Sometimes I can't believe I lived this, and survived,...mostly. I remember being cold, and wet all the time. Didn't smell too swell either. that, and always so tired.
You can't lay down, and sleep.
You learn that's just too dangerous...crazies, and or cops will get you. You squat in a shaded or dark place, and cat nap. An old friend, and his wife let me shower, and sleep in the safety of their home every few weeks. This so I could keep a few shreds of my dignity.
'...and them damned airport suitcases on wheels we all used.
I still have mine, two of them, in case I need them again. That's a common fear with "Homeless Survivors"...we might have to go out again. I think this is why I never bought furniture or large unmovable possessions.
My sister bless her.
She got me my bed chairs dining room set TV cable, and such. I was too fearful to get anything myself. I was waiting, and preparing for then next round. In some ways though it's years now I'm 'still' preparing.
The return from the "Outside" is like returning from an unpopular war. Nobody wants to hear anything from you. Most people even friends got tired became impatient of hearing about it. I sought counseling because I needed badly to speak about what had happened. However i could find 'none'.
Then I saw the truth of it.
There 'were' services for the Homeless, and those in danger of falling into it. However the City, and State had no budget for the few "Returned". They never expected any number of people to survive, and return. The bureaucracy basically expected most if not all of the Homeless to stay that way. Even die that way.
Those few that 'did' come back were statistically invisible.
We are Invisible.
We go about our lives now saying little or nothing about what for us was the most catastrophic event in our lives. Again like war veterans that never speak of what they saw, and what they did to survive.
Nothing more to say.