What It Was Like to Be In a Homeless-Like Situation

I don't know what it's like to live in a shelter, or completely on the street. But, I do know what it's like to sleep in a van, have no restroom at my convenience, or enough money to eat. I know what it's like to live in fear, to shake and tremble, live in high anxiety and not know what the next hour or day will bring. And I know what it was like to have to ask for money--something I just never did. Not even from my own family because we didn't really have any. I know what it's like to be forced into a situation beyond my control without any idea what to do about it other than use my resources to the best of my abilities. Fortunately, I had a computer and wi-fi exists, and places like Starbucks, Whole Foods Market, Barnes and Noble and the public library are there for 'free' wi-fi. (Except most people feel obligated to purchase something, other than at the library)

By the way, in Philadelphia, the 30t Street train station is open 24 hours, but it's cold in there in the middle of the night during the winter and the largest restroom is open from 5:00 AM to Midnight. The smaller one is open around the clock, with chronically homeless people sometimes wailing in pain. Crying. Bags piled on top of a walker or something with wheels. She was hovering over the restroom sink wailing, this one lady, with layers upon layers of clothing to keep warm. Anyway, this is happening all the time. A lot of people don't know and most people don't know what to do about it. I didn't realize, until experiencing this in-person, just how bad it is. At least in Philadelphia it is this way. Some police officers know, because they man the station. The lady who cleans the restrooms in the station knows because she feels badly, but she sort of has to yell at some people to clear out of the restroom. To "move it along. get out of here," kind of thing. I found out you're not supposed to hang around the train station unless you have a ticket for the train, but the cops are somewhat relaxed on the issue, making just one round for a ticket check at about 4:30 AM or so. I think Dunkin' Donuts is open 24 hours in that place. Saxby's opens later, and so does everything else. Au Bon Pain and others like it.

Fortunately, I did have a few people I could ask for money who actually gave me some. Not much, but it was probably better than pan-handling on the street. There was one person, Arly, who I went to school with, who was happy to help without question, without obligation and without guilt. I couldn't believe it. I was able to create a GoFundMe page. I know most homeless people can't do this very easily, lacking the resources to do so and personal connections who can offer much money. I didn't get much money, but, to me, it was more than I expected. $500 is a lot to me. A handful of people gave me money. I had a donation for $70, $100, $80, $200, and $50. This was a lot to me and I'm sure it would be a lot to someone panhandling, or begging, on the street. I was begging, almost crying, trying to explain why I was in the situation in which I found myself.

I did not take a shower for four weeks, but I lived in the van for six weeks right up until mid January 2018 when the van I was living in was towed, on a holiday no less. My socks, damp from the snow and ice we had through December, were stuck to my feet. Flakes of skin fell from my shins. Yellowish, pungent skin, tender to the touch, was refreshed once finally exposed to the warmth and comfort of a hotel room.

I was never happier to take a shower in my entire life. This was during a major snow storm. Someone else I knew then put me up in an Airbnb for three nights. Freezing temperatures blanketed the area. But I was back to the van after up until that fateful day when the van I was in was towed, compounded, with all my belongings, behind the IKEA store in southern Philadelphia. Way down near the last exit to the airport and an old naval yard. I had to walk there in hopes of retrieving it. I had to ask for the money to retrieve from a client.