Well, this article had me in tears.

I’ve been homeless more than a couple times from the age of 8 to my early 20’s.

I still feel the constant pressure of not being able to afford my basic living expenses and the stress of knowing that homelessness is just an uncovered prescription, dropped class, or vet bill away… It’s terrifying (and often immobilizing).

This article talks about being homeless in the US but it isn’t so different here….

There are more tenancy rights- but just like when I first moved here- I was massively screwed over by a landlord and won in arbitration, but never saw a penny cause there is no way to enforce the decision without paying way more than I may have ever recouped.

Over and over, something happens and I watch what little savings I have, deplete itself.

I try to aim for something better by going to school, being involved in my community and resisting these messed up systems that perpetuate these issues…

I will always be the one who is going to work, hoping to effect change somehow- but I am terrified I will never be the one landing a stable and safe job that will help me pull myself out of this hole.

It’s a shitty battle that I often feel is futile. I plan what I would do if I ended up homeless again on an almost daily basis…. A university degree, a life of experience, a good work ethic literally means nothing when the bills far exceed the income.

I have managed to stay in the place I am in for 2 years- longer than I’ve lived anywhere…. but the longer I am here, the more I fear losing it.

I’ve been applying for a lot of jobs, most recently a position as a support person at some local shelters- the worst part is sitting in the interviews trying to seem ‘together’ knowing that not getting the position as staff could mean I may end up the client.

The reality is the longer I am in poverty, the harder it is to come out of it. I am at the point where I just expect this to be the most I can hope from life and that is a really fucking shitty way to exist.


About Reclaimingkatie

I have no idea how to begin my story. All I know is that it is far from over. My story isn’t an inspiration and my life is not courageous. I just existed the best I could. It was only recently that I even grew to know my memories are real. I know now that I am not crazy. I did not invent my pain; however, most people who meet me will always believe otherwise. I don’t need anyone else to tell me who I am now. I once heard, "you cannot escape a prison if you can't see the bars".... I now see the social constructions that have shaped my life and will do my best to dismantle them. This is me- deconstructing the contamination of innocence.
This entry was posted in Discussions, General, Homelessness, Poverty, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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