A Journey on the Streets..

Where does one start when one's life is irrevocably forced down a path not of one's choosing, but by and through the illegal actions of a despicable landlord? Life takes on an entirely different meaning when you are forced to live not in days, weeks, or even months on the streets, but years... and not just a few years, but in decades.

September 1, 2000 was when this punishing sentence was enforced and finding any help or assistance has been met with repeatedly having doors literally slammed hard in my face. Being denied and refused because I do not fit the part. I am clean and presentable, which has worked against me, because I do not smell the part, look the part, or behave in the way of the stereotypical homeless person is "supposed" to be like. The restrictive parameters that are required in order to receive the so-called help that so many tell me is available, and I have yet to find, are; you have to be chemically dependent, a junkie, an alcoholic, an illegal immigrant, a senior citizen or have dependant children. I am clean. Never been inclined to even try the life destroying habits that are mandatory for assistance. I have never smoked, and in fact; extremely allergic to it. I have never once even tried drugs, alcohol, or anything else that comes under that horrendous umbrella. So nearly 20 years now, I have been forced to live every moment of my life outside without a home, without shelter. Being on the streets changes you in ways you could never imagine, and not always in the best of ways. Life on the streets hardens you to life.

My life has all but faded into obscurity and become invisible to society as a member of the human race. My very rights have been obliterated and taken from me in every regard. Becoming a silent witness to the inhumanity of humanity. I have seen, felt, and fully experienced the underside of humanity in all its ugliness.

The only ones who have ever fully accepted me for me... are all the animals I share my days and nights with. As they have opened their homes to me, night after endless night. I cannot say the same for their human counterparts. Perhaps that is why after nearly 2 solid decades of having to live my life on the streets, that I am still breathing. And living, or rather, merely existing along the seams and periphery of society. Not welcome to engage with life when you no longer have those 4 walls and roof above your head.

So I turn to my drugs of choice... Writing and reading. Writing has always been my outlet, and how I process life and all that I have experienced and lived through. While reading allows me to travel the world over, where otherwise, I would not be able to.

I post a few pieces to my personal Blog through the year, which is solely my experience of living, breathing and existing life on the streets. Though it only holds the smallest portion of what my life has been like outside.... since the volumes would and could go on indefinitely. I have written much more than I have posted to my Blog.

A Life From the Streets.... which has seeped through every pore, cell and atom of my life. I can no longer even dream of a home, any dream that I have all are about living on the streets. So I share some of my experience through my Blog which I hope gives people a better understanding of what life is like on the streets for a single, physically challenged female.

My Blog:
https://alifefromthestreets.blogspot.com