Meche Maduro
Special to in Motion
If I had to chose one word to describe homelessness, it would be “devastating.”
I’ve been homeless for over a year. I’ve been homeless in four different states.
I’ve been homeless in far too many hotels to keep count.
I’ve been homeless for a couple of days or weeks on more than a few people’s couches and some spare rooms, too.
I’ve been homeless in three domestic violence shelters. I’ve been homeless in my car.
But all the time I was homeless, I was never alone. My 4-year-old son and two teen-aged daughters are also homeless.
Most people that we encounter and share our stories with seem preoccupied with why and how we became homeless. In essence, they want to know if I authored my own situation, so they can determine whether or not we’re worthy of their sympathy or assistance.
The whys and hows of homelessness are secondary to the who’s because my family is proof that homelessness can happen to anyone.
In my case, it’s difficult to make a long and complicated story short, but I’ll give it a shot:
Nov. 24, 2015 – A car drove into my home while I was preparing for Thanksgiving guests. The electrical system and foundation were damaged and the home was immediately condemned. Due to an insurance lapse the previous month, we ran through most of our savings within three months.
Dec. 2, 2015 – In a hit-and-run automobile accident, I was side-swiped on the driver side and run off the road. The collision occurred in front of a mechanic’s shop where I then encountered a head-on collision with a series of three SUVs, a boat, a tow truck and the mini brick wall of a sign advertising the strip mall next door to the mechanic’s shop. I suffered a shoulder injury and a concussion that lasted for more than four months.
October 2016 – While still under treatment for my shoulder injury, I returned to the workforce. I had given up my job of 10 years as an educator in 2014 when my son was born. This time, I returned to a new career combining my years of working with children and picking up from my unfinished legal and graduate studies in social work. I landed an administrative management position in mental healthcare, where I served as the director of technicians at a psychiatric residential treatment facility for adolescents who pose a danger to themselves and others. This position was short lived because less than two months later, my knee was badly injured in a staff attempt to restrain a client after he attacked me. During the attack, a staff member and the client tripped and fell on my leg. The institution subsequently fired me and has since been shut down and sanctioned by the state for various violations.
December 2015 until May 2018 – I was under medical treatment with chiropractors, neurologists, endocrinologist (spiked blood sugar from cortisone treatments), orthopedic surgeons, and physical therapists. Thank God for Obamacare or my situation may have been worsened by medical debt, as is the case for many who find themselves homeless. But the struggle to maintain employment was a barrier to my ability to eliminate our financial struggles.
January 2017 – The stress of these tragedies and their ongoing financial consequences became the straw that broke the camel’s back for an already fragile marriage. After it turned sour and then distant, the toxic relationship became a cycle of power and control, with financial deprivation the main tool of manipulation. Eventually, the cycle dissolved into cruel violence which made complete homelessness a more viable option. For nearly two years, I’ve been raising my children as a single parent with unsteady and sometimes nonexistent income from either employment or spousal support.
Many people are shocked and sometimes suspicious to discover I have a degree and still became homeless. None of them, however, notice the correlation to the high rate of under or unemployed college graduates living with their parents.
Does anyone wonder what happens to under or unemployed college graduates that don’t have parents or close extended family to live with?
Surprised reactions to factors such as my education level, help formulate my opinions about the general consensus regarding the homeless population and people’s general ambivalence of how easily they can find themselves in the same shoes. Other factors that seem to surprise people who know that I’m homeless is that I’m married, my children all have the same father and I’m not a drug addict or alcoholic.
Once your reasons for homelessness are given a sympathetic stamp of approval, you may proceed to the land of pity, lost dignity and unsolicited advice. In this land, you check any sense of pride and accomplishment at the door and remember your place of lower class status.
Although your reasons are approved, you are a failure. Failures must be taught by non-failures that have a place to sleep. “Homeless” is a shameful word that you whisper when applying for assistance and when you are asked to provide an address.
Still, people don’t think that you look homeless and you grow tired of explaining your whys and hows, just so you’ll be treated with dignity. Even with the homeless stamp of approval, people offer advice and solutions that they themselves would never conceive of following, but somehow, feel are fine for you and your kids.
If I come across as bitter, it’s because sarcasm is my first language. I wanted to write a story with a happy ending and I faithfully believe that someday soon, I will.
In the meantime, things are getting better. We’re still moving around from month to month; a pattern that I’m hoping will end in the immediate future. We’re still struggling to find and maintain stability.
I have found employment and I am auditing a couple of classes for personal enrichment that may lead to career options and opportunities.
My children still struggle with changing family dynamics and needless to say, depression has taken a toll on all of us. But we’re seeking treatment and I do my best to keep lines of communication open for them to express and share their feelings and experiences with others.
I’m glad to report that my oldest daughter has stepped up to the plate over the past two years. She has matured into a highly responsible young woman and is performing very well academically. She is a dual enrollment student at Daytona State College during this, her final year of high school. Her future is bright with many options for her collegiate path.
With the resilience of a child that grew from a fetus with only a 20 percent chance of surviving, my son is doing okay and loving the stability of formal preschool. These days, he’s taking swim lessons here on campus and focusing on learning to read.
As for my baby girl, sadly, she’s struggling the most as reflected in her recent troubling behavior. We made a tough call and decided that it’s best for her to be in her father’s care, so for the first time in her life, she’s away from me and her siblings.
Though I truly wish I could have ended this story with nothing but good news, homelessness is a reality and reality doesn’t always have a happy ending. The reality is that homelessness is devastating.