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My Experience Noticing Homelessness

And my work with the homeless

By Denise E LindquistPublished about a year ago • 3 min read
My Experience Noticing Homelessness
Photo by Brandi Alexandra on Unsplash

Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck prompts — When you see a person experiencing homelessness holding a sign on the corner, what do you think, feel, do? Write about it for ten minutes.

Tell me about one specific person. You haven’t paid attention? Look next time, and tell me about him, her or them.

I grew up in the sixties and met many people who were panhandling in my neighborhood. That didn’t mean they were homeless. Some were. My neighborhood wasn’t far from where the drug and alcohol people lived, who were homeless. It wasn’t always clear to me, though.

Years later, when moving to northern Minnesota, I did not experience homelessness in that way that I was aware of. I saw many people living in shared housing. Relatives. We had family staying at different times at our home, but I never considered that homelessness.

As a young adult, I saw homelessness again. I would have something in the car to hand off when I would drive up to someone who was “signing”. I knew that didn’t always mean that person was homeless, and sometimes it was maybe their job to make a living in that way.

I decided once I was in recovery to not pass on money contributing to someone else’s drug or alcohol problem, but rather leave something to eat, no alcoholic beverage, but rather clothing, or needed supplies.

A signing person is holding a sign at a morning stop, asking for help, usually holding a cart or something to carry their items. Usually disheveled and with sad eyes. Sometimes with a pet. Most often, out there when people are on their way to work.

I always expected someone, and sometimes I would forget to bring something. I wanted to help and not hurt. Nothing was ever turned down, and I was always thanked for whatever I could leave. I have never understood homelessness. It shouldn’t be happening.

Photo by Chayene Rafaela on Unsplash

Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck prompts — Do you know someone who has been or is homeless? Have you been? Tell me.

There is the painful, concrete truth of homelessness. There is also the feeling that you personally don’t belong any place — what’s that like?

I have never been homeless, unless we include not feeling at home. Living in the city was my first experience, then moving to the country. I have lived in both places over my lifetime. Experiencing racism when growing up often gave me the feeling of homelessness.

I have always had a physical building, apartment, or house to go to sleep and live in. I have known many who have not had this throughout their life, however. I didn’t always know of homelessness and wasn’t looking for it.

Last winter, I was appalled by all the homelessness in the coldest part of winter when I was in an urban area, and people were outdoors carrying blankets and their belongings the next morning.

When I went to work at an outpatient treatment center in the urban area many years ago, I didn’t expect that women and children would be coming to outpatient treatment and be homeless. Many of the chronic women I worked with were couch-hopping. Staying here and there with friends.

Would inpatient treatment be more appropriate for these program participants? Yes. But if I didn’t know, I didn’t know. Once I knew, I established an apartment option for those program participants in the outpatient building. That helped.

Much of the time, we would have three families (women and children) sharing that housing during their program stay. Then, it was important that housing was added to their goals, and that was something our staff would help with by the time they were leaving the program.

It is important to know that you can’t always tell who is homeless, and it doesn’t mean they are not trying, or don’t want help. That has to be one of the hardest lifestyles there is. It is a basic survival daily.

~~~~

Published first by Mercury Press, on medium.com

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About the Creator

Denise E Lindquist

Retired, working part-time as a Native American culture consultant. I have an MSE, and an ABD. I write on Vocal, and Facebook. Poetry, non-fiction mostly, and working on fiction. Wife, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother.

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    Written by Denise E Lindquist