I was homeless for almost 2 months. Very recently actually. Like, up until a couple weeks ago. Let me clarify that I was NOT living on the streets as one might assume by the word “homeless”. I was living in the basement of dear friends of mine. Let me back up a bit. In March 2015, for reasons that I consider large enough to warrant a quick decision, I left my fiance. Said incident happened on a Friday, I was gone by Sunday, with kids in tow. And yes, I am purposely leaving out the juicy “why” of the sudden split, because frankly, it doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to make a judgement call or weigh in on whether it was the right thing to do. If you know me, you know I always aim to make the best decisions for my children. Even if hard or heartbreaking.
My sister was going to be out of town for a week, and offered her place to stay. I shoved all of our clothes into trash bags and loaded up my car and headed to her place. I spent the next week in a mild haze. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? How am I going to afford to live on my own? I cannot believe I have to start over AGAIN. There was no place to go. No houses to rent, and no way I could buy my own house. I was stuck. Then I got a text that changed everything. My friend Kris messaged me teasing, “David says he will barter a haircut for our “basement suite” for you guys.” Phew. I have the next week covered.
Well, one week turned into over 6 weeks. How many of you just cringed a bit? We know what they say about house guests right? If I heard that, I would assume someone was taking advantage of hospitality. I could not imagine how any family would willingly take in a single mother with three kids for THAT long. That sounds like a situation where a friendship ends and there is a lot of emotion and tension.
As the receiver of this hospitality, I worried that the stress and anxiety of being in someone else’s house was going to push me over the edge. We all clean better, act nicer, are more polite, organized, etc, when we’re guests. I know myself. This was going to stress me out to the max. I knew I would only be able to maintain the “guest Beth” persona for a week, two max. So panic set in about the urgency of finding a place before disorganized, emotional, spastic Beth would come out. I loved this family and REALLY didn’t want them to regret their decision to let us live here.
Hands down, the BEST homeless situation I could have possibly asked for. These last couple months have been so full of love, compassion, kindness, and contentment. No judgement, no guilt, no manipulation, no animosity, just peace. Moving into my own place, while exciting, brought a certain amount of sorrow with it. I didn’t want to leave this family. I saw my children thrive here. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack the entire time I lived here. I could just state my needs, or ask for what they needed and there was a completely open line of communication. I wasn’t made to feel bad if I needed to cry and vent. I was NEVER made to feel like a burden. I felt accepted and appreciated. Is this family perfect? Absolutely not, none of us are. But there is a self awareness they have, that freed me to just be my loud, flighty, imperfect, self right with them.
So what do I do with this experience? What have I learned from all this? First off, I’ve learned how important it is to be grateful for the sacrifice others give to you. Seems like a pretty obvious lesson. But I feel it needs to be stated. Gratitude is something we MUST hold on to. My existing doesn’t entitle me to anything except the space my physical body takes up. How many woman DON’T leave because they have no where to go? What would I have done if I didn’t have anyone to take me in?
I would say, the biggest lesson I have learned from all this is from the other side of the situation. How completely selfless of this family to take in my family, no questions asked. Would you do that? Think about it. How many excuses do we make because we wouldn’t want the inconvenience of someone else’s problems. I was desperate. I was HOMELESS, with three kids. Did I choose it? Yes, I chose to respond to a situation the only way I could. I have actually had people say, “You chose this. You’re going to have to figure it out.” (We’ve come so far haven’t we….I should probably just put up with it. I probably deserved whatever happened, right?….I asked for it.)
We HAVE to change this “not my problem” approach to life. And this, “You didn’t do it the way I would have, so you deserve to suffer.” Yes, these were MY problems. Whether due to the fact that life just took a shit on me, or I made bad choices, the reality was, I needed help. My kids needed a stable place. And I needed one person to have compassion and say, “I care about you. So this IS my problem too.” I needed someone to say, “We don’t want you or your children to suffer.” That’s what Dave and Kris did. They said, we love you, so if you’re hurting, we’re hurting. If you need, and we can provide, we will. It brings me to tears to think about how rare this is to find people like this. They are a treasure. I am I different, better, person because of them. To watch them parent their children, and include mine like family, to not ONCE feel like I needed to make myself scarce or that I was somehow intruding in their personal life, they were inclusive and sincere.
Does this mean you need to take in any person wandering around looking for a place? No way. That would be unsafe. What I mean by all this is, if I’m ever in a position where someone is in need, and I can give them what they need (not what I THINK they need) I will to just do. Don’t ask how they got there. Don’t explain what they did wrong. Just simply, see the need, and lighten the burden. To just love and know I AM responsible for other people. We can’t help every person, every time. Sometimes, we have to say no. But if we can, then we need to.
thatbethy 