A day in the life…
In this piece I want to explore the realities of being homeless on the streets of America as a daily experience.
Having spent a lot of time in homeless shelters, working and volunteering (along with generally spending time with friends experiencing homelessness) I’ve become aware of many of the daily realities of being un-housed.
Of course the central feature of homelessness is simply the lack of a home.
This affects everything… and I mean everything.
Below you’ll find a description of a typical day for me as a housed person, contrasted by a typical day as I’ve witnessed my homeless friends experience – neither descriptions are perfect but I tried to shed light on a common day.
The challenges of street life are exponentially worse if you add a physical disability, a mental health challenge, an addiction issue, or a combination of any of these.
A day in the life:
Housed:
I slowly get out of my bed after a safe, warm, and hopefully restful nights’ sleep. I take my time moving into my day.
No expectation to move quickly unless I have a scheduled meeting or phone call.
Un-housed:
I get up after hiding for the night. Thankful for the Sunrise for safeties’ sake. I’m constantly aware that I have no bed and no legal place to sleep, so I need to get moving before the business owner, or minister arrives and I get a trespassing violation…
On a good night I’ve gotten some sleep and stayed safe.
Most nights I barely sleep.
I may be soaked by rain or snow, buffeted by cold or attacked by an animal, a stray dog, a raccoon (they’re the meanest).
I may be in pain from falling down in the dark or worse… violence, an inebriated acquaintance exacting retribution for some perceived offense. Or a random attack.
People are entirely different in the middle of the night than they are during the day.
Stories of gang-initiation beatings or killings of homeless people abound, and scare all of us that sleep outdoors.
Housed:
I start brewing some coffee. I might plug in my heating pad if my back is aching.
I open the shades to let the morning light in and enjoy the view. I feel safe and sound.
Un-housed:
As I move away from my huddled night, I keep my head down trying to stay invisible, an internal mantra of “I don’t want any trouble” keeps pace with every step.
My body aches.
Housed:
I make use of my bathroom in private and frankly, take as long as I’d like to get ready for my day.
My personal stuff is here, my toothbrush, shampoo, shaver. I rarely give my privacy a second thought, it’s normal.
I utter words of gratitude and take assessment of the generosity I experience.
I’m aware that life could be different and that many people that I love don’t have this luxury.
Un-housed:
Feeling generally unwelcome, I try to find a bathroom, most likely I’ll use the shared one at the shelter, sneak into a service station or a coffee shop – there’s a high likelihood of being denied access.
If I am able to get into a bathroom, people are usually waiting for me to finish and get out, I have a lot of layers of clothes on and it can be a slow process.
Not private, not comfortable, not always clean.
It’s difficult to stress this point too strongly… this is a need we all share.
I have it better than some people I know, they have health issues that require several visits to a bathroom throughout the day, I can’t imagine how hard that is.
I have a lot to be thankful for.
Housed:
After pouring myself a cup of comfort, I take a seat in my favorite chair in the quiet of my living room.
Armed with coffee, a book, a journal, a pair of wooly socks I begin my day.
I’m thankful that I have the time and space to reflect.
I make some breakfast. Eggs and bacon, or an English muffin, maybe some cereal.
Un-housed:
I hopefully get coffee from a shelter, a soup kitchen or a kind soul… oftentimes fixed the way they offer it.
I stand in line to get a breakfast, depending on the size of the soup kitchen, there may be a 30 minute window to eat, finish up and get hurried out for the next crowd. You get what you get, you’re not standing at your fridge trying to decide what sounds good. Sometimes the food is your style and you enjoy it, sometimes you don’t. Mostly it’s fuel, I’m happy to have something in my stomach.
No choice, no menu, no shopping list. I do my best to express gratitude but sometimes the stress of surviving the night has me in its grips and I just want to shrivel up.
I long for a bed, I feel like I could sleep for days.
Housed:
After a shower I put on some clean clothes and kiss my sweet Stephanie good morning.
Un-housed:
After a time-limited shower, I’m rushed out of the bathroom. I was given shampoo and soap of unknown origin but I’m happy to be clean.
I try to collect my thoughts and get on to the next thing. I go to the front desk at the shelter and check the mail, hoping my I.D. has arrived, my birth certificate from my home state, or my school transcripts, something to prove that I exist.
I lost all of my I.D. when I put my backpack in some bushes outside of the Burger King. I was doing a job interview and didn’t want to look homeless. Somebody found it and either threw it in a dumpster or stole it.
All my phone numbers were in my notebook and I lost that to.
Housed:
I check my email, the news, my social platforms and begin my work day.
Sitting in my quiet living room, I have the head-space to make a list of things I’d like to accomplish for the day.
Un-housed:
I sign up for use of the shared computer, hoping I can get a 30 minute time slot to resume my job search.
I’ve emailed my resume to myself so I don’t lose my work but sometimes with such little sleep I forget my password.
I fill out a couple of job applications online.
Housed:
I make some phone calls, set up and confirm meetings, write and answer texts/emails. I’m off to the races.
I throw some clothes in our washer.
Un-housed:
I sign up to get in the queue for the laundry and hope that there have been some sock donations.
Everything I own is in a backpack.
It’s my turn for the laundry. I throw everything I have in a washer and try to call employers about work.
I’m so tired.
Hopefully I can find an outlet to charge my phone and nobody will steal it.
Housed:
I have a lunch meeting with a friend. I order what I want.
I run into folks that I know and we catch up with each other. I feel known by my friends.
Un-housed:
At noon we’re all asked to leave the shelter while they clean up and the afternoon staff gets ready to take over.
We all pack up our gear and move outside. There’s a soup kitchen about a 20 minute walk from here. I lug my stuff in the direction of the crowd.
The people at the soup kitchen are nice though I can’t image all these carbs are doing much for my mental focus or my health.
Housed:
Around mid-afternoon if my head is buzzing from meetings, I may decide to take a quick nap in the quiet of my home. I turn down my phone and drift off trying to let go of the stress.
I wake up refreshed and ready to go again.
Un-housed:
I try to get some much needed rest if the shelter allows me to stretch out somewhere.
The town reduced the size of the park benches to keep us homeless people from stretching out for a nap, it’s actually illegal, vagrancy they call it.
They also removed all of the water fountains. The message is clear, not wanted.
Housed:
I get back at it, phone calls, writing, reading, meetings, projects, whatever my schedule requires and some stuff I’d like to do.
Un-housed:
Back at the shelter I throw my clothes in the dryer. While I wait, I think about all the things that stand between me and getting back to a life that’s mine.
I think and I think and I think.
Housed:
On the way home from my last meeting I stop at the grocery store or the hardware store for the stuff we need.
I give little thought to the cost, I’m frugal but I’m not worried about being without.
Un-housed:
The shelter is closing, it’s time to move back outdoors.
I decide to head down to the corner and hold a cardboard sign.
If I can get enough money, a motel room may be in the cards for the night. A bed sounds amazing right now. A lock on the door, a tv, a bathroom, fresh sheets.
I try not to get my hopes up, I have to guard my heart from disappointment.
Housed:
Once Steph gets home from work we make dinner, enjoy a good conversation about the day, the kids, work, friendships, wherever the conversation takes us.
Work is done and we’re winding down.
Un-housed:
I stand for hours. I receive a mixture of change, dollar bills, water bottles, dirty looks, kindness, religious tracts, slurs, etc. mostly people don’t look at me, I’m invisible… suspect, standing there for all the world to see.
Some fiddle with their radio, or get on their phone, not sure what to do as they wait for the light to change.
Now and then people offer information about resources in the area and ask how I’m doing. It’s how I learned about the shelter.
It’s rare but sometimes people talk to me like I’m a whole human with value, no judgement, no condescension, they see me as someone’s son, brother, father. It feels like a breath of fresh air, like I’m their neighbor or could be their friend. It takes me a second to recognize this kind regard as it’s so foreign to my normal.
I miss my family.
Housed:
Most nights we settle in and watch a movie, a show or read a book.
We may have an adult beverage, some dessert and afterwards maybe talk a little about whatever we just watched.
Un-housed:
I’ve only gathered a few dollars. I’m exhausted and would like an adult beverage, though I run the risk of an open container violation by the police, but it helps me sleep.
I’m not an alcoholic, but the stress makes it difficult to sleep.
It’s odd to say, but buying a bottle of my choosing makes me feel like I’m part of the human race again.
I can express the rare personal choice.
Housed:
Before getting ready for bed I go through my routine of making sure the cars are locked up.
I secure all the exterior doors, turn off all the lights and set the thermostat.
Un-housed:
I’m always keeping my eyes open for potential places to sleep at night.
It’s getting dark and I need to find a different place to hide tonight as I think a few people watched which direction I walked yesterday. I can’t run the risk of being predictable. It’s unsafe.
I move along the sidewalk, head down, trying to look inconspicuous.
I just want to be safe, dry, and warm. I’ll settle for safe.
I need sleep, my body aches constantly.
Housed:
Lastly I brush my teeth, hang up my clothes and climb into my warm and comfortable bed.
A little more conversation with Steph, prayers, shut off my phone then off to dreamland.
I thank God for a bed and a safe place to sleep.
Un-housed:
I find a place that looks hidden, I circle the block for a while, paying attention to see if anyone is watching me.
Once I think I can hide without being seen, I slip behind a fence or a dumpster (though dumpsters attract wild animals and generally stink) the side of a business, an alley, behind some bushes, a church AC unit, anywhere I won’t be found and hurt.
With all the cameras nowadays, it’s getting harder to find a safe spot.
Housed:
I wonder what I did to deserve this but I know it’s the luck of the draw, I’m no better or stronger or smarter than my un-housed friends and I’m certainly not as brave.
I try to think of beautiful places so my dreams can be sweet.
Tomorrow’s another day.
Un-housed:
Once I think I’m safe I huddle up, hoping to fall asleep. It’s hard to get comfortable.
I wonder what I did to deserve this but that kind of thinking makes me feel dark and I can’t afford it.
I express gratitude, I know it could be worse.
I try to think of a better place so my dreams aren’t so scary.
Tomorrow’s another day.
