Sometimes, I just stop and think, “How in the name of hell am I living in New York City?” I came here three years ago because it was a better place to be homeless than the suburban New Jersey town I was in — better for survival and avoiding arrest for being poor. It was the peak of the COVID epidemic, and this was the epicenter. Somehow, I’m still here. There were times I was sure that the city was going to do me in, but it hasn’t yet.
There’s a kid who got booted from the program I’m in for fighting. He was texting me last night, asking me to Cash App him some money because he was hungry and out on the street. First of all, I don’t have any money to give away. Secondly: “If you’re hungry in New York City, it’s because you’re lazy” — Chessmaster Mike. I believe that. I told Tommy to go to a halal cart, tell them he’s hungry and homeless, and ask for a bite to eat. That’s how I always kept my belly full when I was living on the street. I’ve been a lot of things in this city, but honestly, hungry was never one of them. I told Tommy to go to the men’s Bellevue shelter intake, 30th and 1st get himself in the shelter system like I did, so at least he’d have a place to lay his head. The NYC shelter system is a whole different story that I won’t get into now but it is a bed.
I thought to myself about what a survivor I am, and maybe Tommy ain’t built like me to survive street life. Shit, I didn’t even know I was built to survive it until I had no choice. I have a history of chronic homelessness, and I want to try to convey what that feels like. Imagine: you just have no place to go. Think of your usual place, and remove it from the equation. You’re alone in the city, and you have no place to go. I won’t act like I wasn’t scared to death the whole time.
I honestly flashback to my days on the street sometimes. I think my experience counts as traumatic events. I go to therapy and talk about my past, and you wouldn’t believe how many times my therapist and I say to each other, “And that’s traumatic,” about some story I tell her. The effect of trauma wasn’t even something I considered until I got here to this treatment center last fall. A friend sent me a book about trauma, and I swear I’ll read it someday; it’s just a mentally heavy load.
I don’t know; if I come up on some money, I’ll probably help Tommy out with a few bucks because I know where he is, I know how afraid and alone he is. I’m going to give him advice about how to stay alive out there because I know. Plus, I’ve got a lot of paying it forward to do, given the blessings continually bestowed upon me from all angles.
I might not be the type that could win a fight with anyone, but that doesn’t mean I’m not really tough. You try to live half of the last decade on the street in New York City with nowhere to go; see how you manage.
if you want to donate, so maybe i can throw Tommy a 10er. click this link
