Warm, Dry, Full

Cross posted from Daily Kos

Homelessness takes many, many shapes - and most homeless are not living under a bridge, but are living on a friend's sofa, or in a den or guest room.

Les Gapay writes of having lived from the back of his pickup in today's Pundit wrapup. Even that homelessness is mostly invisible, because he's not out begging for coins and sleeping in a doorway.

Homelessness means that you cannot any longer provide a home for yourself and your family. Being warm and dry and fed doesn't equate to being "homed." Having a home of your own gives you the ability to say how things will go, how clean it will be kept, how it will be managed, when it will be quiet and who will be coming over.

Homeless means that you're dependent on someone else's expectations, upon someone else's schedule and way of doing things. If you can't adjust ALL of your psyche to meet them all the way on their side of the equation, you are about to be homeless without the warm/dry/fed part.

Homeless also carries with it an internal stigma. That you couldn't keep it up - you couldn't carry the day and manage it. That you may never be able to do it again.

Homelessness also means forcible separation from one's "stuff." Mine, for instance, is in two different places, 40 miles apart. Not only do I not have any place for it to go, elements of it have been planing away for months - things that once meant a great deal to me are too difficult to keep moving or are broken or just taken. My surround sound system now lives elsewhere forever. My furniture is scattering quickly as friends mention they've always liked this piece or that piece and could they have it? Buy it?

Never does it bring a fraction of what it would cost to replace. My future home, if there should be one, could now be contained in a one bedroom apartment, maybe even a studio. Even knowing that, there is no sense of accomplishment, only an effort to battle a sense of loss.

The only relief homelessness provides is freedom from the crushing slavery to paying housing, utilities, cleaning products, everything that you once did to make and keep your place as your own. My very high paying consulting career ended weeks after 9/11, but the hand writing was on the wall when the incoming Bush administration simply canceled all of the social/education/community development funds that our division was working with. Since then, I've been trying to find a place for myself, and maintaining a space for myself has been a pitched battle each month. Finally, when Hurricane Ike made its appearance, my entire weakened self-employment network came to an end. Twelve days later, I was living on the good wishes of good friends, and wondering when, if ever, I would be "homed" again.It's so very easy for one to think of someone like me, talented, enormous skills, and think "well, you're choosing to do this." At some metaphysical level, that's probably true.

However, when your day is consumed with trying to keep your household going, or trying to figure out where you can put everything when you cannot keep it going, and then trying to help out the people with whom you're staying by doing their house cleaning and chores - there is little time left for actual work. Bouncing around from friend's sofa to friend's sofa leaves little time for planning and execution of your recovery - you barely get your shaving tackle situated and it's time to move on to the next friendly place for a few days. Everyone in your life wants to hear from you "how did this happen? What are you going to do next?" Hours each day of concern - hours that eat up whatever time you do have to make something for yourself.

Hours of concern that can only be interpreted by you as an expression of dismay and disappointment that you didn't work hard enough or make better decisions. Concern that you just don't want to hear anymore, because none of it is helpful or new.

There are no resources for homeless people, if you have a little income and a car of your own. If I were HIV + or if I were a battered woman, there would be assistance. Our society sees fit to help no one; those who worship Ann's Rant "Atlas Shrugged" have done their best to eliminate any social net that they can adequately vilify through daily talking points.So, no bridge for me. No back seat of my car - yet. I'm luckier than most. But, I'm as homeless as the guy who just asked you for a little change on the sidewalk. I'm glad and thankful that I have what I do still have, though.

But, don't be surprised or call me unpatriotic when I say I'm not too proud of this Country of ours just now. That opinion has been a long time coming, and there is only a glimmer of hope for the future.