u/Brilliant_Shine2247

     I did everything right. I had a career, a family with two sons (one bio and the other one a stepson I raised from 6 months old to 23), a nice apartment to live in while we looked for a decent house.

    

Then my sister passed, six months later my mom was gone and then a year later my father lost his fight with cancer. That left me the last of my family except for my bio son, who was 11.

    

My father left me a bit of an inheritance, mostly the stuff that accumulated in 53 years of marriage. My folks had good taste.

    

The day after my father's life insurance hit the bank my now ex-wife and stepson tried to murder me. They tried to beat me to death. My son was engaged to the sister of a deputy so the fix was in straight from the start. They got everything and left me with nothing but a book bag, some clothes and a life changing brain injury.

    

I spent the next year or so teaching myself how to read and write all over again. I had zero help during those days except for those in the homeless community.

    

I've spent the last 5 years living in an abandoned house and the woods. After 3 years in the woods I came out 3 months ago and went to a large city to take advantage of the resources available to make my way back into a society that has spit on me, kicked me when I'm down and gone thru great lengths to let me know that no one cares. In spite of all that I'm going to make it.

    

If you've ever wondered what it's like to become and live the homeless life when you're not on drugs, don't drink and aren't mentally unstable then now's the chance. Ask me anything.

    

I'll leave a sample of my work in the comment section.

Edit: I was allowed to stay in the abandoned house by the owner. He gave me a lease-like agreement saying that I was the caretaker of the property so the cops couldn't mess with me. I turned that into a safe space for women and kids in the LGBTQ community who were running from violence on the streets but couldn't get into a conversational shelter for whatever reason. A lot of good came out of that house. Things that I'll always be proud to have been a part of.

It's been nine years since the beating that left me homeless with a TBI .

Navigating the systems that are designed to get people off the streets is impossible when you don't even know if your going to even eat for sometimes days at a time. Even staying in a shelter. I lose track of time and miss the feedings.

At one point I just gave up and got a tent and hit the woods. I managed to stay alive for the last five years living in the woods all by myself. I didn't want anyone else around me because of the drama people bring. Not to mention the drugs and alcohol. That's just not my thing. I don't judge anyone for that because God knows any escape from this life, even for a minute would probably feel like a utopia.

I escape the misery by writing. I had to teach myself all over while living under a bridge. But now I can say with confidence that I'm a damn good writer. But getting my material in front of anyone that can help us just another insurmountable obstacle at the moment.

Anyway. That's all. Thanks to everyone in this forum. Sometimes just knowing you're not alone can make a world of difference.

Hahaha. I just missed the bus that would take me to the soup kitchen that serves breakfast. Hopefully I'll figure something out. Sometimes I'll just stand at the bus stop and watch the bus I need to be on pull away. I'm hanging on but my thread is getting a bit worn out.

I hope this is allowed, but as a homeless person I constantly get religion shoved down my throat. There's this thing church people like to say when they hold a feeding. "Before we nourish your body we must first nourish your soul." It's fucking maddening. Especially when you've been a couple of days without a bite to eat.

I'm not homeless due to drugs or alcohol but because of a brain injury from an attempt on my life. I got so sick of everything coming with a side order of God and my brain injury making it impossible to navigate the system and the programs to help that I just gave up and got me a tent so I could be away from everyone. I most certainly don't stay in a tent city.

I had to teach myself how to read and write all over again. Here's a little piece that I wrote yesterday. My observations of one of those church feedings.

TW: It may be unsettling to some who have been through the sexual abuse that churches seem to love so much.

High Heels

There's a girl here with a church group in Moore Square right now.

She has on a pair of ill fitting high heels in an attempt to look older. Maybe thirteen.

Stumbling around with the heel of one shoe pointing at her other foot from time to time.

Old men are jockeying for a position to give her a hug. Of course she obliges. She's been taught to from birth.

Some ministry is set up with an industrial size charcoal grill. The kind that's built on its own trailer and pulled behind a pickup truck that has a sticker on the window that reads, "God, Guns and Country".

They're barbequing entire half chickens and I gotta admit that the smell is quite intoxicating. I had breakfast but it's not worth it to go back to the shelter for lunch with a side of hopelessness.

There is the gospel being read on a nice little street sound system. There is no chance for you to miss these words.

Especially when someone catches the spirit and grabs the mic for a quick testimonial.

That chicken has been out here cooking for a good hour and the crowd of the homeless and hungry stare at the grill like it's the eye of God. Damn that smell is intoxicating.

The child in high heels has moved on to another line of well wishers. It seems only well dressed middle age men wish anyone well anymore.

People are hungry, the scriptures are pumping while strategically placed minions roam the crowd to pray for thanks because God just can't get enough gratitude for some reason. Give him all the glory or fuck you to hell.

That little girl seems to want to go somewhere else. Her eyes look all alone in the universe as she stares at the sky. She's trying to fly away from the pervert squeezing her body.

Someone sets up across the street to offer hot dogs and pasta. The crowd here disperses and reforms over there. That line moves pretty fast as everyone reunites for some now food.

The smell is intoxicating.

The little girl looks wasted now.

I don't really feel like eating anything anymore.

    

God as my witness she wonders.

That Raleigh Style Kindness is contagious people!

Those who have been following my journey here as a homeless person in Raleigh, boy have I got something to tell y'all about! Forgive me if this is a long post. I'll try to make it worth the read.

Most mornings I leave the shelter and take a brisk walk to the Shell station on Blount. Some cool morning air and a cardiac inducing walk always gets my blood pumping.

If I have the money I'll get a nice sausage egg and cheese biscuit and some life saving caffeine.

This morning I got to the Shell and passed a woman with a 3 or 4 year old child crying. Of course I had to stop and ask her if she was okay and if there was anything I could do to help her. She asked me if I would buy her son something to eat. Apparently, her bf and the child's father had been smoking crack and drinking for a couple of days straight and he dumped them there in the middle of the night and then took off.

I told her that I would be more than happy to help her son. I went to the Shell and got a couple of biscuits, 2 honeybuns, 2 Gatorades and a cup of coffee for her. That meant that I would go without, but being homeless means I understand hunger all too well.

No child should ever have to understand hunger.

I told her about Oak City Cares and gave her the last of my money for a bus ride.

Leaving there I felt pretty good about myself.

I got to the bus depot downtown and realized that now I would be short the money to wash and dry my clothes. Okay. No problem. I can do them at the shelter but it takes forever and you have to sit there with them. I do not like to hang around that place for any longer than I have to.

While at the bus depot I hear some jackass going off on some woman. He's yelling that his taxes pay for disability so she owes him sex. She is sitting there on her walker surrounded by her belongings and has a new looking hospital wrist band on.

At that point I thought that our inebriated ruffian needed a little reminder of how one should address another person, especially, and please excuse my obvious sexism, a lady.

I immediately stepped up to him to let him know that I thoroughly doubted that his family tree had more than two branches. I also let him know that there was some doubt as to the number of legal parents he had. I may (or may not) have told him that he would be the perfect person to represent the pro-abortion argument on both posters and other assorted media.

After diverting his focus from competing for the world's biggest douche canoe he began to focus his angry tirade at me. Being somewhat of a sizable man physically I began walking him backwards away from the woman in the walker. While doing so I tried to help him out with some positive affirmations in an attempt to brighten his day. Why, I even told him that he was a perfect example of why pets should be spayed and neutered. Maybe not in those words exactly, but judging from his reaction it appears he understood.

After almost getting hit by a bus he decided to let me know that he did in fact question my personal sexuality (like calling me gay is some sort of insult) and he then informed me that when he goes to sleep tonight (or pass out, whatever the case may be) that he will be engaging me in the pugilistic arts. I'm sure that he meant it that way because he just kept backing up in real life!

He finally left and the women with the walker thanked me and bestowed some sort of blessing upon my soul. Good. I need all the help I can get in that department.

So. How has everyone else's morning gone?

    Hey folks. I hope everyone is fine today. I'm going to dive straight in because it may be kind of long.

     I'm currently homeless because of a traumatic brain injury that took everything from me. I even had to teach myself to read and write all over again.

     I lived in the woods and in an abandoned house (with the owners permission) for the last 9 years because my brain injury made life pretty much impossible.

     Now I've moved to a city that has the resources I need to get back in the game. I'm in a shelter and I no longer look like Grizzly Adams. Hahaha.

     For the last 7 years I've been friends with the most beautiful woman to walk the Earth. A little over a year ago our friendship became what it was always meant to be and we confessed our love for each other. But in order to get myself straight I had to move an hour away to a city with the resources I needed.

     Her birthday is coming up this weekend and the shelter has been gracious enough to grant me a weekend pass for being such a good boy. I've organized a shoe drive to help the elderly guys with mobility issues get new shoes and other assorted things to help people out. Through the years I've used my sobriety (26 years soon. June 23rd, 1999) to help others. Won a few and lost a few.

     Now I'm asking for something for myself. I'm trying to get the money to get a room for my partner and myself for my weekend pass. I want to propose to her at that time.

     I realize that this is not a life or death situation and I feel strange asking for anything for myself. But this woman has literally saved my life. She has been there for me when I lived in the woods. She sees something in me that makes me want to be a better man.

     I need $180 to make this happen. I had $100 saved up but I had some medical expenses I had to take care of. One of my promises to her was to get my health straightened out and I'm keeping that promise.

     If no one wants to help, I understand. Like I say, this is not life or death. I just want to show her how much I love her.

     Thanks for your time.