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4/13/2017+ Living in a homeless shelter
Apr. 14th, 2017 11:26 pmI really wanted to take a moment to jot down my thoughts and sort of document the process of transitioning from our old apartment into a family shelter. It's been a trying few days. Weeks really. Months? Years? I suppose things have been trying for a while, but in different ways.
It's been about 24 hours since we settled here. I want to keep this post short because, well, I'm tired. It's 11:00pm on the first full day and we've been commuting long distances, a lot of the time with heavy bags, from one borough to the next for the past few days.
Before I explain everything that has happened this week, the day-by-day of what occurred since entering DHS (Dept. of Homeless Services), I want to say that yes, it is as *bad* as many say it is, but it is tolerable, and with time, I can see adjustments being made.
Tues: At this point, we knew that the marshal's would be coming on Thursday and at that point, we needed to make a decision as to how we would spent the last few days we had in our apartment. The most logical solution at the time would be to simply go to DHS already. We were turned away. Until the marshal's throw us out, we're technically not homeless. We ended up seeing a movie that day. The commute to DHS is a pain, and we didn't want it to be a complete waste.
Wed: With luggage and Luna, we trekked to Brooklyn by train, a $70 trip, to put our belongings and our cat in good hands.
Thurs: After light cleaning, we left our keys and departed with more bags to DHS where we began in-take. From 9:30a till 9:00p that same night, we lugged around our belongings with us before finally getting a late night intake.
It is now 11:17p Friday night, and I gotta say, I'm physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. This has felt, quite literally, like watching your entire life crumble and trying to juggle a million tiny pieces - trying to keep it together, to be brave, to have something within you to go on, that simply is barely not there. From leaving Luna, to having your entire life reduced to 3 luggage's...it's hard. It feels like utter and complete failure. There is a level of shame in it too. A part of me can't believe we *let* this happen.
Then today, I talked to a woman and her mother about how terrified they were/are, yet, how blessed they feel. It kind of put things in perspective for me. It could, 110% be A LOT worse, but I am grateful for the small and seemingly insignificant good fortunes. I think instead of failure, I really should look at all of this as simply another chance. I should look at it as possibility. Opportunity. Change is never pleasant. But, this change, it was inevitable, and completely necessary.
It's time to make a new plan. At this point, the only direction we are literally capable of going, is up.
More later.
It's been about 24 hours since we settled here. I want to keep this post short because, well, I'm tired. It's 11:00pm on the first full day and we've been commuting long distances, a lot of the time with heavy bags, from one borough to the next for the past few days.
Before I explain everything that has happened this week, the day-by-day of what occurred since entering DHS (Dept. of Homeless Services), I want to say that yes, it is as *bad* as many say it is, but it is tolerable, and with time, I can see adjustments being made.
Tues: At this point, we knew that the marshal's would be coming on Thursday and at that point, we needed to make a decision as to how we would spent the last few days we had in our apartment. The most logical solution at the time would be to simply go to DHS already. We were turned away. Until the marshal's throw us out, we're technically not homeless. We ended up seeing a movie that day. The commute to DHS is a pain, and we didn't want it to be a complete waste.
Wed: With luggage and Luna, we trekked to Brooklyn by train, a $70 trip, to put our belongings and our cat in good hands.
Thurs: After light cleaning, we left our keys and departed with more bags to DHS where we began in-take. From 9:30a till 9:00p that same night, we lugged around our belongings with us before finally getting a late night intake.
It is now 11:17p Friday night, and I gotta say, I'm physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. This has felt, quite literally, like watching your entire life crumble and trying to juggle a million tiny pieces - trying to keep it together, to be brave, to have something within you to go on, that simply is barely not there. From leaving Luna, to having your entire life reduced to 3 luggage's...it's hard. It feels like utter and complete failure. There is a level of shame in it too. A part of me can't believe we *let* this happen.
Then today, I talked to a woman and her mother about how terrified they were/are, yet, how blessed they feel. It kind of put things in perspective for me. It could, 110% be A LOT worse, but I am grateful for the small and seemingly insignificant good fortunes. I think instead of failure, I really should look at all of this as simply another chance. I should look at it as possibility. Opportunity. Change is never pleasant. But, this change, it was inevitable, and completely necessary.
It's time to make a new plan. At this point, the only direction we are literally capable of going, is up.
More later.
