Carolyn's Homeless Page:
When I Was Homeless
How I became homeless
How I survived
How I got out
What I learned
If you were homeless in the past, send me
your story, and I will post it.
How I Became Homeless
I don't want to go into too much detail about how I became homeless, because that part is still upsetting to me.
Basically I had been employed sporadically for two years, which really cut into my savings, and then I had been
unemployed for seven months. Simultaneously my boyfriend time was lying to me and cheating on me, and my ex was
attempting to curtail my visits with my kids. I was very upset about everything. I was crying all the time and
pretty much gave up hope on everything. My extended family lived too far away, and I wanted to stay near my children
so that I could see them on the weekends. Of course, I had no friends left from church.
Anyway, I knew I couldn't afford rent, I was only getting a little unemployment, and I was too distraught about
everything to think straight. In fact, I learned later that I had PTSD.
How I Survived.
I had a '84 Toyota Turcel hatchback. I put what I needed in my car, and I put the rest of my stuff in storage.
In the trunk of car I had two grocery sacks of clothes, like underwear, jeans and T-shirts. I am glad that it was
summer and so I did not need a lot of heavy things. I had a grocery sack of food that contained apples, tuna, granola
bars, rolls, peanut butter, and canned soup. I had a box with hygiene things like my toothbrush and a towel. I
bought a mummy style sleeping bag designed for camping in cold weather.
The first day, I just laid back the front seat of the car, and slept in my clothes, which is not like me at all.
I am a tidy person, careful about cleanliness, and I don't know the first thing about camping. I went to my friend's
house in the morning, and he said I could take a shower over there. That lasted about two days, but he had roommates,
and they said that I could not shower over there.
For a couple of days, I parked my car in the parking lot of an elementary school. The school had been leveled because
of the earthquake, so no one was there. There were trees in the parking lot to hide my car behind. But in the morning
I left early leave before someone noticed me and decided to call the police or something. One night a guy came
by and started bothering me. I acted calm, but I was frightened. I drove away. The next night I parked at a 24
hour grocery store It was noisy with traffic and people, but I felt safer because there were always people around.
Also, it was a neighborhood that I was familiar with. The first morning, I thought I would wash up in the grocery
store bathroom. There were a few women waiting in line, so I waited too. Whoever was in there took a long time.
When she came out, she was all tidied up. The next woman went in and also took a long time. When she came out,
her clothes were changed, and her make-up and her hair were done. I realized that all these women line were homeless
like me. They did not look homeless, but they obviously had no access to facilities.
I switched to showering at night because I thought that would be easier. I went to a different grocery store in
a better neighborhood. It was farther back from the street, so it was much quieter.
The grocery store parking lot was pretty busy at night. Every night at about 3:00 a.m., the parking lot cleaning
machine would go around doing it's job. It was very, very noisy. The operator would drive right up to my car and
then make a U-turn. He would sing to himself in Spanish at the top of his lungs because no one could hear him over
the roar of the machine. Loud trucks would come at night and some would pull up to the front of the store for unloading.
There would be loud air brakes, men calling out to each other, hand carts being dragged around, and lots of slamming.
But I got used to all this night activity. In fact, it helped me feel safer because I knew people were all around.
In the morning, the sun would shine in my car around 6:00, and I would have to get up. People would be all dressed
for a day of work, and hurrying all around me. I felt embarrassed to be obviously not part of that world anymore.
I thought about how they must feel uncomfortable to see me, that maybe I was some kind of threat to them. They
didn't know that I was harmless and needed help. Once I was part of their world: I drove their kids to school in
a school bus, I had greeted them at a front office, and I had typed their Dictaphone. Now I was ashamed, and I
thought when people saw me, they would probably stare, but instead they just looked right past me. I was invisible.
I was not even part of the world anymore. I was an alien. I lived in a bubble separate from them, and I had no
way to get out. Only one person saw me. One morning a woman in a nice suit started walking in my directions. I
thought maybe she was headed for the bank, but she came right up to me. She smiled and said hello. I was so happy
that someone was taking a moment to say hi to me. Then she handed me a Watchtower. She didn't care about me, she
saw another person who maybe was ripe for being exploited by her church.
At night, when I washed up, I would wait until about 1:00 p.m. so that I could have a lot of undisturbed time in
the bathroom. There was a schedule on the back of the door that showed that it was supposed to be cleaned every
hour. But at night, I noticed that the initials weren't in the boxes as frequently. I would bring my pajamas (sweat
clothes) in my backpack, with towels etc. I had a cheap tool box for my toothbrush and soap. I put my stuff in
a backpack and just walked directly to the back of the store. I was careful not to stop and look at anything, because
I didn't want them to worry that I might start shoplifting. The bathroom was one room with a toilet and a sink.
There was no stall, but the lock was on the main door. I would lock the door, and put a paper towel on the floor
to stand on. There was a drain in the middle of the floor and I stood by it so all the water would go right down.
I would take off my clothes and soap up my body. Bar soap was too sudsy and was too much trouble to rinse off.
But the hand soap in the dispenser worked better. I would put a little on my washcloth and soap up my whole body.
To be standing there naked and wet was chilly. Then I would rinse the washcloth and wipe the soap off of my body.
Sometimes I would use a cup and pour the water on my body to rinse off. I had to fill up one cup at a time with
warm water, pour it carefully so it would rinse off as much as possible, then go an refill the cup while I was
cold and wet. All the water would go down the drain. Then I would dry off. I was careful to stay on the paper towel
to keep my feet clean. Then I would change into my pajamas and put my tennis shoes back on. When I washed my hair,
I would wash it in the sink, using a cup to pour the water onto my hair. I would drape a towel around my shoulders
when my hair was wet. Then I brushed my teeth. I was always careful to pick up the whole bathroom, and make sure
that it looked better then when I got there. I didn't want anyone to complain that I was messing up the bathroom
and then prevent me from using it. I took whatever dirty paper towels were on the ground, and pushed them around
with my feet to clean the floor and dry it. I would walk out clean, hair wet, towel around my shoulders, different
clothes, etc., but no one ever said anything. Later I bought a nozzle at Thrifties that would attach to a faucet
and make a little hand shower for me.
I would sleep in the front seat of my car with the chair back. I locked the doors, but let the windows open a crack
for air. I kept the inside of the car clean and tidy so it would not start smelling musty. I had to keep it clean
so there would be room for everything. While I slept, I kept the keys in the ignition and parked the car facing
outward so I could drive off in a hurry if I had too. I put the damp towels over the passenger seat to dry. I put
my dirty clothes in a plastic bag in the trunk.
In the mornings, I would get dressed in the car. That was pretty easy. I would have breakfast of an English muffin
with peanut butter on it. I sprinkled powdered milk on it for extra nutrition. That was pretty filling for me.
I would go brush my teeth. Because the sun prevented me from sleeping in, I had to go find something to do. That
was hard because I just wanted to cry. I usually went to a park by the library. I would spend my days at the library
glancing books, or just sitting in the park. I was too sad to do anything else. I just couldn't focus. I tried
going to the mall, but it gave me too much time to think and be sad. I would start thinking about how I was mad
at the whole world or how I wanted to die. But how could I die and leave my kids when only I could tell them what
to beware of? No one had told me. Everyone I loved and trusted (except for my far-off family) had exploited me
until there was nothing left. I was a wreck and I could barely think. I would replay in my head the things that
people had done and said to me. I would get so upset, until pretty soon I was waving my arms and yelling outloud
at them all. I was not part of the regular world, and oblivious to it. Now I was one of those people who sit in
the park or walk around having crazy conversations with people who aren't there.
Every day for lunch, I would buy one 99 cent hamburger. For dinner, I ate cold soup right out of the can. That
was hard the first time, but there was no way to heat it up, so what else could I do? So I just ate it. It was
harder to keep busy at night. I would just sit in the park by myself crying for hours. One time I overheard a lady
ask her friend if she should call the police on me. I had no hope and no where to go. My "friends" either
showed their true colors and turned a blind eye, or they personally couldn't emotionally deal with it, and distanced
themselves. So I had no one. Only my 10-year-old daughter still cared. She had always begged to come and live with
me, but of course, Richard always did his best to keep that from happening. Even when I was living in my car, she
still wanted to come and live with me. She knew it was a bad situation, but said that it would be like camping,
and we would make it fun. She said that she worried about me at night and when she was at school.
The friend who let me use his shower in the beginning was worried about my safety, and he asked his roommates if
I could at least park my car in their driveway at night when I sleep. They had a second driveway on the side of
the house that was unused, so I would be out of the way. I would not use anything inside the house at all, like
the kitchen or the bathroom. I would just sleep safely near my friends. I considered these people my last few remaining
friends. In the past, I had been to church parties and Bible studies at their house. They are very strong Born-Again
Christians. I remember one time; they decided that as the guests arrived at the house, some people would be appointed
stand by the front door and spend a couple of minutes in prayer with each visitor. This was to show their love
and brotherly support. At the parties that I attended, I would arrive early and help set up. I also did a lot of
dishes at those parties. Because I appreciated their friendship so much, a couple of times I would find the chore
sheet and do everybody's weekly chores: kitchen, floor, vacuum, bathrooms, windows, etc. I didn't expect anything
in return, I was so grateful that they were my friends. Well, allowing me to stay in the driveway was put to a
vote, and I lost.
There was a former neighbor who agreed to take my mail. One day I went by just in case there was something for
me, like an unemployment check. She invited me to stay for a few days. I tried to play down my situation because
I didn't want to freak her out. I was so happy that someone in the whole world cared. My stepfather was staying
there during the week because he drove in from out of town to work. I did my best to stay out of everyone's way,
and not cry in front of them. I stayed in my room, I cleaned and helped around the house, and I tied to be cheery.
My stepfather ignored me, but that was how he always was, so I didn't think anything of it. (When I lived with
him and my mom for a year while going to paralegal school, he would not permit me to have my children over to visit
at all. Sometimes I would have to sneak them in the house and hide them in my room. That was another very bad year.
He never did know what my daughter's name was.) Anyway, my mom called the house and told me that he was angry at
the neighbor for helping me out, and so he wasn't speaking to me. If my mom hadn't told me, I never would have
noticed it. I guess he figured I had a lesson to learn, or I deserved my plight or something. There I was, homeless
and suicidal, without a friend in the world, and he is put out because someone else is helping me. Et tu Brute?
How I Got Out of It.
I had happened to sign up on a whim with a dating service just before the world caved in on me. My real dad asked
me call him collect every day to make sure I was okay. That was very nice of him. The dating service would leave
messages for me at his house. This was a small, exclusive service that catered to Born-Againers who wanted to get
married. I had decided that I would go out with anyone who asked. I figured that if I liked him, fine. If I didn't,
I would still meet someone, talk, and make a friend. It was nice to go out to dinner, but for me it wasn't about
the food: it was about stepping back into the regular world for a little while and having a real conversation.
They never knew I was homeless, and didn't think anything about meeting me at the restaurant.
John had signed up with the same service. He was having a hard time meeting someone, so he had gone down to the
service one day, and filled out a pile of cards. Then he mailed them in at five a week from his house. My name
came up, they called my dad, I called him back, and said I would like to meet him. He was astounded that someone
called back. (The people there are very picky. I've watched them. They say they want someone very spiritual, but
when they look at the books they say, "Not cute enough, not tall enough, not my ethnic group, not rich enough". Anyway, he had to go down to the service and look up my picture to see who I was. We both left messages with my
dad, and so agreed to meet for lunch. I thought he would figure out that I was homeless when he saw the stuff in
my car. But instead he needed to put something in his car, and he said, "Please excuse all the stuff in my
car; I take my office with me everywhere".
At lunch, I asked him what he did, and he told me all about how he was a general manager of two retail stores,
he supervised, hired and fired all the employees, and the shop made all kinds of money. I know he was trying to
impress me, but suddenly I was thinking, "Oh no, this is an employer, and this isn't a date, this is an interview.
As soon as he finds out my poor employment history, and that I am homeless, etc, that's it. I'm not going to get
'the job'". I found out later that he was having his own fears, "Gee, she cute. I wonder how much longer
until she says, 'Thanks for lunch. Bye'."
John kept calling my dad and leaving messages for me. He thought it was weird that I was never home and I never
returned his calls, but I kept showing up for the dates anyway. We dated for about two months, and he never figured
it out. When I did tell him, he wanted me to move in with him. That was really scary for me. I was afraid that
he would start controlling me like the other men in my life who claimed they "loved" me. Once you move
in, they just start tightening the vise. I had been controlled to death, and I was very hesitant. I had to think
about it for a few weeks.
During that time, John encouraged me to go back to tithing. John has very strong religious convictions. Most Born-Again
churches teach that you should give 10% of your gross income, plus a little more, to the church. Then God might
decide to bless you financially. They have all kinds of verses to back this up. I did not want to tithe, because
in my opinion, God was always exacting stuff from me, and never gave anything back. When I was married, Richard
gave hundreds of dollars monthly to the church, but I had to buy all the family's clothes at garage sales. Once
I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes for my son, I had to ask his permission, and show him proof of the old pair
that it was really necessary. Often the church used this money to build new buildings, saying that it was "our"
church. But you know, when the rubber meets the road, you know there isn't a chance that they would let me spend
the night in "our" building. I didn't want to give my tiny bit of money to one of these big churches
where we used to go. It would be such a huge sacrifice for me to send in a small check, but they would probably
just thoughtlessly toss in the pile of money they have in a back room somewhere. However, I did remember a church
I used to go to for a few years when I was a teenager. They were small, and every week in the bulletin (which was
still is mimeographed) they would print both the weekly need, and the weekly offering. I remembered that they never
met their budget. I knew that anything I sent in would be appreciated. So to please John, who was being very supportive,
I sent them a small check. But I also put a letter in it telling them how mad I was at God, and how I was only
doing this to please John, and I was really in trouble. I defaced my address on the check because I really didn't
want to be traced. I wanted them to really appreciate the sacrifice I was making. A couple of days later when I
went to see my kids, Richard said that an little old lady had come by the house with food, and she was looking
for me. She said she was from a little church. I was really surprised, and really touched that someone was looking
for me. But who could it be? I only went to that church when I was in high school, and that was twenty years ago.
I only knew the youth group, and I certainly didn't know any little old ladies. I asked if he knew her name, when
he said it I was really moved. I did know her. She was the widow of the Senior Pastor. This really, really touched
me. Not only did someone care, but this was not the appointed woman's committee. She had seen the letter, became
personally concerned, went into her own refrigerator, packed up some food, and brought it over to the only address
in the phone book. It really choked me up. I said to Richard, "where is the food that she brought?" He said, "We
didn't know where you were, so we ate it." I was so angry (I don't think "not knowing where I was"
was a good excuse. I was at the same place every night, and every day I called my dad. He had never, ever inquired
as to where the mother of his children, sleeping in her car, might be.)
Richard, the spiritual man of God who prays over everything, had an even deeper low to sink to. I still had visitation
with my kids, so I would take them to easy places. One day I said to Richard, I am taking the kids to the park
today. I don't have enough money to buy them fast food, and I don't think they will eat the stuff I have in my
car. Could you please just pack them a lunch? He said, "Carolyn, that is not in the divorce agreement, and
if you don't like it, you can get an attorney." Ah, there's a loving dad. I'm sure God patted him on the head
for that.
John kept reminding me that his home was open to me. I was afraid of becoming dependant and then John might turn
on me, but on the other hand, I wanted a real bed, a lock on the door, and a real shower so badly. Plus winter
was coming, and the nights were going to get colder. I decided to go slowly and see how it went. I slept and showered
and ate in the house, but I kept the majority of my basic things in my car for months.
John did not turn into a controlling monster. In fact, he supported me emotionally and financially while I looked
for work, he helped me get a handle on my money again, and he encouraged me to go to computer school. Since John
is in retail, he worked long days, and so he was rarely home. I know he cares about me, but he is not there lording
over my every moment, decision and thought like other Christians. Because I had most of my basic needs taken care
of, and the freedom to take control over my own life again, this was a real major step towards pulling myself together.
What I Learned