My Experience With Homelessness and Compassion for The Homeless

My experience with homelessness has never really been a topic that I’ve spoken about in any detail. It’s not because I am repressing some horrible memories, or that I am trying to hide my past. My tangled and twisted upbringing has made me a better person, and I let today’s actions and words speak for themselves. I have not been homeless for a number of years, but the experiences and lessons I learned during that time have stayed with me. Of course, I never enjoyed those times, but I would not go back and change it if I could. I believe that surviving through the years of changing housing, turbulent familial relations, and the corrupt social welfare system have made me compassionate, loving, accepting, and more than motivated to give others a better life.

My parents separated when I was fairly young, when I was in the earliest years of school. My mother told me that daddy was sick, that it wasn’t my fault, that he loved us very much but just needed some time. I was losing what I was maybe selectively seeing as a good household, middle class life. Our house with backyard was no longer ours, it was just my father’s- a man who I knew loved me but seemingly did not try. At that age, I didn’t understand alcoholism and how it’s not really something the person can change- it’s a disease like any other. I never saw my dad drink in excess and he was never abusive, but there were some things that I guess I convinced myself were normal. I know now that parents don’t leave their kids alone in the house to go to the gas station to “meet a friend.” It wasn’t a friend, it was beer. Daddy was not just tired, he was under the influence. My mother took us out of there in hopes of him getting better and us being better off too. It was not that easy.

Where we went was really no better. I don’t wish to go into detail too much, but living with my maternal grandparents was hell. No running water or working plumbing, strict access to being allowed food. We were kept away in the upstairs, almost like hideaways in the attic. Those grandparents had just as many problems as my father, but at least he did love us. These people, so flawed in their own way, were somehow ashamed of us, and they let that be known. That’s where I stayed for all of my elementary and some of my middle school years. I was bullied, I was in groups to make friends by some sort of pity curriculum. When we moved to hotels and shelters, I commuted an hour to school. I was trapped in the years that were bad enough for the kids with some stability. It was horrible. My father did try, in and out of rehab, but we mostly lost touch. He became controlled by his demons and took it out on us, and that was hard for me to understand then. How could someone who loves you also say such horrible things?

Living in the shelters and hotels was also not too great, as one could imagine. The shelters were full of people on power trips- I remember having my bags forcibly taken from me and searched every time I came home from school. I was somehow a threat at twelve years old. I was confused, conflicted, without any outlet. The hotels were no better. My father ended up staying down the hall from us at one point, me being the awkward messenger between my fighting parents. Then, it became obvious. Walking into a room of beer cans was a horrible awakening. This was an illness he couldn’t fight, that he was losing to, and that he was well aware of. It was sickening.

I am not really sure how I kept going. I wanted to give up everyday as nothing seemed to get better. Social Services would promise us greener grass and better days, only to kick us out the door and into some other hellhole with women stuck in the same place as us. Everything seemed to work against me, I blamed myself for everything, I struggled with depression and anxiety. It took very long for me to accept that it was really nobody’s fault and that I certainly was not to blame. What happened happened. I guess some small hope kept me going, that one day I would look back and say “see, things do get better,” and they did. That’s where I am now. Things are not perfect, but things are so much better. I don’t think I ever thought it would turn out this well.

Now, I have somewhere to live. I am a high honors student in a great school. I am going to a college that will prepare me to help others in ways that aren’t so obvious. That’s what keeps me going now, to one day be able to show others that their things get better, and to make them better as well. I will be attending SUNY Cobleskill for Animal Science and Equine Assisted Therapies. I have been fortunate enough to experience the changing impact that animals can have on those in need. Animal husbandry and industry will provide me with the skills to hopefully raise my own stock and agriculture. I am not greedy- I want to help. With that experience, I know I can provide opportunity by working with charities to provide goats and chickens to people in suffering countries, to give them food and a true sense of independence and place. I know I can have my own place too, a peaceful place for myself and my animals. I want others to see what I have seen, to experience the changes that horses and dogs can grant. With my Minor in Equine Assisted Therapies, I can help children to walk again. I can help veterans to trust and to lead once more. I can take a battered woman and let her see for herself that she is worthy, that others listen to her, that she matters to us and the horse she is atop. It’s ambitious, but with my drive, I know I will get there. I want a simple life, something different than what I have lived.

I want to help, to better, to lead along in the bad days and to find the hope in the good ones. Animals are such a fantastic tool for helping people, whether it be by providing food and income, or providing a true friend and partner in challenging tasks. My past has put me where I am and has told me where I want and where I feel I need to go. I know I can get there, and that it will be worth it in the end. Everyday is one day closer to the good times. My mother has always told me that it’s not over until it’s good. Right now, life is good, but it’s not over. I can make it great.

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