Changing the face of homelessness

It was early on a Saturday morning when I stepped into our little local grocery store.  I had visited this little store many times. The employees who worked at the store all knew who I was and seemed to enjoy my presence. I think that the employees also knew about my home life, and that  they felt somewhat sorry for me. I walked to the store that morning running an errand for my mother. She would send me to the store with two $1 food stamps to buy an item that cost $1.09. I would then return the change to my mom so she could send me right back to the store to buy her a pack of cigarettes. I was only 8 years old at the time.  I knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew the punishment for doing something wrong all too well. Maybe I did know right from wrong, but I did not fully understand it. For sure, I thought the only punishment for doing something wrong was a severe beating.  I had not had any breakfast this particular morning and I was very hungry. That led m...

I walked around with an emptiness in my soul that I was sure I would never regain. The horrific and painful deep scars I battle that were delivered to me as a child. The lifelong seach for a happiness that has always been able to elude  me. The intrusive memories that kept knocking me down and the desire to somehow find a place I can call home. This is what fuels me today. I know so many of my homeless family experience these or simular feelings.   I can relate to each of their stories. I understand what it is like to be a victom and not a survivor. Our core values are shrouded by these feelings and memories. Our worth is hidden by masks that we invent. We hide in the shadows. We try to become invisible not just from society but ourselves. This isn't something we chose as many people believe. A  high percent of homeless suffer from  childhood traumas and abuse. If we all had  the opportunity to see doctors and psychiatrist at that young age....

In May 2019, I found myself experiencing homelessness once again. As had occurred numerous times before, I simply couldn't manage. Despite considering myself reasonably intelligent, my persistent inability to handle money and finances continued to trouble me. You'd think I would have figured this out by now. History repeated itself; I essentially gave away all my possessions. I took my truck to the scrapyard, drove it across the scales, and received $220. Just two months prior, I had spent $800 on the tires for that very truck. I returned to my empty apartment, possessing only a single bag containing a few articles of clothing, hygiene items, paper for writing, and some snacks. I walked toward downtown St. Joseph, in the same direction as the Missouri River. Within minutes, I found natural shelter beneath an old oak tree. Near the river, you always receive unbiased acknowledgment. It's the wildlife that seems to have a knack for finding you. It might be a pesky raccoon, a s...