THIS STORY TOUCHED MY HEART!
Homeless in Washington, D.C.
by Stephen Thomas (“Better Believe Steve”)
Published: August 4, 2009
Little did I know that I was headed for homelessness at age thirteen.
Growing up in the “hood” of Washington, D.C. for me wasn’t easy. In my neighborhood, I was the only kid whose father didn’t live with him. Single mother, two sisters and me. No father, no brothers and me. I was always picked on as a kid for one reason or another. Either it was because my father wasn’t around, or because while playing around the house my sisters would dress me in girl’s clothes with lipstick on to play house with them and the other kids would be looking in the windows, or because I was the fat kid in neighborhood. Someone was always picking on me.
Real Homeless People - Stephen
Having low self-esteem and looking to escape my emotional pain, I found just what I was looking for at age thirteen when I was introduced to marijuana. Marijuana made me laugh. The evil words, people talking about me, didn’t hurt anymore. I started drinking the liquor and beer from what was left in the cups and cans after my mother had friends over. By age fifteen, I was selling pot and drinking beer and wine. I didn’t see this as a problem. By the time I had reached high school, I was smoking cigarettes, pot, PCP, hash, taking acid and drinking. It was what everyone else I knew was doing, so I saw no problem with me doing it too. This went on through high school.
After graduating from high school, one night while at a party someone asked me to try something that was in a pipe. When I asked what it was, I was told that it was cocaine. I’d been smoking cigarettes, pot, PCP since around thirteen and didn’t see a problem with me trying cocaine. I just meant to try it. I didn’t want to be a punk and not try it. It took me 30 seconds to try that cocaine that night and it took me 30 years to get off of it. During the next 30 years, although truly blessed, but not recognizing it, I lost five jobs that paid me between $50,000 and $80,000 dollars a year. That was five of at least thirteen jobs during that time. All five were lost due to my cocaine addiction.
Losing the jobs, having eleven apartments, being evicted from nine of them, losing my wife and child, distancing myself from my family and friends had all took its toll until I found myself in downtown D.C. on Pennsylvania Ave. standing between the U.S. Capital and the White House. I remember thinking about why so many dirty looking people were occupying all the benches that line Pennsylvania Ave. I came to realize that they were homeless, and so was I. I’d never thought about homelessness and had never used the word ‘homeless’. But, there I was, homeless, and I wasn’t alone. There were black folks, white folks, young, old. There were children and amputees. All homeless. On Pennsylvania Ave., in the nation’s capital, in the most powerful country in the world and we’re all homeless. I found an empty bench and made that bench my home for over a year. I lived on the street.
During that time of humiliation, of being disrespected, the embarrassment, being looked upon as less than a human being wasn’t easy. Standing in the long lines to eat at soup kitchens and hoping that someone would come by with a hand-out of food when you couldn’t make it to a soup kitchen wasn’t easy. The deplorable conditions of the shelter led me to stay on the streets year round. It wasn’t easy. Shortly after a year or so, after being broken down by homelessness and not feeling as though I had a reason to live, I couldn’t take homelessness any more.
Beaten and broken down, I cursed God for making me soft, for not giving me the strength to kill myself. I was done. I told God that night that I’d been digging a hole for myself all of my life and that I was going to lay in that hole and all that I needed was for him to throw the dirt over me. I wanted God to take my life.
That night God did just as I’d asked. He threw dirt over me, but instead of burying me, he planted me. Sometime during the night I was awoken by a doctor on a homeless health care van. It was as if he was an angel sent just to me. He asked me if I was alright and I said, ”No,” and began to spill my guts. I told him that I’d been addicted to drugs and alcohol for 40 years. I told him about the jobs, the apartments, everything and that I just wanted to die. He responded with something that no one had ever said to me in my life. He said, “Will you allow me to help you?” I said ”Yes,” and he directed me to Samaritan Inns for treatment of my drug and alcohol problem. After going through their 28 Day Intensive Recovery Program, I applied and was accepted in their Transitional Living Program where I stayed for seven months, after which I applied and was accepted into their Single Room Occupancy (SRO) Program. This program allowed me to exorcise my demons and begin to grow up. This program saved my life.
Article from: http://www.hearmystory.org/homeless-stories-intheirwords/true-homeless-stories-intheirwords-washington-dc-stephen-thomas.php
GO VISIT STEPHEN'S BLOG- http://www.betterbelievesteve.com/
Homelessness occurs all around the world... we might not personally know someone who has gone through or is going through it but we all need to realize that this is a serious issue that is occurring more and more often. If each of us could help a person like Stephen just get through a day I believe we would all live in a better place.
