It's been 3 months since I posted on this blog. I never changed the title because even though I now have a place that I call home, I still in many ways feel homeless.
I dedicate this post to my fellow Hoomans/Critters that are going through a rough time who have recently posted on our Facebook groups. This post may be a little long, also NSFW.
A (somewhat) quick summary of how I ended up homeless is in order. January 2015, my wife of 19 years dies in hospice, complications after bariatric surgery ends her life. For most of our marriage her brother (with a son and daughter) and sister lived with us, we were a pretty solid family. The first 3 months after her passing I slept a lot, would barely talk and all I could feel was darkness around me.
Then my brother-in-law, whom I considered a brother... demanded that I stop it because my behavior was affecting his kids. So, I pretended to come out of the depression, and I made them believe that I was fine. I kept it all inside, the hurt, the dark emotions, everything. Meanwhile... I was planning my suicide with my wife's old meds, enough to triple overdose. I figured if the pills could kill 9 men, it was a sure shot. I actually kept postponing it because I wanted to see the second Avengers movie... still a geek/nerd to the end.
In June of 2016 I snapped, in the middle of the night on a Thursday I walked to the pool area of the complex, walked into the bathroom with a bottle of water and 60 pills. Fortunately a cop in his vehicle had seen me and investigated, finding me unresponsive.
Paramedics revived me, and I woke up in a hospital with a tube down my throat the next day. I could not breathe on my own due to all the stuff I had taken. My body had no permanent damage. 3 days later, tube is removed, and 4 days after that I'm told that I can either sign myself for some help or I would be "bakerized".
Realizing I needed help, I signed and was transferred to another hospital's psych ward. I went through therapy, lots of sessions and within a few weeks doctors declare that I'm fit to leave.
During that entire period of time, only once my brother and my niece dropped by (at the first hospital) and he was angry rather than concerned. I told him to leave because I didn't want the hospital to try and stick him with the medical bills.
I call the house to let them know I'm being released and that I'm better now, to come pick me up. Nobody answers, I leave a message. I got no money, only a bus ticket that was provided by the hospital. I don't even know how to get home. Hours go by. I decide to walk home.
8 hours later, I reach home at night and he is outside, waiting for me. I'm tired, but happy that my brother was there. My smile faded when he told me I was no longer part of the family, that I had ruined everything. He gave me a backpack with some of my clothes, my wallet, my old phone which was deactivated, $30 and told me to go north.
They were the only family I had left after my wife died, and I was thrown to the streets as if 20 years of being a member of the family meant nothing.
I was homeless for 7 months, ate out of dumpsters, panhandled, slept on concrete or cardboard. I was threatened on a regular basis by other homeless (which I could handle fortunately), shot at with air soft guns in the middle of the night while sleeping near the beach, empty beer bottles thrown at me and oh yeah, got robbed a few times. Countless of police officers questioning me as to why I was in the area, frisking me for weapons/drugs and most of the time telling me to move out of their jurisdiction on to the next city/county if I knew what was good for me.
So many homeless that were mentally ill, drug addicts and alcoholics that could not climb themselves out of their situation... I met a lot of them during the time I was walking the streets.
Once I hit Delray Beach, things got a bit easier since the cops there were much more lenient and kind. I got lucky when an ex of mine found me on Facebook, she and her husband helped me out by picking me up once in a while for a hot shower and laundry. A few weeks later (Thanksgiving 2016) I was invited to dinner and at the end of the meal I was told that they would not let me go back to the streets, that I could stay and they were willing to help me get my life back together. They had unanimously agreed to do it.
Been with them since, learning that I had a $600 debt which originally had been $275 of court fees from an old parking ticket from 2008, among other things (I'm in debt). I found work at a car wash through Craigslist 2 weeks ago, where most of my cash is based on tips from 9am to 6pm, weekdays I make about $15-$30, and on good days (weekends) twice that. Still, if it's cloudy or raining, chances are we closing early, not working at all or just staying all day for a few cars making very little.
I'm struggling, but still happy to have a place to call home, being a part of a new family and knowing there are people who have it much tougher than me out there.
My fellow Hooman/Critter, if you are having a tough time, remember... you are not alone, we're here for you. We open our arms in the virtual world we share, with love, compassion and understanding. Look forward to tomorrow, a new day, a new sunrise and the many entertaining ways to relieve stress that Felicia Day, Geek & Sundry and the cast of Critical Role have provided us.
Be pleased, beep beep and Bidet to you my friend.
Sincerely
Luis O.
Hooman Critter
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