A little too real

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (1 Comments)

Two days ago I submitted my story to a single mother’s group online because they had advertised that they were looking for real stories from single mothers. I of course submitted the following:

“I am still a mother

I’m not that kind of person you often hear about. I’m neither an addict nor a mental health patient. I don’t smoke and I don’t drink. I don’t sleep around and I’m not lazy. I’m not a high school drop out and have never been a pregnant teen. I’m not a quitter, a liar or a thief.

I am a homeless mother.

In April of 2004, when I no longer had a job and used up my savings and monies from my 401K plan, I bought a used 1981 Minnie Winnebago with my tax refund and moved my nine year old and one and half year old into it. Here in Seattle, there’s no such thing as Section 8 for help with housing as our state has been closed to applications for years now. I called shelter after shelter only to be turned away because more people than ever are using them and there aren’t enough built to handle the scores of people entering homelessness. I met with our local welfare office, the last place I wanted to visit, and was told by the social worker that they couldn’t do anything to stop us from being omeless but if I wanted to sell our only shelter and transportation, I could qualify for $400.00 a month in cash. I was then given a food stamp card and sent on my way. I prayed child support for my eldest would show up but to
this day it hasn’t.

For the first several months in our new “home”, I quickly learned just how “as is” the Minnie Winnie was as I read the owner’s manual to figure out what worked and what didn’t. I learned by surprise that the master cylinder on the
brakes needed to be replaced when I went down a hill and couldn’t stop. I learned how to replace an alternator on my own. I paid to have the brakes, generator, voltage regulator, and tires replaced. My plan was to make the Winnebago as safe and livable as possible while trying to get another job and hopefully save enough money to get our lives back. Maybe it would only be a temporary situation lasting a year or two I thought.

In the meantime I worked various jobs through temp agencies, never telling my employers about my living arrangements and definitely never telling them that I was working two jobs every time I got the chance. One day though, my body caught up with me. I happened to be working at a financial services company during the day and had just clocked out. As I headed to the elevators, my peripheral vision started getting watery and a supervisor walking by caught me by the arm and asked if I was alright. I didn’t even realize I was sliding down the wall but I shook it off and told her I would be fine. I didn’t say I say I had to be since I couldn’t afford to be late to the next job.

I made it out to the far end of the parking lot since that was where I always put the RV.  I was on my way to my babysitter’s house but halfway there, I felt the left side of my face, then arm go numb. I almost panicked because I was thinking I might be having a stroke or heart attack. I told myself to stay calm and find a place to pull over in case I cause an accident. I remembered a garage nearby that my babysitter’s husband had told me about since the owner was a friend of his. By the time I reached the garage, I was vomiting and couldn’t move my left arm. I could barely stand up and my speech was slurred but I managed to get the mechanic to call my babysitter. Her husband rushed over and took me to the nearest hospital. At first I wasn’t going to go since I had no insurance and knew the hospital wasn’t going to be cheap but my babysitter’s husband made me go anyway. The hospital kept me for observation for about six hours before letting me go. I don’t remember anything else after that except that a few days later I woke up in my babysitter’s room with her holding a cup of water to my mouth. My head was pounding and all I wanted to do was vomit. My face felt numb and for some reason my motor skills were really shaky. My head kept shaking and I could barely talk. All I could think about was the RV getting towed so I tried to sit up but my babysitter pushed me back down and said her husband had talked to the owner of the garage so it was ok to be there until I got back on my feet.

The next day I made myself get up and walk around because I didn’t want to get my babysitter’s family in trouble with their apartment landlord’s who didn’t like me driving the Winnebago through the complex when I came to pick my kids up. Even though my babysitter and her husband wanted me to stay for awhile, I went back to the RV because I didn’t want to be an inconvenience to them. Needless to say I couldn’t work when I could barely walk or keep my head from shaking side to side. The hospital referred me to a local neurologist to find out why I got paralysis with a major migraine. It took me about 10 days or so to recover from whatever this was and I did that by sleeping in the RV at parks during the time my eldest was in school and my youngest was with the babysitter. Eventually I lost the temp job I had and once again found myself looking for work.

In the meantime, the RV needed gas to keep us moving since police harassment is an everyday concern when you live out of your vehicle. I went to local plasma centers to sell my blood for gas money.  About 8 months went by before I landed a part-time position at a local newspaper. I couldn’t afford daycare so working the graveyard shift was perfect. The newspaper plant was located in a rural area and had a well lit parking lot. I parked the RV where I could see it from the warehouse windows since my kids slept in the upper bunk while I worked. My shift ended early enough that I had time to get them breakfast and ready for school. Because my eldest was embarrassed to be in a motor home, I would drop her off around the block from her school so that she could walk in without any of her friends seeing her get out of a Winnebago every morning.

I spent the days scanning want ads for a full-time day job as it soon became apparent with the gas hikes that I would again need two jobs to survive. I took my toddler to the parks and hung out with her in public libraries when the weather wasn’t so great. When it was time for dinner, I asked my eldest how her day went and reassured her that everything would be alright and this is only a temporary situation for us. All the consoling I did couldn’t keep her from feeling angry and depressed. She asked why our relatives weren’t helping and how could the government let us live like this? Why wasn’t anybody helping us?

We met some interesting folks living out here and I was surprised to meet other families doing exactly what we were doing. At a Wal-Mart parking lot, we met a family that had come down from Alaska looking for work. They too were living out of motor home but smaller than ours. I was impressed since my Minnie was only 21 feet long, bumper to bumper. When my eldest daughter saw that she wasn’t the only kid living this way, she felt a little better but struggled with the fact that we had no permanency. We also met another single mother living out of class “A” motor home the size of a bus and she told me how she raised both her boys out of it. She was close to retirement and her youngest son at the time was about 19 years old. They worked every day the way I did and saved what they could but the last time I saw them, she was still living out of her motor home. It was through this community of folks living out of motor homes and their cars that I learned where I could park for the night and where the rest stops were that had dumping stations for free. Some camp grounds only charged $5.00 to dump the sewage tanks on RV’s plus I could refill my water tank. The “community” also looked out for us by telling me what places were dangerous to be in and which neighborhoods had a lot of police harassment going on. It didn’t take long to learn how to be “invisible”.

In October of 2006, I landed a full-time day job with another national financial services company and was able to find daycare through a co-worker I befriended at the newspaper job. To this day we call her “Cousin Pam” because she went out of her way to treat us like family. She helped me to get my kids enrolled in the school district next to her house since my kids would be there all day. She told me about sales at local thrift stores to help us with school clothes and she enrolled my kids in programs that helped with school supplies and summer time free lunch programs. If it hadn’t been for “Cousin Pam”, I have no idea how I would’ve worked the day job we so desperately needed. It was a good thing I had that day job because a few months after I got it, the newspaper went out of business. My day job paid twice as much but I still could not save any money. All I could do was maintain living out of the Winnebago since it needed regular maintenance and the gas alone was eating whatever I could’ve saved.

I had been at my day job for over a year when an old complaint returned with a vengeance. This time, the migraine attacks were becoming more frequent and the shakiness had returned. I had bouts of numbness on the left side of my body and didn’t understand why these symptoms were coming back. I took advantage of my employer paid health insurance and went to specialists to figure out what was wrong with me.  At first they thought I had the beginnings of
Meniere ’s disease but extensive testing ruled that out. It wasn’t until a year ago that my doctor figured out I had hemiplegic migraines. I had one big attack that left me in serious trouble. I had to go to physical therapy to be able to
walk a straight line without falling due to vertigo that just would not go away. It took eighteen months to recover and needless to say, I exhausted FMLA and lost my job. I even tried to reapply to the same company only to never hear
from them again.

I could’ve given up and ended my life. I could’ve sunk into despair and hopelessness. I could’ve turned to prostitution, drugs, alcohol or violence. But I didn’t and continue to refuse going down that path because that’s not the kind of example I want my kids to see. When everything seemed hopeless I did the only thing I knew how to do; write. I sat behind the steering wheel of the Winnebago and poured all my feelings and thoughts onto paper. To keep my oldest daughter from sinking into depression, I wrote a book to keep her mind occupied on something other than being homeless.

It was through writing to an editor from Change.org that I got connected with a man named Mark Horvath. Thanks to him I’ve had the opportunity to share my story with more people than I ever thought possible. I felt honored when he asked me to manage We Are Visible which is an online community that helps the homeless connect through social media on the internet. I am still connecting with other people, have been on radio programs, have seen my writings on more sites than I can count and I am always amazed at how one story can impact so many other people. I am still homeless. I am still fighting for a better life and doing what I can to help other single mother’s out there keep their hopes alive.

I am not that stereotypical “bum” on a sidewalk corner asking for spare change. I am not that drunk lying on filth in an open alleyway. I am not a “welfare queen”. I am not asking to be pitied or handed a lifestyle. I am not less of a human being because of homelessness.

I am still a mother.”

The interesting thing about this site is that so far, they’veposted many stories but conveniently have skipped over mine. In all honestly, it’s exactly what I expected. I don’t take it personally because this isn’t the first time my story has been “overlooked”. There were times I joined in online conversations designed for single mothers but whenever I commented about my situation, it was if the room suddenly went quiet.

I am after all…a little too real.

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Getting by….

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness | Uncategorized - (2 Comments)

I recently read an article about getting by on $200.00 a month in food stamps. The author of the article is not homeless and not on any kind of state assistance so for her, this was a “challenging” experiment. For the thousands of homeless families and individuals who know what it is to live on less with no apparent end in sight, this is not a casual experiment but a living nightmare yet policy makers continue to make cutbacks to programs that are needed more than ever. Why? In a country that touts being a wealthy developed nation, why is giving the wealthy tax breaks more important than feeding the masses?

From the article, the author goes on to say that this was indeed a learning experience. For one thing she couldn’t shop at places like Whole Foods or where she usually shops. Of course not! Those places are expensive and when living on a budget, you make as many concessions as you can! Visiting food banks is something many of us have to do even with food stamps. Let me ask the reader this, have you ever visited a food bank? If so, did you notice a lack of healthy options such as fresh fruits and vegetables? Did you see a lot of cheap foods like Ramen, macaroni & cheese, bread, canned foods? I have only seen two food banks in my area that offer fresh produce donated from a farm with
surplus and only when in season. Not to offend anyone but for those who assume that people on food stamps are all overweight due to laziness, think again!

Here’s another tidbit of info that goes hand in hand with the topic of the food stamp program. JP Morgan profits from the food stamp program: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zf8v7RYk6Y

Not only that, Chase charges more in fees to recipients of welfare more than they do regular customers:http://www.realchangenews.org/index.php/site/archives/5597/

From my own experience I can tell you that with careful budgeting, occasional visits to the food banks and growing my own veggies in a community pea patch all help towards managing starvation but even then, that doesn’t always work. If I find myself in a neighborhood that doesn’t have many options outside of expensive convenience stores and a lack of food banks in the area or the food bank shutting down due to lack of donations, I will skip meals so that my kids won’t have to. That’s the reality of dwindling programs due to budget cuts that aren’t directly affecting policy makers willing to slash budgets at the expense of those who need them the most.

So you want a challenging experience? Go out and deliberately live homeless for a minimum of two weeks so that you can see firsthand just how little you can get by on. I guarantee it will be a real eye opener…..

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A Mother’s Day Reflection

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (2 Comments)

I woke up this morning with my seven year old grinning at me. She said “Happy Mother’s Day Mommy!” and handed me a homemade paper Chinese take-out box filled with crepe-paper flowers she made at school for me. I gave her a hug and a kiss and thanked her for her gift. Mother’s Day for me is a holiday I see with mixed emotions. Most of us are familiar with the scene of a mother surrounded by flowers and gifts from her family, sometimes with grandma included!

Today though, a very different image is emerging and it is far removed from a Hallmark greeting card holiday. According to the U.S. Census Bureau’s latest statistics, 1 in 4 mothers in America lives in poverty but what the Census does not tell you is that the government made poverty worse when the Personal Responsibility and Work Reconciliation Act was enacted in 1996 and again in 2006.This act ended the government’s obligation to provide minimum support to impoverished single heads of households, i.e., single parents.

Changes or “reforms” to welfare programs do little to help women out of poverty. Having a healthy economy with living wage jobs do that! Out
of all the industrialized nations on earth, the U.S. has the highest rates of poverty and much of this is due to focusing on profitability. In case you haven’t noticed, corporate America panders to the middle and upper class segment of society because they can afford to support a system designed to maximize profits for the already wealthy. For a single mother or father, the situation is worse.

Here’s an example given by Samantha Johnson in a piece she wrote called “Poverty, Single Mothers and the Working Poor”:
“A single mother with two children, in Oregon, qualifies for a maximum of just under $800.00 per month in cash assistance. Assuming a single
mother has food stamps, she is able to buy groceries. The $800.00 in cash assistance- which comes from a federal program called TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) would then be allocated to living expenses, rent, utilities, child care, etc. That amount of money is not enough to pay for basic necessities, and it’s only available for a maximum of 5 years. In the 1990′s, President Clinton put a limit on the amount of time a family can be on TANF when he reformed the welfare system. Once you’ve been on it for 5 years, you can never get the assistance again. A single mother receiving welfare is put in a position where she can either live on welfare until it expires, or she can attempt to better her life chances with an education. If she attempts to get educated, her welfare programs will be cut. If she attempts to find a job,
her welfare programs will be cut. The institutions put in place to “help” the working poor and single parents are the same institutions
that contribute to the amount of poverty in the US because they limit the ability of the poor to better themselves economically. These institutions are also responsible for demonizing the poor, particularly poor single mothers, and use the person blame approach. The institutions in government that are supposed to help single mothers only exacerbate the situation with bureaucracy and rules
that bind the individual to the program so it’s near impossible to achieve desirable social status or a college education. The only way one could do that, and still receive welfare benefits, is to lie.”

Even in a strong economy, the poverty rate among single mother families did not improve. A study done in 2001 by the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities showed that the assumption of moving mothers from welfare to work didn’t have the impact on poverty policy makers thought it would. Why? Because any increased earnings a mother makes is automatically offset by the declining safety net programs the government used to provide. For the folks who remained poor, the system pushed them further into poverty. I find it odd that people will ask how much it costs our nation to help single mothers in poverty yet do not ask what it will cost if we don’t.

For mothers living in poverty due to no familial support, lack of child support, loss of a job or health, I salute you for doing all that you can to take care of your children in an economy that does not support you.  Being in survival mode for extended periods of time while living in an emergency status is not easy and is more draining than you are given credit for yet you do it anyway for the sake of your kids. Please don’t lose hope and don’t give up. If we all stand together, we will make it through this.

I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day regardless!

 

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Freeloading on the minds of Americans

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (8 Comments)

In case you didn’t see it, John Stossel appeared on Bill O’Reilly’s show, the O’Reilly Factor stating that he “pretended” to be a homeless person and claims he would’ve made $23,000.00 a year at the rate he was “making it”. Since I am in the habit of not watching trash tv, I read an article on Mr. Stossel’s appearance on the O’Reilly Factor which brought many questions to mind.

First of all, exactly how did Mr. Stossel ”pretend” to be homeless? Did he choose to act out a preconceived notion of what HE thought homeless people are like? Why didn’t he “pretend” to be the homeless who dress, talk, work and act like everybody else who isn’t homeless? Calling the homeless “freeloaders” is strange talk from a man who once said “The biggest recipients of handouts are not poor people.”

I got news for you, Mr. Stossel, instead of pretending to be homeless, go talk to the homeless families that lost their jobs, then their homes but are working non-living wages because in case you haven’t noticed, too many are still unemployed or unemployable. Talk to those of us who know that begging will not get you $23,000.00 a year as you claim. The kind of rhetoric spewed by statements like yours does nothing to help people out of homelessness, rather it inspires more ignorance and apathy than ever.

How about putting your “investigative reporting” skills to good use and actually report on the facts of homelessness as they really are? Might be a good idea to do so before getting “body-slammed” by REAL homeless people who do not freeload on the minds of people who don’t know what homelessness is like.

Just sayin’…..

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You know it’s funny….

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (2 Comments)

You know it’s funny to see the expressions on other people’s faces when you tell them you’re homeless, especially when you run across old classmates or friends of family that didn’t know as much as they thought they did. Relax, I tell them. You were expecting to see someone who didn’t look like I do or maybe you thought I had relatives supporting me until I get back on my feet. Sorry to disappoint those preconceived notions.

I am no different from you it’s just that, I lost my job and there aren’t the social services you assumed were in place to catch us when we fall. Maybe you voted to defund programs because you thought the only people who benefited from them were drug addicts too far gone or lazy people who simply didn’t want to work. Maybe you thought that the puny amount of funds our government spends on social services is more than what the government spends outside this country.

Then there are those of you who look at me and wonder why I don’t just go out and live off some man as though that were the only option a woman has in getting a better life. Hasn’t the women’s movement gone beyond that kind of thinking by now? Having a man in your life does not guarantee your life will be any better….

I also think it’s funny when folks ask me how I’m doing even though I post status updates on this blog or on my Facebook page. If you really want to know, try reading. As far as donations go towards fixing the transmission on the mini-van, we are now up to $770.00 which is about 30% of the targeted goal of $2,500.00.

On my little book of poetry, 77 books were sold (Yay!) so I thank each and every one of you who bought and read them! The book I wrote for my oldest daughter, New Descendant, has only sold 5 copies so far but, that’s 5 people reading it and I’m grateful. I know how the book industry goes so it will be a while in getting my stories out to as many as I can, I just have to be patient!

In the meantime, I’m just like everyone else who is looking for full-time work that will enable me NOT to pay for childcare as it is too expensive. When I had two jobs, one of them was solely to pay for childcare.

If you’re reading this, do me a favor. Please don’t feel sorry for me, I’m not asking for pity. I’ve been through a lot worse and maybe sometime in the near future, my experiences with homelessness won’t be in vain. If you realize I’m homeless, don’t suddenly act as though I have a contagious disease, I don’t. I’m the same person you once knew, just in a difficult situation. If you want to help because you believe in the cause that homelessness can be ended, great! I salute you in your efforts to help out!

For the rest of the homeless nation, keep on fighting and don’t give up!

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Let me explain something to you

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (12 Comments)

Wow! Thank you to everyone who read the story ran in The Huffington Post. Thank you for sending me your emails and words of encouragement. I took a look at some of the comments on that Huffington Post and to those with less than savory attitudes, let me explain something to you…..

Personal responsiblity is something I do practice every day but since you don’t know me but feel you have the “right” to make comments about what you don’t know, thank you. Thank you for telling the world that you can’t see past your own paradigms. Thank you for jumping to conclusions about my life as I’m sure you were there for every moment of it. Thank you for assuming that I must’ve been on welfare all my life and have expectations of having a life handed to me. Thanks again for assuming that I haven’t fought for child support which by the way, doesn’t mean it can be collected from a deadbeat. One article on my life doesn’t even scratch the surface. I never said I was a victim, just one woman showing others that things can be better.

Your negative comments don’t faze me a bit. In fact, your very attitudes are what keeps the fight in me alive. You have inspired me to write a little something I like to call “Justifiable hypocrisy”.

Justifiable hypocrisy

Funny but not funny is how I see it

All these comments floating around

Why, everyone has an opinion

On who they think I am

 

I wonder if it occurs to them

While pointing their fingers at me

They are saying more about themselves

And the kinds of things they believe

 

Everyone’s got an opinion on what my life has been

But I don’t remember seeing them around

Through all my thicks and thins

I’m sure they meant to be there

 

Oh and while you’re on your soap box

The one that scrubs you so clean

Tell me what gives you the power

To talk so self righteously

 

About people you don’t really know

Or gave a damn about in the first place

Maybe if you took the time to find out

You wouldn’t have all that egg on your face

 

Opinions come and go so this is nothing new

In fact I was expecting it

So very nice of you

But don’t expect any thank you’s

 

I know where I’ve been and what I’ve done

So I’ll be just fine

It’s you I’m worried about

Because you are so very behind

 

And I refuse to be shoved into

That closet where you put

Everything you don’t want to deal with

Because out of sight is out of mind

 

I gotta do what I know is right

Even if you can’t or refuse to see

How useless it is to buy your

Justifiable hypocrisy

 

For the rest of us, keep your heads up and keep on fighting but while you’re at it, be careful about making judgements, nobody made you God.

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Memories of Minnie

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (0 Comments)

I was going through some pictures of mine to share with you all and found one of the Minnie Winnebago we lived out of for five years. When we first became homeless and started living out of it, my youngest was only one and half years old. My oldest was only about 9 years old then. To my youngest, the rv was home. It wasn’t until we came to Caly’s that I realized just how much of an impact the rv was on my youngest until the first night over here she said..”I don’t like it in here, I want to go back to OUR house, the rv.” That’s when it hit me that her memories of what “home” is are based on the three of us living out an old Minnie Winnebago. She was only 21 feet long from bumper to bumper but she was ours and as long as I took care of her, she took care of us.

See at the time, I couldn’t afford childcare as it was $900.00 a month for both kids and my rent was only $460.00. Add to this the absence of child support and losing your job because you slipped a disc in your back and voila! You have the makings of homelessness. I knew it was coming and in April of 2004, we moved from a two-bedroom apartment into the Minnie. All the furniture we had I either sold at a yard sale or donated to neighbors and thrift stores. Everything else went into a small storage unit. What little money I had I used for gas while waiting to get food stamps and basic health care through the state. In the meantime, I knew I had to find work and fast!

I managed to find a part-time job working for a now extinct newspaper plant in Kent. My shift started at midnight and the place had its own private parking lot that was fairly secure. The plant was in a rural area so it was quiet and I made sure to park the rv where I could see it from the warehouse windows. My kids slept while I worked and in the morning, I would drive to the nearest grocery store to get them something for breakfast before taking my oldest daughter to school. She was so embarrassed by the rv that she would ask me to park down the street so she could walk to school and not be seen by her classmates. I did so.

During this time, I had managed to save a little money to let my youngest daughter have a birthday party. We got lucky that year and had an unusually early summer and to hide the fact that we couldn’t afford a “real birthday party”, I invited friends and relatives to a neighborhood park for a “Summer Time Theme Party.” I found some balloons at a dollar store (in fact I think the paper plates and decorations were all from a dollar store!) and did the best I could at decorating a covered picnic area. I was able to borrow a friend’s kitchen to bake a “Hello Kitty” cake and to make it look store-bought, I went down to a local grocery store and to my surprise, they gave me a plastic cake box for free. To this day, my youngest has no idea that I made it and she still considers her fifth birthday party to be the best birthday she’s ever had!

I had parked the rv on the far side of the park so as not to bring attention to how we were living. From looking at these pictures, could you?

 

As for my oldest..well the memories aren’t so fond. For her, living out of the rv was a nightmare with no end in sight. She didn’t care about going to school since school was a never-ending exercise in dread. What if her peers found out she lived in a run down rv? This pic pretty much sums up her attitude about living out of a vehicle:

I know it’s been hard for them both and I have done everything I could to keep them busy with all the other activities in life that everyone else has but all that seems to hinge on money. You need money for gas, money to eat, money to do just about everything but the one thing money could not buy was me. It wasn’t long after these photos were taken that I landed a job in financial services with a national company. They didn’t know I had another job working nights at the newspaper and I had no intention of telling them until my body forced me to. That’s when the migraine seizures started. I can remember leaving my day job feeling a little funny. A friend and supervisor caught me by the arm and asked me if I was alright. She was about to call an ambulance but I shook it off and said I could drive myself to the nearest hospital. I almost made it up Smith hill in Kent when the left side of my body went numb. The first thing I thought was that I was having a stroke because I couldn’t feel the left side of my arm and I was trying to drive steer with my right. My symptoms got worse as I drove on but I was able to call my friend who had just started babysitting for me to tell her that I was parking the rv at a local garage. Thank goodness her husband knew the garage owner and he allowed me to park the rv at his shop until I got back from the E.R. . By the time my babysitter’s husband got me to the emergency room, my speech was slurred and I was vomiting. I couldn’t move my hands and he had to help me sign forms. I stayed at the hospital for six hours.

I don’t remember much after that except for when I woke up in my babysitter’s room. She was holding my head up trying to get me to drink something. It took me two weeks to be able to stand up but I was so dizzy I couldn’t stay up without help. The pain in my head was like a jack hammer but I was determined to get back to my rv because I could not afford to have it towed.

Eventually, Minnie needed more repairs than I could afford so last July, I sold her to a mechanic living out of his car. I got him to tell me his story and he said he just got out of a bad divorce and he was living out of his car at his place of employment in Seattle. His employer knew he was homeless with his dog and at least the garage was safer than the streets. I sold the rv to him for $200.00. At least this guy could fix it better than I could.

It was only by a sheer stroke of luck that Caly’s neighbor decided to give us a free mini van….with a dying transmission! Ah well….even so, guess it is the thought that counts.

So long Minnie! May you serve your new owner well!

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A strange paradox

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness - (12 Comments)

 

Looking back on what I would call a strange reality, being homeless while at the same time being busier than I’ve ever been in my life, is a paradox I am still struggling with.

To think it all started with one letter to an editor of change.org still boggles my mind. I would never have met Mark Horvath if it hadn’t been for change.org, nor would I have run across Eric Sheptock. Thanks to Mark I have met several grand souls that I am extremely grateful to count as friends (You all know who you are!).

Do you find it odd that the more you go out of your way to serve your community, the more you run into people with negative attitudes about what you’re doing? I love it! What better way is there of gauging attitudes among the masses about what homelessness is and who the homeless are? We are people and yes…some have addiction and mental issues but hey, so are people who aren’t homeless!

I look at it like this, taking the path of least resistance sure does look like conformity to me and from the looks of things, conformity doesn’t seem to be working so well. I strongly suspect that the service providers who take a different approach are the ones with the most success rates. Let’s be real here, although shelters can provide an immediate place to be on any given night, they were not intended to be permanent housing. Not only that, many people have to be turned away when the shelters are full and shelters are seeing unprecedented numbers right now. Tent cities are mushrooming as an alternative to the shelter system and yet…in a country that is supposedly wealthy….people are still dying in the cold because they had nowhere else to go but under a bridge or the nearest sidewalk.

Why do families have to experience homelessness when it could’ve been avoided if relatives in a position to help actually did so? How do soup kitchens help folks by putting limits on how many times the needy can eat there? Why is it a crime to sleep in your own car but not considered inhumane to penalize and jail folks for simply having no where to go?

Here’s one that has always bothered me: Why is the state willing to pay a stranger to raise your kids but won’t lift a finger to guarantee housing for the parents? If you don’t think this is true, look up foster parenting.

But what do I know about what it’s like to be a homeless mother………

Yes indeed, we humans and the way we think is a strange paradox.

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Practicalities….

Posted by Carey Fuller in Homelessness | Poetry - (24 Comments)

So far I have applied for 5 jobs today. Pretty sure I won’t hear back from them but I will keep trying anyway. I’m not concerned about Christmas, haven’t been for the last six years. Not for any particular belief sytem but because of monetary practicalities. Rather than spend money on gifts or wrapping paper, keeping the gas tank filled and the engine running were more important. When I had my old Minnie Winnebago, propane was at a premium to keep us warm in the winter and yes, sometimes it took all the cash I had.The only thing different this year is that I now have a mini-van that still needs a tune-up and probably an oil change.

My teen joined the girl’s wrestling team, the first time she’s participated in a school sport but it didn’t occur to her that there were costs involved like the $20.00 for the shoes they wear and another $96.00 fee required by the school. She’s only been doing the sport for about 3 weeks now and yesterday she tried to hide the fact that she was crying about it. Every year she wants to join something, a sport or a music class but can’t because there is no money for it. The only thing she asked me for if I had the money, was a gift card to a book store.

My 7-year old didn’t ask for much either since the concept of why people celebrate holidays is still new to her. She knows we can’t tote toys around with us. What she wants is her own room.

In many ways, the holidays are a constant reminder to us of how far we have fallen. No matter how well intended the comments or well wishes are, I am still unemployed. We are still homeless. Why would I need another reminder of that?

The current economic crisis in the country I live in is the problem. We can all sit around and debate with politicians about it but what is actually getting done? The private sector cannot absorb or fix poverty on it’s own. The industrial elite caused the problem, the industrial elite must fix it instead of profiting on the blood, sweat and tears of the working class.

People spend money on gifts of “stuff” instead of using that money to get a homeless parent off the street during winter. There’s not enough shelters to provide sanctuary in freezing temperatures so those not able to find one…die. Suicide or drug addiction for our youth is the only way they see out of an already desperate life when their parents can’t find a job or provide stability.

Here is my challenge to self-proclaimed do-gooders. I challenge you to take the money you would ordinarily spend on “stuff” and donate it to a local shelter or safe house for battered women and abused children. Create a network that will provide safe and secure childcare for working parents who can’t keep a job if their kids have nowhere to go. Volunteer or create a soup kitchen if such places don’t exist in your town. Buy hand warmers or gear and bring it to tent cities to help ward off hypothermia and frostbite to its residents. If you are a lawyer, doctor or nurse, donate your time and services to those who otherwise could not afford to pay you. Educate yourself on the truth about homelessness and the people who landed there. I suspect that it the long term, it isn’t facts that will impress you, just what you will learn about yourself.

On a grand scale there is this to consider. If you refuse to invest your resources in feeding big businesses, they can’t feed politicians. What happens when the people invest in people? When the profit margin is affected, only then will policy makers listen….

Tired Eyes

I can’t cry anymore since

The trail my tears once travelled on

Has begun to disappear

 

Funny how the universe has a sense of irony

Playing tricks on hearts and minds by

Placing them on opposing sides

 

The gods of Chaos now reign supreme

Fathering the pains of uncertainty

Using the kings of industry

 

Twins from hell, Want and Poverty

Follow the sirens of false prosperity

Spreading seeds of broken dreams

 

Out of nightmares caused by the spawn of Greed

I see the beginnings of a new prophecy

Warriors born of necessity

 

Mother’s pain like shattered glass

Ghetto child feels lack of social economic class

Champions of coup-de-grace

 

This is the womb I was conceived in

Don’t know the tenderness of believed in

Because the prayers I was taught were deceiving

 

Daughters of mine a hard upbringing

Tough like diamond’s enduring beauty

See how they come up swinging

 

New day coming brought by those who

Paid the price for Wall Street fools and

They look just like me and you

 

Time to let my spirit rise so

Don’t pity me or patronize my

Tired eyes

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Creating my own opportunities

Posted by Carey Fuller in elderly | Helping hands | Homelessness | Kids | senior citizen | Social media - (0 Comments)

Good ol’ Rab has called me about 17 times so far mostly about loneliness but about the letters he’s begun to recieve in the mail. You see, he has been battling depression for awhile now because he’s been so alone. He filled up the time limit on my voicemail reading back the letters that were sent to him. Hopefully he’ll remember to write back to all of you who took the time send him your regards. A trickle of thought occurred to me while I was listening to Rab’s voice on the other end, one that whispered about creating opportunities where none had existed before. I may not have all the details on how to go about it and everyday I seem to learn something new along the way but I think it is an effort worth exploring.

I wrote a letter to Ken Schram today and don’t know if I’ll hear back from him but if I never make an attempt to contact him, I definitly won’t. He has worked for KOMO news and has his own commentary online and on a local radio station I believe. I took the time to explain my story and attached a link to change.org as well as pointing him to InvisiblePeopletv and wearevisible. Maybe nothing will come of this, maybe something will.

I put in a few phone calls to the Pierce County Coalition to end Homelessness but haven’t heard back from them yet. Hopefully someone will get back to me within a few days. The next step from here is to check out King County’s coalitions and go from there.

While doing all of this I still have the same anxieties about getting by just like everybody else, maybe more so but I don’t like to dwell on what I can’t change today. Each of us has the capability to be the first at something in their hometowns but how often do they? It’s a simple matter to acknowledge a family with kids living out of their cars when you see them in parking lots. If I had the money, I would buy gift cards to local restraunts and go on a spree to pass them out to homeless folks especially in the winter when hot food will go a long way but if I couldn’t do that I would at least figure out how to keep them warm. Hand warmers are always a convenient and practical gift.

I don’t know where tomorrow will take me but when I get there, I hope it’s another step closer to something better.

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