The Homeless in Waiting

Have you ever thought of what it's like to know you're going to be homeless? To know how much time you have left to move in a shelter? What would you do with that time?

The easy answer isn't always the true one.

Logically, you'd pack your things for moving out, prioritizing the things you need to take with you and balancing those out against not taking more than you can carry on a regular basis, because you might not get a place – even in a shelter – to store your belongings for a few days, so during that time, you'll need to carry everything with you.

Do you take anything of sentimental value? Do you have a laptop? Is taking it a priority for you? Any hobbies in case you get bored or lonely? Any books? A Bible perhaps, if you subscribe to that?

Logically you ask these questions and act upon them.

But the reality is very different.

I do have a day job. I work in a kitchen. While still living in poverty, it paid enough and gave me enough hours I could take care of my needs and treat myself to the odd luxury if I found it on sale. An HDTV on Boxing Day 2014. A PS3 a few months later. The minimum required payment to my Tax Free Savings Account. The occasional extra payment so I had some savings. It wasn't always easy, but nice enough. After having been homeless for an extended period of time, it was nice to have a place to call my own.

And then the recession hit.

Combined with a normal slow period after Christmas as customers pay off credit card bills instead of eating out, there were fewer people eating out altogether as the economy slowed down. Most of our staff took a cut in hours and I was no exception. And while I work hard, I'll be the first to admit I'm not the fastest cook, so while there are areas at work I excel in, I admittedly am the weak link in the most important part of my job. And as such, I took the biggest hit.

I do like my job. I love my coworkers and I have great managers. But despite looking around and trying to push out as many resumes as possible, I hadn't received any callbacks, and suddenly went from earning about $1300.00 a month to $300 a month. My savings ran out pretty quickly. Mid February I spoke with my Landlord about my situation. She was sympathetic to my situation and understood it's the rough economy, and praised me for my behaviour as a tenant. But business is business. I had until March 1^st to move out.

I'm writing this two days before moving out, but by the time you read this, I'll be living in a homeless shelter (I decided to do this to not distract from my previous entry on the byelection.) Suddenly, I had to answer all those questions. Prioritizing, making difficult decisions, and wondering what items of sentimental value I can take with me and which ones I'll have to tearfully say goodbye to. I couldn't look for work, because I had to get ready and I still had my two shifts a week at the job I had.

I knew what was going to happen to me. I knew I was going to be homeless. And I knew when. The reality sunk in, and anxiety and depression, and at times apathy and numbness set in. I was essentially among the walking dead. I was as good as homeless, just not there yet. When that happens it's hard to get motivated for anything. I couldn't find the motivation to sort through my things. I couldn't find the motivation to pack things and throw things away. I went to work, worked hard as usual. I don't feel though as it impacted my performance. But for my responsibilities at home, it was hard to do do anything. Everything was done half-hearted and piecemeal as I hit the reset button on my life and said goodbye to everything I owned.

In the end, I took my blanket and a pillow, some clothes, both casual and formal (for job hunting). I packed my laptop and my drawing tablet and my art supplies for drawing both traditional and digital artwork, some books on poverty and my framed copy of the Homeless Charter of Rights. That was all I had room for. I wanted to take at least a stuffed animal with me, but it was just too much (A Plush Twilight Sparkle unicorn from Japan).

I'll be relieved to be in the shelter. It won't be comfortable or peaceful, but I am grateful to have a job of some sort. It's not that I enjoy the shelter or want to be there, but rather that the uncertainty will be over. Whatever decisions I make about taking things with me, since I could change my mind on some things before I go, will be done, and I'll have to live with whatever I take. I won't be in the process of saying goodbye to my life anymore; I'll have finished that. I won't be among the walking dead. The information I know about what's going to happen to me and when will be a thing of the past. I can be motivated again. I can start anew,.

And that can't come soon enough because right now, I just feel like a zombie in waiting.