Some years ago I had a lady friend who was into Tarot, palm reading and the whole biz. Together with the Chinese birth years, these things pointed out that I'd likely die old, alone and in pain. I ignored it.Now that I'm closing in on those years and have lost my entire family infrastructure for various reasons, most of them through my own fault, through my own stubbornness, the prospect of sleeping rough on the streets fills me with dread. It really does.
That's why, when I saw this first hand article, it needed to be read. It deals with how people get to that point and if I'm annoyingly self-focused here, please forgive me. Fleeing from domestic violence [not me], alcohol [not me], losing one's mind and reason [slowly, slowly] or losing one's family and friends. Ah, yes. And from pride. Most certainly.
When you sleep rough, your existence takes on an unequivocal fragility. You're exposed to the elements and frequently succumb to illness. Your blankets and possessions are often stolen. You stand a good chance of being physically assaulted, harassed or openly mocked just for being who you are.
A 70-year-old homeless woman I worked with told me how one night she woke up in a shop alcove to discover a man in a suit urinating on her. Is it any wonder that the homeless often conceal themselves from prying and judgemental eyes?
How can people live and die on the streets in a country as rich as ours [and] why do people live this way when there's help available? The truth is, the help is severely limited. People who are homeless and over 40 report being too frightened of using crisis housing because they've heard stories of younger residents' drug use or violence. How long they remain there often depends on their mental health and physical strength.
Our income depends on our mental acuity - in my case, I live on my wits. Once that becomes erratic, the cash dries up and when that happens, I'm out there. It's just a question of time. People might say, from kindness, 'James we'd never let you fall so far.' They're judging by the James they know. They might quietly slip away from the James of twenty years from now. They'll most probably not even be there by that stage.
Who knows when it will strike?
As long as we're here, you can't die alone :)
ReplyDeleteMt dear James,
ReplyDeleteMight I suggest the following course of action?
1. At all times and under all circumstances, keep a one-way ticket home to Blighty in your pocket.
2. Phone a relative. They might be as keen to speak to you as you are quite clearly as keen to speak to them.
Problem solved.
Those under 18 who are sleeping rough are too young to get a place in a hostel. Can you believe that?!
ReplyDeleteJames, I worked for several years in our church's Food Pantry, where we gave out free groceries to anyone who showed up, no questions asked, no religious tracts passed out, no judgments made.
ReplyDeleteAnd from my limited experience, I'd say 95% of the truly homeless folk (sleeping on the streets) were mentally ill, some seriously so.
I am close to two families who are/were struggling with schizophrenic family members, and in the United States there is absolutely nothing you can do to prevent an adult with schizophrenia from living on the street, unless he is waving a knife at someone, and that is rare.
More frequently, the mentally ill are victims of violent crimes. In the case of the first family I mentioned, their son was brutally murdered after being released by the police because "he was no threat to anyone."
To me, the shame of homelessness is in how our society has turned our backs on the mentally ill.
Thanks for the above comments, which put things nicely in perspective.
ReplyDelete