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Being Homeless

What led to this, what was it like...And: How Did I Get Out of This Situation

By Joseph WillsonPublished 4 years ago 7 min read
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There was a sense of mystery for me in terms of what was that final straw that broke the camel's back when speaking of my homelessness. Leading up to the issue was without doubt- directly in relation to my years long drinking problem. I am indeed an alcoholic, now in recovery some 6+ years this was tantamount to how I became homeless.

I have often wondered why I became a drunk, I still do some days. Its not as if I was abused as a child. I grew up in an upper middle-class family and wanted for nothing. Four brothers and sisters, a mother and father that loved their children yet simply did not display such emotions. Childhood for the most part was uneventful.

In the end, the loss of my job because of the drink, the loneliness from my self-imposed isolation so I could indeed drink. The lack of contact with my daughter because I drank. The knowing I had a serious issue to deal with yet refused to acknowledge this fact culminating in that final binge of around a week- yet those memories are still unclear.

That final, fateful night, passed out and being awoken to a flooded apartment, large industrial fans blowing trying to dry the carpets before they molded. The landlady roaming around so furious she could not even look me in the eye. An environmental cleaning crew trying to erase the mess I had made the previous evening.

Seems I had fallen in the bathroom, head first into the toilet tank which shattered spilling water all over the floor. To make matters worse, on my way down, after hitting the tank, I fell even further to the floor hitting my head also on the water shut-off valve, breaking it open and leaving a free flow of water from the pipe for roughly 3 hours before anyone noticed and called for help.

Needless to say- I had 72 hours to vacate the premises. After putting all my stuff in storage within the next two days, I was for all intents and purposes- homeless. I had nowhere I could turn. No family and no real friends as I had alienated them all with my constant drinking. There was just no way I could shack up with anyone, even for a couple of days.

Of course, the last of my money went to renting the storage locker, so being broke till the next unemployment cheque, I was screwed. I could not even go to the local hostel for a few nights. The park is where I ended up for the next short while and being late February, it was bloody cold. How did I fight the cold? I walked most of the night to keep warm. When I got tired, I slept in bus shelters, under bushes and the like. I did have a blanket, so some protection anyway.

In my state of mind and financially there was simply no way I would have been able to find another place to rent. Having basically no income, just what little was left on an E.I. claim, no prospects for work not that anyone would hire me in the state I was in regardless. I knew this and yet was still refusing to do anything about it. I knew I needed to somehow get out of the cold, I could not survive on the street.

In all reality my homelessness was not the sort that one would think of when looking at homelessness. I was not living on the street for a really extended length of time. I was lucky I guess that my 'street time' was only really- about two weeks total. Living outside in the middle of winter is brutal. Indeed luckily, I was accepted into a shelter quite quickly considering the city I live in only had 2 at the time.

Even though I now had a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in and three meals a day, I was still homeless and would remain so for another 2 years give or take. This shelter had open I.V. drug use and drinking on the premises. Although this was of course against all regulations of the facility it was so understaffed it could not be regulated properly enough. At the end of that month I was free to sign up for an extension but the odds of getting another month of shelter in an actual room were slim due to a waiting list, I ended up on the floor on a mat.

At this time, I approached the only other option available to me which was The Salvation Army. Thankfully being a very cold evening the woman at the front desk took pity on me and offered me a spot on the floor of the chapel for the night- alone. This was a damn sight better than the cold tile floor with 30 others mostly using, all around me in the previous shelter. The next morning I was introduced to the intake worker/counselor and he told me that although their shelter was full I would be next on the list to get a bed, still though, the rest of the facilities were open to me (showers, meals, a library of sorts, and I could just hang out in the common rooms out of the cold).

Throughout this month and a half to this point there was a large computer incident taking place with Social Services and Employment Insurance and most other government agencies, so payments were affected, hence I was indeed very broke. The same intake worker after getting me into a dorm room of no less than 30 others needed to know what I planned to do to get my life back on track. He was very aware of my addiction without me having said a word to him and he did broach the subject very clearly.

One of the conditions of his giving me shelter free of charge was that I deal with my addiction. After some discussion he informed me he would be able to get me into another facility, an addictions treatment facility on the lower mainland, all I had to do was get there. I had been looking for something of this nature and had been through one other centre year's previous, to no avail, so even though I was reluctant, I knew this is what I needed.

Although there were many factors leading up to entering this facility, I will not go into the gory details here as they are redundant to the usefulness of this exercise. I made it to Vancouver, was checked in and this is where I remained for the next 14 months of my life starting in a dorm of 6, then to a double room and finally a room of my own no bigger really than a walk-in closet, at least it was my own space.

The rules and regulations for staying here were quite harsh and were indeed followed to the letter or you were out the door. No exceptions. Something I saw take place many a time in my stay. Heartbreaking in so many ways but we were all there for one purpose only- to get sober.

Sober I became. As unpleasant as my surroundings were initially. As much of a wake-up call as this was for me, had I not done this when I had I would certainly be dead. My first three months were brutal, this was the longest hangover I have had in my lifetime but also the last. The daily counseling, the group therapy Monday to Friday, the ability to deal with 50 other men in the same condition I had found myself was excruciating and unpleasant at times. But I persevered, I had too, there was only 1 way to get myself back on my feet and that was sobriety.

After 14 months in the treatment program I was finally of a mindset where I believed with some help, some vital support, I was able to leave the facility and move into a place of my own. Personally, I could not call this a home as I knew this was a temporary fix. I would not find a place of my own for some time yet. It was at this point I went to work for the facility I had just moved out of, in the kitchens of The Salvation Army Addictions and Treatment Facility in Vancouver where I would stay for another 3.5 years. It was at that time I made the move back to where the homelessness had all started for me. As a matter of fact, right down the street. I can literally see the place I was evicted from some 5 years earlier- from my 4th floor balcony.

Was this intentional? Damn straight it was...

In answer to the question, 'How did I get out of this situation?' I took the opportunity to look deep down inside myself, to understand where the depression and the inner pain had all stemmed from, to deal with the absolute utter shame I had for destroying my life in the fashion I had from 25+ years on the sauce and to re-invent myself from the ground up. I became in essence- the person I had always been, just a better alcohol-free version. 6+ years sober and counting and I could not be happier...

addiction
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About the Creator

Joseph Willson

JP Willson is an accomplished chef who's worked in some of Vancouver and Victoria's most prestigious kitchens. Now as an author of two self-help books while living and working in Victoria, British Columbia. Life has become far from ordinary

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