Reflection

It’s a cold November night in New Hampshire, there is a blizzard in full effect, and the parking lot where I am parked is fairly empty besides the few die hard people hitting the gym in this harsh weather. Having just attended the gym myself, and after getting my daily shower there, I am now hunkered down in my SUV for the night. This parking lot has pretty much become my home this winter. After being bothered by the police several times in other locations, I have found success, and a little security staying in my RAV4 outside the 24 hour gym. It’s easy to blend in here with all the other gym goers and mall employees cars being parked for long periods of time. This night is stressful though, the winter weather has called out all the city plow trucks and they are beeping, and scraping the pavement all around my vehicle. I tell myself that it will be morning soon and that as long as I can survive the night, I can make it through one more day. I stay huddled down under my mummy bag, squeezing my dog tightly, closing my eyes hard trying to stay calm and go to sleep. But tonight I can’t sleep. I feel hopeless and ashamed of my life situation. I think back on happier times when I had a home with my little girl, who is now 10 and living with my mom. I’m trying hard to hold on to being a mom by sleeping in a town an hour away from my job so I can see my daughter several nights a week, but at the end of every night I still end up here, in this parking lot, away from her.

Tonight someone knocks on my snow covered window, I know it's a plow driver who wants me to move my car, but I just pretend I’m not in there and huddle down farther into my sleeping bag, squeezing my dog tighter. The plow man quickly gives up and goes away, returning to the heated cabin of the mega plow he is driving. It’s already almost midnight, I have to be up for work at 6 am, and the beeping is loud, accompanied by flashing lights and scraping sounds from the plow dragging across the pavement directly outside my car. It’s overwhelming, it’s scary, and it’s cold inside my car at just above 5 degrees. On this night I will cry myself to sleep, just like I have many other times before, but tonight feels awful. I never know if I am safe, I never know if I’ll sleep undisturbed, I don’t know if anyone knows I am in my car, and who might try to break in and hurt me. When my fear feels overwhelming, I start repeating the mantra I have created for myself to cope, “one more night, you just have to make it through to the morning”. Breaking my struggle up into a matter of hours gets me through the worst moments of each passing day.

The next morning I woke up and went to work like I always do. And today, one year after that night I have a home, my dog, my daughter, and a man who treats me with care and will make sure I never become homeless again. I’ve left that time in my life behind me now, but I still hold on to my mantra “one more night”. Whenever times are tough, I know I can make it. I know that if I could make it through that terrible time, I can make it through just about anything.

I wrote this story to remind everyone that homeless people are just regular people, I wasn’t a drug addict, or unemployed, I was just a person struggling to get by, and this time the struggle got the best of my efforts. We are not perfect humans, we are all only choices, unavoidable situations, or an illness away from dramatic changes in our lives. When you see a homeless person on the street you should try to recognize that they could be yourself, someone you once knew, or someone you currently know and love. As the cost of living gets higher, and income stays the same as it has been for 20 years, many people are at risk of becoming homeless. We must all do whatever we can to instill hope in the hopeless, provide love to the needy, and take care of one another. I have many people to thank for my success, yes I did the work, but I could never have done it without people cheering me on. Never underestimate the power of your words and small acts of kindness to change the course of someone else's life. That is why I am here sharing this story. It’s something I've turned over in my mind many times because I believe that sharing our stories with each other brings us closer together, shows insights, and perspectives we might never have had in our own life experience. It’s easy to judge the homeless, we say they have made wrong choices with their lives, but I say wrong choices don’t determine whether or not we deserve the basic human right to a warm and safe place to live. We have all made “bad” choices, we have all had an illness, and experienced struggle in our lives. On the inside, we are all the same, and I hope that my story will encourage you to look out and be there for the people in your community who are struggling with the many (and varied) barriers to having a secure living situation. It’s not our job to judge, it is only our job to be understanding and recognize that we are all human.