Homeless to Helpless to feeling Hopeless…Survival is Exhausting.

I am going to tell the truth about everything. I don’t care anymore who reads this, who cares or more likely, who doesn’t. I haven’t written in a long time. Mostly because all that I want to say is not exactly “positive”, the way I’ve always tried to be on this blog. Even during the worst of what I have had to endure these past few years, I tried to keep my hope and faith, and show people that it can be “okay”.

Well, today, I don’t feel okay. My life does not feel OKAY.

The last time I wrote, it seemed my life was getting better. I was working so hard to get back on my feet, and I was. I was going to classes, working at getting my GED, had a job. Everyone was cheering me on, telling me how proud they were of how hard I was working to “fix” my situation. Well, shit falls apart faster than you can blink. I guess I’ve been too ashamed to write since it all changed. Now, I just don’t care. I have to let this out and let the chips fall where they may.

I got hired at four different jobs this past year. Some of these jobs lasted a day, some a couple weeks. One job, the best job, even lasted a month, but that is because 3 weeks of it was in a classroom. I do that well, learning, class time.

However, after getting these jobs the anxiety attacks would start. Yes, I have a disease. It’s called Generalized Anxiety disorder. It is NOT a choice. It is NOT laziness. It is a real disease, and it is torture. So, one by one, each job was quit.

I also suffer from severe depression at times. (If you’ve followed my life at all up till this point, you’ll understand why). Depression is also a disease. I don’t choose it. I fight it. Some days I fight it with all my might, some days I glide through all happy, smiling, sunshine, photo taking, dancing…me. Then, there are days when it swallows me whole and I can’t find the strength to do the “positive thinking”, gratitude shit that can help.

Anyway, now that I’ve explained my challenges, my diseases, let’s add my daily struggles on top of this pile of shit.

Uncertainty while I was homeless was the scariest part. Never knowing what I would or would not have from day to day. Well, not having an income now creates that same fear, that same frustration and anxiety. The shame that I can’t take care of myself.

I have a place to live. I have food stamps. They give me $194 a month for food. You figure that out. Think about how you would eat, what you would eat, how you would make it last 4 weeks. It normally lasts about two. maybe three if I don’t eat much.

Now, let’s consider the other necessities of life. The things not covered by Food stamps. Toilet paper, dish soap, paper towels, shampoo, trash bags, vacuum bags….everything thing else needed to run a home. These require money. I have none.

I have one dear friend who pays my cable/internet and my car insurance each month, and tries to make sure I have all of these things. But, it is demeaning nonetheless to have to tell someone that you need them to buy you toilet paper…again.

I started panhandling about a month ago. I made a cardboard sign, found a nice spot at my local Wal-mart, and stood out there accepting money from strangers. Mostly being ignored and making people feel uncomfortable. Watching them look away, so they didn’t have to see. Most I think are just fearful that it could happen to them. Some judging and thinking things like, “why doesn’t she just get a job”…”oh, she’s probably not homeless” (which is true), or whatever else it is we all think when we see “those people”. Snap judgments based on nothing. No one truly knows what anyone is going through, but we all do it. Make those judgments.

Those of you who have read this far are probably thinking “there are resources”. No, there are not. Not for cash anyway. Welfare and medicaid are only for those who have children. I won’t even get into my health issues here, or the fact that without money or insurance, you don’t exist to the medical community.

Anyway, back to my story.

Panhandling was good. Pride crushing, but good. I averaged about $60 a day. This made me feel kinda good that I could buy my own stuff, the things I needed or sometimes just wanted. You know, important shit, like that scented candle (a luxury for me). Until some Wal-mart white shirt came one day and said I couldn’t stand there with a sign anymore. This morning I was at Wal-mart at 5am bumming cigarettes from people. IF you feel the need to say anything about my smoking, please move on now.

Omg, this post is becoming longer and longer.

I know that my ex will read this, and probably be happy about my misery. He never cared what happened to me when I was homeless, never offered to help, and still doesn’t. He is good that way. At just turning his back on people…he did it with his son, and his own mother, so why did I think it would be any different with me? He walked out on me, our dogs and our whole life together and never once asked if he could help. Never said me missed me, or asked if I was okay….so fuck him. I don’t care what if he reads this now. I will write the truth about him, my truth. He wants everyone to see him as the victim in this. HUH. He walked away to a job, a free motel room, a paycheck, and took our $349 a month food stamp card with him. I was left with a house full of our stuff, two dogs I had to turn into the shelter, and a two day eviction notice. Again, Fuck Him!

When I was homeless the only people who truly helped me were strangers, or distant friends. Not family, not siblings, not my kids….just strangers, oh, and one cousin (sorry hon). My brother offered a place for me to go back in Mass., but that wasn’t possible, he had his own problems. My other brother, never even tried to contact me. My sister who lives just 2 hours from me, wouldn’t let me live with her because her boyfriend didn’t want me there. Really? What the hell is that? I would never turn away a family member and just let them be homeless because of ANYONE. Maybe it was not even the truth. Maybe SHE just didn’t want me. A few months back as she and her boyfriend were facing some financial issues of their own, then got an inheritance from a dead relative of his. Not a shitload of money, but a good deal. They had just filed for bankruptcy, and she told me that her lawyer said they had to spend that money fast if they still wanted to file. She tells ME this. Really? Your gonna tell me that your “problem” is that you have to spend what I would consider a “great” amount of money really quickly, but don’t offer to help me? Then she tells me over and over how money doesn’t make you happy. Meanwhile, I’m looking under my car seat for pennies to get toilet paper. Yeah, okay.  Fuck them all. Karma is a bitch. I would never wish bad on anyone, but I’m tired of being silent about the way I was treated by those who are supposed to care. Whatever.

So, here I sit….no money at all. I applied for SSI for my depression/anxiety issues and it of course has been months. No income, not sure where to panhandle now. Running out of smokes…staring at a whole list of stuff I need at the store, all stuff that I need money to get.

The one bright spot in this past year is that I got approved for an emotional service animal. I got a dog. The loss of my dogs, Cody and Casey still breaks my heart every day, but Miss Penny Lane has helped to fill the lonely hours. She makes me laugh, she kisses my tears away…..I love her.


I guess that is what I had to say….Just a rant. If it wasn’t raining I would be out somewhere panhandling or at least bumming smokes off of strangers. Survival is exhausting….I could sleep forever.




Homeless, Scared, and Trying to Fund Home…

The title says it all…well, all I can say for now I guess. I’m scared. Am being evicted as of this coming Wed. Hubby is going his way, and I am going mine. I have a temporary place to stay, but it is not an ideal situation. My brother wants me to come back to Mass. He has stage 4 prostate cancer, and is on disability. He wants to pay for me to come home when he gets his next check, but I don’t want him to have to do that, so I am trying to raise donations to get me home. If I can’t raise enough to get home yet, the funds will help me to stay off of the street, and buy me some time. I know it is a lot to ask, and please, if you can’t help I understand. I want no one to feel badly. If you can’t help personally, it would help if you could repost the link for me on social media.  I am truly blessed by you all caring so much for me. Now, I guess you know why I have been so absent lately. Life is tough, but so am I. I will make it with God’s help. Hugs, love and peace.



Fear in the Middle of the Night

The sound of my dogs barking startled me from a sound sleep. I jumped out of bed, my feet cold on the old linoleum floor. I reached the living room where the dogs were in their kennels, and that’s when I heard the soft tap, tap, tap on the front door. I ran back to my room, confused, wondering what time it was, grabbed my cell phone and saw that it was, 12:45 A.M. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. There was no way I was opening the door at this hour, not in this neighborhood! Unable, because of my short stature, to view anything through the peephole, I ran to the next room, and opened the window. “Who the hell is it”, I yelled in my most firm voice, hoping to sound more pissed off than scared. There on my porch was a woman I have met casually two or three times around the neighborhood, even inviting her in on one occasion to give her a couple cigs and chat. I knew from the few encounters with “T” that she was not someone I wanted to get close to, something just didn’t feel “right” about her.

Now, here she was, standing on my porch in the middle of the night. She appeared to be extremely intoxicated, and unable to comprehend how pissed off I was for this rude awakening. “It’s me “T”  she said. “I know who you are,” I replied, “it’s almost one in the morning! You woke me up and got my dogs going nuts! You need to leave!” The woman swayed, and repeated who she was, and kept looking around her, like she was waiting for someone to come looking for her. “You don’t come to my house at this hour! You NEED to f*cking leave, NOW,”  I yelled. I slammed the window down, making sure to lock it, and watched as the woman stood on the porch a moment, as if deciding what to do next. When I looked out again, she was gone.

About fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on my bed, trying to calm down enough to go back to sleep, and then…my cell phone rang. I jumped at the sound, my heart pounding once again. I wasn’t going to answer, but I was pissed. “What?” I yelled as I answered it. The voice of a strange man on the other end, sounding very drunk asked, “Who’s this”? “You called me,” I said, “who the hell is this?” I can’t recall what he said his name was, I only noticed how drunk he sounded, and how nervous it made me. I was especially concerned with how little time had passed between the knock on my door and this phone call, I just kept up my “tough girl pissed off” persona, told him he had the wrong number, and hung up.

I called the police after that. I mean, my husband is away on business, and I was really shook up. They sent an officer over, and I retold all that had taken place in the past half hour. He took down my description of “T”, and the strange phone call, and told me he would be cruising the neighborhood several times tonight, and to call again if I needed him, this made me feel somewhat better. After I had time to calm down, I remembered that the man on the phone had said something about  finding my number in his wife’s phone. I did a reverse search of the number he called from, and it wasn’t even listed as a cell phone, it was a land-line about five blocks from my house! This really freaked me out, and I started to cry. I tried to call my husband down in Florida where he is working. I hated to phone him at two in the morning, but I needed someone to calm me down, some reassuring voice…he didn’t answer his cell. It wasn’t even on, went straight to voice mail. REALLY? I tried again, nothing. I attempted to call my sister after that, and her ringer was off for the night, got her answering service. OMGosh…I mean, what if something really bad had happened to me? Let me get this straight, if I get into an accident, or am murdered by some drunk, home invading psycho at 2 AM I guess no one wants to know about it…well, at least not until a decent hour.

This whole incident has left me feeling more alone than ever. What man doesn’t have a way for his family to reach him when he’s on the road, even if it is the middle of the night, ESPECIALLY in the middle of the night? I know my sister keeps hers ringer off because of bill collectors calling…but, I really, truly have no one. I am on my own when it comes to this stuff…like, needing comfort. I am completely on my own, always have been since I was 14 years old. You’d think I would be used to the idea by now… I can’t depend on anyone, even when they should be there for me.