So you're homeless.
You've hit rock bottom. You've burned every bridge. Eviscerated every relationship.
You feel alone, worthless, anxious, depressed, disappointed, helpless.
There are days you wish you could curl into a ball and just die.
You're sitting in a field in north Tulsa with no money. It's pushing the upper 90s. The few pairs of underwear and socks you recently purchased have been stolen along with most your other possessions, including your social security card. You have no food other than the two pieces of bread and some warm days-old deli meat. There are blisters on your feet, so it hurts to walk, but you have no other choice.
Those are just some of the many challenges faced by those who are homeless. The above story is my mom's, and I'm sure many others.
So what does it take to no longer be homeless?
Help.
It's something very few homeless can easily access and that's when they are willing to put forth the effort. There are many mental roadblocks. No money. No support from family or friends.
There are outreach coordinators who do their best to go out and help those who are homeless, but they are way outnumbered by the number of those on the streets. Plus they have to earn the trust of the person and rely on that individual doing their part along the way.
Last week, I spent three days navigating the system with my mom. It started with her Nowata court appearance and then introducing her to the Tulsa Day Center, which I discussed in my initial blog.
Let me preface the following by stating my mom's experience is atypical to that of most who are homeless for a few reasons:
1. She has me. I learned very early that it's extremely rare for a family member to be there to assist through the process. Many have told me 99 percent of the homeless they see have no help from family or friends. In a way, I'm basically another case manager.
2. The article I wrote a few months back not only educated me on the process, but it also provided an opportunity to meet people, who are now playing a role in helping my mom become self-sufficient.
3. I have also been assisted by an unbelievably great friend, who has helped in reaching out to high-ranking officials at the agencies and staying on top of things as soon as we started the process. I wouldn't be doing what I am today had it not been for her work.
OK, so on day one a meeting was scheduled with a case manager the following morning.
Last Tuesday, I picked her up from a campsite and drove her to the Day Center, which is located in the northwest corner of downtown. That was a 4-mile commute.
She met her case manager, Marsha, and they discussed her history leading up to that moment. Marsha explained her role in assisting my mom get into housing. I sat in the office during this visit and did not chime in unless it was to fill in some gaps or help get clarification.
I couldn't help but marvel at the genuine compassion Marsha displayed when talking to my mom, who is one of the many homeless she works with every day. She thoroughly explained the housing program and how she will help along the way. Marsha said she will not file an application at a place she wouldn't want to live herself. That's amazing. My mom left the meeting with a surge in confidence.
To file a housing application, a person needs a state-issued ID, which my mom didn't have. For the last few months she has relied on her Cherokee Nation photo ID, which is also serving as a second photo ID throughout the process, and it got her into the doctor's office. She needed a certified copy of her birth certificate to get an ID.
That meant a drive from downtown to the health department that's basically in Broken Arrow. It's a 12-mile trip that includes the $15 fee to get a copy. For those who can't make the trip, an attorney at the Day Center can get it for you. It takes about a week, but the Day Center will pay half the cost.
Hanging out in the waiting room at the James O Goodwin Health Center.
We were in and out of the health department in about an hour. I paid for the birth certificate.
Our next stop was the Family & Children Services office next to the Day Center, which meant we were headed back downtown. Another 12 miles. If a person used the transit system how long would it take to go that far? (I honestly don't know the answer.)
Before we returned downtown, I decided to try to boost her morale by taking her to Gardner's Books, which is a great used book store I've frequented for years. I bought her a couple of books she wanted to hopefully help her escape this world for a few hours at a time. (Also, I discovered the library at the Day Center, which is sparse. So if you have any books to donate that would be a good place. Oh and if you do, I'd suggest paperbacks. Easier to carry.)
At Family & Children Services, she did a mental assessment. I dropped her off then grabbed her lunch and took it to her. After she finished there, she took her birth certificate into the Day Center for Marsha to make a copy of it for her file.
She wanted to go back to her campsite, so I drove her back and then went home. Along the way, she had a meltdown, which I've since learned comes around the same time every day when I'm with her.
That's a hell of day if you're not homeless and have a car.
The next morning I picked her up at her campsite and drove to the Tulsa Social Security Office, which was a 14-mile drive. I left her there and ran a couple errands.
Since she didn't previously have a state ID, but instead a driver's license, she could not get one at a tag office. Something we learned by trial and error. Another few miles that would have taken an hour or more by walking and/or riding the bus.
We then went to the Dept of Public Safety offices in what used to be Eastland Mall.
The DPS offices are located in the spot that used to be the Hotdog on a Stick where my mom always had to stop and get a cheese on a stick when we went to the movies in the now vacant theater located in the former food court.
The DPS waiting area in what used to be the Eastland Mall food court.
While sitting next to the fountain, I looked around the area and remembered all the times we used to go there to see a movie. I saw my first movie there ("Muppets Take Manhattan.") It was the first first theater I drove to on my own from Claremore (to see the James Bond movie "Tomorrow Never Dies"). I used to always eat a slice of cheese pizza from the restaurant on the opposite end of the food court. After a movie I'd sometimes get to play in the arcade that is now part of DPS's offices.
The wait was more than two hours. My mom slept on the bench beside me, as I tried to read a book, while listening to the numbers being called so I could wake her for her turn.
At the DPS office, they take the application then print out a form that you have to take to a tag agency. How hard would it be to have a card printer on hand?! (Oklahoma government services amirite?) I drove to the nearest tag agency, where I paid $25 for her to get an ID.
We left there and returned to the Day Center, so Marsha could make a copy of the state ID and her social security info to add to the housing application. Nineteen more miles.
She then returned to her campsite. Four more miles.
Overall, it took a tank of gas to run her around Tulsa for two days. I also paid for her meals and other items she needed.
Had she been alone, she could have accomplished half this list on her own. The rest would require a lot more time and money when you have to pay for an ID, birth certificate, bus pass to get around.
Also of note: At nearly every place, I went inside with my mom, but told her she had to do the talking. I was there for support. At many of the places, the workers would talk to her one way and me another. My mom picked up on this after we'd been to a couple of places. Their tone to her was harsher with a bite. When they'd ask who I was and I told them I was her son, not homeless, there to help, they would soften up and talk nicer.
When we left the second or third place, my mom asked me why the workers would talk down to her, but not to me? My response was "you're homeless and I'm not. They have to deal with a lot of you with different personalities and most aren't great."
I understand these folks deal with a variety of people who may not always be easy to handle, but a bit more compassion in customer service would go a long way. I can't help but wonder how many realize they treated me different than her?
That was just the beginning of the process. It's a lot of hurry and wait. I wanted to knock out all we could to get the process rolling. Now it's a waiting game. In the meantime, she will remain homeless and continue the process of getting mental help.
This weekend, a couple of ladies stole a lot of her stuff. My mom fled the campsite with all her belongings and hid them in the woods. Yesterday, I picked her up at a playground and took her to the hospital because her feet were in bad shape. From there, I drove her to get meds and then to a Family Dollar because she needed a new phone charger and she said they sell them cheap. I bought her charger. Plus they sell cigarettes cheaper there than QT. (By the way, I refuse to buy her cigarettes. I've been stern about it and remind her that due to her pack-a-day habit, she's spending between $150-200 a month on them when she only gets around $800 a month in disability and social security.)
I'd never been inside a Family Dollar until that moment. I had driven past it hundreds of times and never noticed it. I'm nowhere near worth much of anything according to my bank account, but I make enough that I can buy the cheaper items at nicer stores.
Everybody should go inside a Family Dollar. It's overloaded with junk food, and I had to pass five beverage coolers to finally find one near the back that had bottles of water in it. When it comes to food, those who are homeless have to buy things that won't spoil in heat, can be easily carried and be really cheap, so bags of chips are among the most popular food items consumed. (This is a reminder that these type of stores serve as a primary grocer for the poorer areas of the city.)
Yesterday, I dropped her off at the Day Center, where she spent the night for the first time. She said it was better than what she expected, and she was willing to stay there again tonight. There are no drugs or alcohol. There's a roof. There's an AC. There's security. They provide a mat, pillow and sheet. There's also a dinner served. Those who stay for the night must be there by 4:30 pm and are not allowed to leave and return until after 6 am. Women 18 and older and men over 55 can stay there overnight as long as they are working with a case manager.
She told me there is a myth circulating among the homeless that the Day Center charges those to stay overnight. There are many myths circulating about what agencies can and can't do. I have to keep reminding my mom that homeless people probably aren't the most reliable sources of information. That hasn't stopped her from telling other people what she's been doing to get help.
The entrance to the Tulsa Day Center for the Homeless, where my mom is currently staying.
So far so good. Now it's on her to continue staying on the path and working toward getting better.
I continue to take it day by day. I'll do what I can to help when I can. She knows it's ultimately on her to have another chance at a decent life.
When I dropped her off last Wednesday, she started to get out of the car then she turned back and said something that will always stick with me, and hopefully keep me optimistic even during the moments when she and the situation really frustrates me.
"I want you to know you're saving my life. I'll never be able to repay you for this. I'm so thankful for you and all your help."