by Kenyota
Content warning: This piece contains a reference to suicide.
I was homeless on the streets of San Francisco, and in several cities throughout the Bay Area, for over a decade. During those years I experienced what it felt like to be a non-person. I received the harsh stares, societal shunning and feelings of inadequacy that are common among those considered lost in the world of the unhoused. During this decades-long journey I felt the absence of hope as I saw my dreams drift from my ability to hold them. I could not imagine a life of love, acceptance or stability. My battle with chronic addiction, recidivism and rejection took its toll on me and I saw suicide as the only way to improve my situation. So, I attempted to end my life on a lonely March morning.
Obviously, I fell short of my intended goal, and for that I can only credit the watchful eye of someone who cared enough to alert medical staff that I might have done harm to myself amongst the bushes I had hid myself in. I woke up in a hospital with nurses and doctors attempting to save me. I realized then, I had failed. I couldn’t even off myself without it going wrong. My life was a mess before the attempt—what was it to be now that I was still alive ?
Circumstances notwithstanding, I have always been of the belief that I was completely responsible for the condition of my life. I grew up with the understanding that I made my life hell and others were not to blame. That’s a noble thought but a bitter pill to swallow when I came to see that my life was littered with intentions which were never realized and that confusion was my unwanted companion. For brevity’s sake, I’ll simply share that I lived in a way that was dangerous and prodigal. I was unemployable due to my chronic substance abuse, my constant trouble with the law and my unwillingness to responsibility for the choices I was making. Every move I made turned out to be the wrong one and I found very few who wanted to help me find my way.
Because of my involvement with law enforcement, recidivism sunk its claws into me. My life resembled a merry-go-round of incarceration and short-lived freedom. After more than seven supervisory violations I was completely without a solution. I knew if I continued on the road I had been traveling, I was on my way to a bleak future which consisted of a cold cell. I desperately needed resources such as housing, mental health counseling and treatment from self-inflicted PTSD, and the other real world troubles faced by those caught up in the madness I was responsible for creating.
Although I knew the future looked bleak I could not find it in me to do better. I used more, became more unhinged mentally and blamed no one. I was always aware of the responsibility I was ignoring but I also knew a critical fact: I needed some help, but from where and from whom? Alameda County, although beautiful, fails in the human resource arena. With one shelter that can hold less than thirty people, Oakland is a difficult place to find housing. This understanding moved me to throw caution to the wind and completely disregard my probation obligations by absconding to San Francisco. And it was here that my life began to take a different course.
In a word, I was on the lam! If I ran into the law, I would be guaranteed a jail cell. The decision to run from my responsibilities was not new to me. I was a habitual runner. However, I had to find a way to live more predictably, responsibly and lawfully if I were to experience any success from my choice. I was in San Francisco and I quickly availed myself to services that were impossible to find in Oakland. I checked into a shelter and the experience taught me to be appreciative for what little they can provide. The shelter provided me a place to stay warm, gather necessities, and begin setting goals. It also set the stage for my placement in permanent housing in an SRO.
After receiving notice that I was going to be housed I expressed apprehension and my personal fear of failure to shelter staff. I felt that I was going to blow my housing opportunity through my chronic addiction and poor decision-making. I saw myself getting eventually evicted and back on the streets and, although the shelter was far from ideal, at least I wouldn’t lose my bed.
That’s when a miracle occurred: That staff member told me that I was wrong about my future. She told me that I was going to make it and I would do just fine. It wasn’t her encouraging words that convinced me, it was the fact that she honestly believed in me. Living as I had been, I found that I could think of no one who took me seriously, let alone actually believe in my abilities to forge a better life in San Francisco. When I left the shelter I left with the confidence that I could regain a life I had only imagined. A life free of loss and unspeakable loneliness.
Permanent housing provided me the opportunity to dream once again. After more than fifteen years of unemployment, I found work as a brand ambassador for a temporary employment agency and I have been goal-setting since. I enrolled back in college to pursue my degree as a student at the University of Arkansas Grantham and completed two semesters before taking a break.
If it had not been for the assistance provided by the citizens of this city I don’t know what my end would have been. There are no words which convey the gratitude I feel every day when I wake up in a place to call my own. I have learned the importance of shaking off the complacency that defined my previous manner of living and became content with what I have and what I have to offer. I utilize my time by sharing my experiences and what has worked for me the past three years in becoming the best example of an individual I can be. I volunteer for an organization which provides housing support and other resources to the interested and I find that to be the most rewarding part of my new life. It’s far from perfect but it’s measurably better than it was. With faith and honesty, I can overcome my personal demons which have been troublesome.
I have a message for those who are unhoused in the city: There’s power in the words and things we do. We can speak a lot of things into existence, both good and bad, but if we don’t put forth any effort behind those words then we are nothing more than our best unfulfilled intentions. In other words, we all have the opportunity for a better tomorrow if we take advantage of the resources others have painstakingly provided. I had to shake my feelings of entitlement to see that I was only limiting myself by thinking anyone’s sympathy could make me a better individual. That had to come from within.
In closing, I want to offer what I have been provided, so if my brief story resonates then please feel free to contact me via the Supportive Housing and Overdose Prevention Network, which you can find online, and I’ll be more than happy to share the knowledge I’ve gained by utilizing the resources available throughout the city.
