healing from homelessness (12/12/22 - 4/6/25)

this is a post I started back in mid-February of 2024 when I wanted to talk about my transience and how my various periods of homelessness had affected me more and more over the years.  at that point, I had been housed for around two months and was still recovering from sleeping in the front seat of my car for four or five months.  I was sleeping a lot - like, going to bed at 7pm, waking up at 1am, puttering around for an hour or three, and going back to bed until I needed to wake up to get ready for work.  it meant working out the kinks in my body from sleeping rough (though not as rough as folks on the street), losing 10 pounds from being able to prepare the foods I wanted, when I wanted, and seeing my A1c drop several points.  I was beginning to feel like being socially active, and wanted to take part in community activities where I could meet other folks with similar interests.

 

my last apartment in the US, the night I moved in.

 

then I hit a plateau of sorts, as my work schedule firmed up, and appointments happened on days off.  the kid came home from school and was feeling more comfortable in our newest home, and the apartment was getting more organized.  I was still dragging a bit, and that was ok, because I was still coming out of a period of depression and inactivity from the year of mourning my mother, and all that happened as a result of that - international travel, grief, strained relations, family issues, the kid's final year of high school and his attempt to attend college...it was a lot and more.  but I felt the pull towards abundance.  friendships.  quality of life.  I missed my girlfriends from NY (still do).

because I had a good job and was earning decent money I started 'paying it forward'.  I gave one of the homeless girls I worked with some money against a paycheck she couldn't cash because I chose to trust she would pay me back (she didn't).  I contributed to a few gofundme campaigns my 'friends' posted on facebook.  I took an old friend out for a nice lunch for her birthday.  I gave of my time and energy by serving on committees that worked towards building community, attended council meetings, networked with local organizations as well as state and federal agencies, wrote reports, developed surveys and compiled the results for our town and city representatives, and more.  it was a really positive moment in my life, and I thought I had found my place, but I also started to burn out a little.

 

the only picture that exists of me at my desk.  

what I can tell you about this picture is that I'm wearing one of the t-shirts I made with our organization's logo on it, my hair is done up, and I'm wearing jewelry.  that's a level of 'put together' I rarely have the energy to achieve.

 

I tried dating, but that didn't pan out so well (I think I'm just over it).  it was a period of doing what I needed for myself; if that was sleeping a lot and smoking tons of pot, eating out and neglecting the dishes, then I did my best not to sweat it, or myself.  watching another movie, sitting on my ass, not exercising.  not worrying about doing what was 'right' or productive.  sometimes, we do too much.  put it down, it's not your problem.  I yelled at my friend for going on and on about their ex because it had been years since their relationship ended and I really thought it was time for them to move on.  as much as I tried my best to find grace for myself and others, I sometimes failed.  what do You need to put down?  the doubts?  the fears?  the perfectionism?  

...but this was about homelessness, healing, and All My Stuff.  when we had to move quickly (again) after my mom died, we ended up in a furnished apartment for the boy's last year of high school which meant 98% of our things ended up in storage for an entire year, and when he graduated and we moved to VT, we just took everything out of storage in NY, put it in a moving truck, and put it right back into storage in VT until we were able to bring it to the new apartment while the kid was on winter break after his first semester of college (I got the keys and stayed on the floor in the empty place with the cat for that first month).  

 

she was so happy to have room to move around!

 

so after not seeing or having the majority of my things for a year and half, I was in no rush to unpack them because it was somewhat overwhelming.  like I said, the apartment is tiny (in retrospect, and from my apartment in Israel which is half the size of the apartment in VT, it looks like a mansion!), I made the painful choice to let go of the lovely antique curved glass cabinet that my grandparents gifted me when I was 15 or so, and my mother's old steamer trunk.  those two items held most of my nicer collections of things, and my art supplies, respectively.  the art supplies were relegated to some repurposed shelves in a closet, but the scales, antique glass bottles, old dolls, fancy tchachkis, and more I simply repacked into boxes and stored in another closet as there was nowhere to display them, and their display case was gone because it was simply too large and delicate for me to figure out how to fit it in the apartment.  

 

the steamer trunk had been a part of my life as long as I can remember, and I will probably always regret giving up these two items, yet do my best to live with my decision.

I also tried to minimize my book collection, but I had gotten rid of many of the milk crates I used as a bookshelf, so they ended up stacked on the floor in unruly towers.  and as the book 'shelf' was gone, I had no space to set up my altars.  truly demoralizing.  I mean, I did the best I could with one surface functioning as a very rudimentary sacred space, but much like so many of my more precious items, the sacred bits and pieces were mostly still packed away (still are) and would remain so until I felt safe enough to access them.  

safe enough...that's it, really.  that bottom line of 'we never fully unpack because we're always ready to run' thing I used to discuss with certain Romani friends, and how we kept stashes of 'good boxes' for that purpose.  and giving up my 'good boxes' is a hard lesson I still catch myself learning.

so just two short years later (an ongoing pattern in my life with both relationships and apartments) I found myself sifting through my belongings again, making the deepest cuts to date of my beloved items, and moving overseas to fulfill my dream/nightmare of living in Israel.  and guess what?  after the first month of staying in an Airbnb, I ended up kicking around on the edge of homelessness for a few weeks until I managed to find a sublet for a month, then the apartment I've been in for a year and a few months.  I remember reading a horoscope a few days before signing the contract that said "this is the first day of the rest of your life".  so does it feel like home yet?  sorta kinda, not really, almost.  I still have a pile of boxes packed with the last of the precious and sacred items I couldn't bear to part with stacked up in front of the bookshelf, giving the place an unfinished, transient feel because I don't have the money to buy the furniture I need to unpack them onto - yet.  

 

my 'sacred' items and tchatchkis...and probably a few more things I've forgotten about.

 

believe it or not, there's still a few things I left in VT that I meant to bring with me!  oh well.  my son either will or won't bring them to me someday.  if so, I'll find/make space for them.  if not, I'll just add them to the list of things I loved and lost, and hold them in my memory.  

I probably won't hang the artwork/tapestries until I get the furniture/boxes dilemma solved.  since I don't know how long I'll get to stay here, I'm reluctant to 'move all the way in' for fear of feeling At Home, and having to run again.  why?  I had a glimmer of a thought of staying here for...I don't know...years?  a long time - for me?  much as I hate living in a city and would prefer to live in what passes for suburbs here (or lord willing, the country), I have to be realistic about the fact that I make very little money and may never be able to afford anything more, including the car I would probably need if I lived somewhere more rural.  I've never planned ahead, or was any good at setting future goals because I guess I just never imagined living this long, or that I would be able to do anything other than wander through life on the edge of survival.  

and once again, I don't feel connected to my community yet, either.  I don't feel essential at work, or like I'm doing the best that I can there; I don't know anyone in my building or have any friends, though the guy at the local falafel place knows my face, as well as do some of the folks who work at the shops I frequent.  but no one knows my name or would notice if I went missing.  I'm still not eating quite right or exercising, and I haven't managed to figure out the healthcare system to the point of feeling like I'm taking proper care of myself.  the few times I have managed to find the energy for socializing and attend events the other folks were all 10 to 20 years older than me, and/or several tax brackets above me, so I just didn't fit in.  

and I guess there's a part of me that wanted that, because...here I am.  always on the outside, looking in.  feeling the pull of wanting to be part of something larger, while not fitting in anywhere.  both wanting and not wanting to be wanted.  needing to feel needed while not wanting to need anything or anyone.  just wanting something that's Mine that no one else can take away from me.  don't we all want that?  I guess some of us think that's our kids, but once they hit puberty, that dream dies, too.  I do hope my kid comes back around to wanting to be a part of my life, because I love and miss him.  in the meantime, I'm still trying to find out where I fit in, here.  still learning the language I need to be of real use to the people I work with, and get back to the work I was learning to do in my last community.  maybe there's a pattern here that I'm too close to see, yet.  maybe I am slowly weaving my way towards a dream that will find me content and fulfilled.  maybe I am healing from homelessness.

maybe I'm finally finding my way home.