece of this story and what worked

What worked was: 

1. The shelters and how they treated us

2. The Purple House (where you could eat, cook, shower, do laundry, hang out, charge electronics, and get clean clothes)

3. Street Outreach (where you got hot meals, food to take with you, and a side of warm smiles)

4. The chow halls where you got fed on the daily

5. Iggy Hop for harm reduction

6. The public library

7. The church that delivered tarps, tents, flashlights, batteries, hand warmers, jackets, gloves, food, prayer, and much more twice a week

8. The bus passes

9. The free clinics

10. The establishments that did not throw us out

11. My street family for keeping on another safe

12. The hope dealers

13. The ones that never gave up on us

Some important statistics 

On any given night in January 2022 in the United States, there would be 582,462 people experiencing homelessness, according to HUD’s 2022 Annual Homeless Assessment Report. I believe that these numbers are much higher, especially this last year when the prices of everything skyrocketed, and more people are on the verge of homelessness. 

I live in Albany, Oregon, population 58,410. There are only two shelters here. One of the shelters has 140 beds, and the other one has 100 beds. That’s 240 beds in total for a city of almost 59,000. To top it off, to get into the second one, you must pass a urinalysis, and there are no pets allowed. This is not good enough, not even close!!

And back to my story

So, after in-patient treatment, I slipped up, and for two more months, I lived on the streets. Something so strong and powerful was telling me to go home. I know now that it was God. I finally followed that calling. I went to Interfaith Works Shelter, and they bought me a bus ticket back to Oregon to be with my family that I had been away from for two years.

After two months of outpatient treatment someone told me about Oxford Houses (recovery living). I interviewed for a bed, and I got voted in. My rent was $375.00 a month, everything included. I walked up the road and got a job at McDonalds to make my rent. I gained the skills I needed to do life without substances.

I have been a manager at a privately owned recovery home for the last three years. Since I have been there, I have gotten off parole and have been paying on my fines, which are almost  completely paid off. I got my driver's license back. I bought a car. I got a career at the Department of Human Services. Most importantly, I got hope and faith, and now I spread it to the ladies coming into my home and everyone that I possibly can. I will be moving into my own home in eight months. Hallelujah!

So, what can I do to help?

1. I can look the homeless person in the eyes.

2. I can give money when I can, which is often.

3. I can be a part of street outreach and bring needed items to camps.

4. I can make people aware about how bad it really is.

5. I can vote on the issue of homelessness.

6. I can go to open meetings and discussions regarding this issue.

7. I can write governors and whoever else could make a difference.

8. I can volunteer.

9. I can ALWAYS stay humble.

10. I can lead by example and always be kind in an unkind world.

Homelessness cannot be swept under the rug and ignored. This is a problem that has been sweeping our nation. I am willing to do my part, are you? It will take a village, so let's do it.

I would like to personally thank every soul that has helped me on my journey from houseless to housed, from hopeless to full of hope, from lost to found, and from treated like garbage to treated like treasure. I love you from the depths of my soul, and I am eternally grateful. Let's always pay it forward.