Seven years ago, I was homeless.

I’m in dire straits financially. It seems everything has gone wrong. Last month, although I got a 9% increase at work, my phone was stolen, and after buying a new phone, paying off old debt, and giving a certain person that I care for more money that I could afford, several of my debit orders failed. Besides that, I’m supposed to apply for a home loan today, since the owner of the apartment I’m renting is selling it and I have first option. I’m almost certain the loan application will be declined. Everything is just so fucked and I don’t know how to fix it.

But let’s put this into perspective…

Edit: How time flies… Actually, seven years ago, I was nearly finished at rehab. So I was homeless just over seven years ago. Corrected the title to “Seven years ago…”, won’t fix the URL since it is already shared.

Seven years ago, I was homeless. I’d lost the place we were living in, I had voices in my head all the time, and myself, together with my girlfriend and one year old son, were staying in a single room behind an abandoned house with a drug dealer. I was also on a final written warning at my job.

She ended up sleeping with him, in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. I had nowhere to go, no friends left, and no options. Between trying half-heartedly to keep my job while ignoring the voices, I was on the phone with social services, trying to get my own child removed. That’s how bad it was. Every day was the same… Go to work, try to do my work while I was too high to perform, then come down in the afternoon and spend most of the rest of the day crying in the toilet.

The end of every month was the same… even though all I wanted was to get my son out of there and go to rehab, somehow my money would be stolen and spent on drugs, which I then ended up using too because of my addiction. Once, after getting our son out of there, through an arrangement with a family member and Child Welfare (not my preferred option but I was out of other options), I even rented a room in the local backpackers, and we moved there in the evening. The next day, after I returned from work, I found that he’d managed to get someone to call them impersonating me, stating that I’d changed my mind and wanted my money back. Then she had gone there with him to collect the money, so they wouldn’t even believe me when I explained that I hadn’t called.

In the end, my way out was as crazy as my life at the time. I had to taunt the guy, manipulate him into beating me up, and not fight back, so that word could get to my family member and arrangements could be made to take me to rehab. And that, the very much shortened version, was the end of my months of being homeless. I did not manage to stay clean after my stint in rehab, but did get it right without having to go to rehab again (and I really couldn’t stand the thought of going through that much humiliation even once more – so I cleaned up on my own in September 2013). I’ll spare you the details today.

The point is, as bad as things seem now, my problems are normal. I have my son back, and I’m doing a good job of raising him myself, I think. He’s been back for more than a year now. I’m a couple of days short of three years and five months clean. All things are relative? It’s still shit being broke.

2 thoughts on “Seven years ago, I was homeless.

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