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HomeCommentaryMy Journey Through Homelessness Part One: Turnstiles and the Night Sky

My Journey Through Homelessness Part One: Turnstiles and the Night Sky

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My Journey Through Homelessness Part One: Turnstiles and the Night Sky

Commentary by Andy Pope | FāVS News 

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In recent times, in an interim between apartments, I found myself immersed in a homeless reality for approximately five weeks.

Unlike previous periods of homelessness, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I knew that on a certain day, I would be securely lodged in a nicer apartment in a better neighborhood, for significantly reduced rent.

Still I found myself experiencing a sense of indecision that characterized the many years I spent on the Bay Area streets.

When I was homeless in the Bay Area, I often never knew quite where to go or what to do. I would walk in circles, trying to figure out whether to stay in a halfway house, a psych ward, a drug rehab, a board-and-care home or maybe just another homeless shelter. I weighed all these alternatives against the option of remaining outside, and by and by, I found the outside option increasingly appealing.

In short, over a long period of time, the option of homelessness eventually prevailed over all indoor options.

“What part of insanity do you not understand?” a sponsor once asked me, after I had told him I would rather sleep outside than remain in the Sober Living Environment (SLE) he had recommended.

“The part of insanity that tells me I would rather get a good night’s sleep than stay in an attic with five angry men, one of whom is a practicing crackhead who keeps the rest of us awake all night.”

True, I felt bad leaving the SLE after a single week. My brother had invested a good $400 in my week of indoor insomnia. But it sure felt good to climb back into my bedroll behind the Berkeley Fellowship, rent-free. There I would sleep comfortably alone on a stairwell, saying my nightly prayers beneath the stars.

It would not be long, however, before I once again found myself yearning for a roof over my head. And wherever that roof turned out to be, it wouldn’t be long before I yearned to be completely alone at night. If sleeping outside was the most affordable way to gain solitude, I would again opt for sleeping outside.

Until later. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I often compared homelessness to a turnstile at a BART station. I was stuck in the turnstile, as its wheels rolled me rapidly around and around. Eventually, I would be spewed out of the turnstile, on one side of the other: either inside or out.

It was kind of like this during the five weeks when I was floating between apartments. Amazingly, I didn’t have to spend a single night outside. At first someone offered me the “secret apartment,” whose location I cannot reveal for obvious reasons.

Had I had to pay for the secret apartment, it would arguably have been worse than the SLE. There was no Internet connection and no shower. The nearest bathroom was down a flight of stairs and up three flights. If I awoke in the middle of the night needing to urinate, I often couldn’t get back to sleep after exercising so vigorously to get to the bathroom.

But the price was right, and I was grateful for the free gift. Still, I found myself wondering why I didn’t just camp out somewhere in the wilds, where the “natural bathroom” would be a footstep away. I guess I was trepidatious, due to never having slept outdoors in Idaho. Also, to be honest, I’d stayed indoors for seven years now, and I’d gotten a little soft.

Eventually, I beseeched a certain friend to let me stay in a certain room of theirs. At last, I slept soundly, quite close to the much needed restroom.

During those five weeks when I was in the “turnstile,” multiple people approached me with well-meaning suggestions and offers, as this recent column attests. I felt bombarded.

The bombardment flashed me back to the homeless period, when well-meaning social workers often suggested the very indoor dwelling spots I was later to flee — as though fleeing for my life.

Because I was trying hard to conceal my recent homelessness from those who might not quite understand, none of those offers had anything to do with helping me to find a roof over my head. But they were experienced in the same fashion. Perhaps some of them were responses to their observing a person walking in circles, indecisively dangling from a noose by a mountaintop, uncertain whether to try to climb back up the mountain, or simply to let himself fall.

On that note, I must let my readers know that my “Revelation of Humanity” post is far more of a social statement than a personal statement. As I have written before, I am not a person who suffers from any serious depressive disorder, nor do I ordinarily entertain suicidal thoughts. That I reached that stage says more about what ongoing homelessness can do to a person than it says about me.

In reality, I am a person who loves life immensely, who tries to get the most out of every moment. Because of that nature, I was able to endure homelessness better than most. In fact, I even found it at times to be enjoyable.

But at other times, it was terrifying.

So how did I finally get myself out of 12 years of being spewed out of turnstiles, on one side or the other?

I owe it all to a flu I caught in the Maple Street Shelter in Redwood City, California, in 2016.

Yes, a flu.

I, even I, who spent 12 years between 2001 and 2013 never getting a flu shot and never catching a flu, despite that the bulk of the last 9 of those years were spent outdoors, actually caught a flu.

In a homeless shelter.

Thinking I was doing the “responsible thing,” I went to the hospital. They told me I had “viral bronchitis,” which I have come to believe is a highfalutin name for a flu.

I went back to the shelter. They told me I was too high a risk to remain there, and they kicked me out of the shelter.

So I caught a flu in a shelter, and was kicked out of the shelter, because I had caught a flu.

I returned to the hospital. They told me to rest in bed for 10 days. I told them I did not have a bed to rest in.

They told me that if they let one homeless person into the hospital to overcome a flu, they’d have to let us all in. There just wasn’t room in the inn.

I started sleeping on the all-night bus. I got kicked off the bus because I was obviously sick as a dog.

And it was then, on July 17, 2016, that I fell down on my knees on the pavement outside the Sequoia Station in Redwood City. and I shouted this prayer:

“God! I don’t care Who You Are or what your name is!! I don’t care about being a drug addict, or a lazy bum, or a loser or anything else the society tells me I am!! I care about homelessness!!! Please God deliver me from 12 years of anything can happen, anytime-anywhere, totally unpredictable, totally unreliable, homelessness!!! In the name of Jesus Christ I pray, Amen!!!!!”

I got up with a couple of hurt knees and a theological question about the validity of my prayer. But at the same time, I had an eerie sense it would be answered.

Long story short — and I will save it for later — I stepped off a bus in Moscow, Idaho, on July 27, 2016, 10 days later. And I have kept a roof over my head, every single night, since then.

So if anyone doubts there is a God, I beg to differ with you. He does not go after the sheep who are settled. He goes after the sheep who is lost.

He did not come to save the righteous. He came to save sinners to repentance.

He does not love those who are lovable in the eyes of the world. He loves the ones whom the world deems unlovable.

And many other prayers has he answered — even in the 10 days after I arose from bended knees broken.

I’ll tell the rest of the story next time. Right now I got to get back into this musical project I find so absorbing, something to do with audio-editing software and other nerdy things — things I longed to do if I was lever lucky enough to get inside again.

I am indeed the lucky one. Many have died in that gutter.

There is a reason why I am alive.

If you’re interested in the other parts of the series, here’s Part Two: A Prayer that Released Me from Shame,” “Part Three: A New Pair of Glasses,” “Part Four: Body Armor” and “Part Five: Learning to Live Outside the Box.”


The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.

Andy Pope
Andy Popehttps://edeninbabylon.com
Andy Pope is a freelance writer currently residing in Moscow, Idaho. His unique perspective has been published on FāVS News throughout the past five years, as well as on Classism Exposed, Berkeleyside, Street Spirit News, U.U. Class Conversations and Religion Unplugged. An accomplished pianist and lifelong musical theatre person, Andy is also the author of "Eden in Babylon," a musical about youth homelessness in urban America. He recently started a new YouTube Channel, which you can find here.

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