Last time?

On Saturday, October 30th, 2021, I was evicted from my apartment. I had fallen two months behind on rent due to a layoff from work. Although I applied for unemployment, the funds were taking an excessively long time to be deposited into my account. Ironically, the only agency that could have potentially prevented my homelessness was my employer, but a conflict of interest prevented them from offering assistance. Having experienced homelessness for a significant portion of my life, I instinctively headed to the river. However, this time was different. I began to journal my experiences, partly as a coping mechanism and partly with the intention of sharing my reality with others, hoping to foster a better understanding of what homelessness truly entails. Would this prove too challenging even for someone as seemingly resilient and experienced as me?

It is now Saturday morning, October 30th, and I sit by the river with my car packed with all my belongings. I struggle to comprehend how this has happened. The stark realization that I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to for help begins to sink in. Depression starts to take hold, and the riverbank, once a familiar refuge, now feels uncomfortable. I move to three or four different locations along the river, but with each shift, the depression and paranoia intensify. I feel utterly alone and unwanted. Tonight, I have to work from 4 PM until midnight. The thought of returning to a dark, frightening, and unknown world at the end of my shift fills me with fear and doubt. I leave work with only three hot dogs and two apples, in a car with very little gas. My mental state is deteriorating rapidly, and I find myself not caring about what the future holds. Hope has vanished, and my faith is weakening.

I decide to build a fire on the riverbank. As I gather firewood, I find myself cursing aloud in the woods, anger now joining the other unwelcome emotions. I start the fire and sit beside it, looking up at the sky and then at the river, repeatedly yelling, "Why me? What did I do to deserve this?" The wind begins to pick up significantly, and the temperature drops sharply, making it impossible to maintain the fire. Feeling utterly defeated, I retreat to my car.

It is now around 2 AM when I arrive at a new location. My thoughts turn to my new job and how this current situation will undoubtedly impact my ability to even begin my career. I contemplate quitting before even having the chance to prove myself. The overwhelming feeling that I must have done something terribly wrong to deserve such pain consumes me. The only glimmer of hope I cling to is the thought of the Food Kitchen opening at 11 AM for lunch.

Sitting in my car, I begin to plead and beg the angels and the heavens for help. I apologize and ask for forgiveness for whatever transgressions I may have committed. I pray for intervention while simultaneously questioning God's decisions. My spirituality is now deeply affected. Exhaustion eventually overtakes me, and I manage to fall asleep for perhaps two hours, the cold seeping into my bones. Hunger gnaws at me, and the need to use the bathroom is urgent. I remain in my car, battling a torrent of negative emotions, waiting for the Food Kitchen to open. My mental health has plummeted to a dangerously low point. With the river so close, thoughts of giving up become intrusive. Who would truly care anyway?

It is 10:30 AM, and I am intensely cold, hungry, and profoundly confused. I begin to disassociate from reality, and a wave of physical nausea washes over me. It is a struggle to even try to survive as I make my way to the Food Kitchen. After receiving my lunch, I go to the parking lot of the cold weather shelter, hoping to find some rest. As I lie there, I despise every breath I take, indifferent to whether I ever take another. Lying back in my seat, looking up at the clouds, I silently ask God to take me home.

It is now 12:45 PM, and the police have just left after checking my car, deeming it suspicious. This is clearly not a safe place to rest. At 1:20 PM, I am back at the river. One of the men from the Judah House bought me a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. Another man from The Haven, needing a ride to the dollar store, put five dollars in my gas tank. The temperature has risen slightly, so I will attempt to nap, even though I feel like I am living in a living hell.

It is 3:00 PM, and I have just woken up. My immediate feeling is one of utter apathy. I already anticipate that tonight will be even colder than the last. I hate my life. It is now 5 PM, and I know I am facing another restless and unforgiving night. The state hospital will likely call me in the morning, and I will have to make a decision, my thinking and decision-making processes severely impaired. I no longer feel like a contributing member of society. A surge of rage washes over me as darker clouds gather from the north and the wind begins to intensify.

It is 8 o'clock, and I am experiencing a panic attack. I am truly terrified. Every movement and shadow seems menacing. I am sweating and struggling to breathe. I am completely alone and desperately need someone here with me. This torment needs to end.