Countdown to Homelessness...16 days...

My Ten Survival Principles

In 16 days, my son and I will be homeless... I’ve been without work for 3 years. Lost my house, my garden, my bank account of 30 years, and—almost—my self-respect. Lost a few friends and some family too—(becoming homeless will re-write your address book for you) and discovered the extremes of, both, the lengths some people will go to in order to help and the depths some people will go to in order to take advantage of you—I have labeled them the angels and the jackals.

As a writer, I have recently discovered that the worlds that used to hire writers are changing so fast that no one seems to know what is happening. Publishing is in chaos with the explosion of free information available on the Internet. Book sales are down—some of that is due to the way the Internet is transforming the world, some of it is caused by the recession. I flounder around, looking for jobs to do the only thing I really am good at, (besides gardening and getting in trouble)—writing.

When I lost my house last August, I took a 1 ½ bedroom apartment, for September 1st, hoping against hope that my small income of royalties would cover the rent until I found a job.

Then—the economy hit the skids. Actually, as a single mother, raising two kids at the time, I saw that the economy was floundering nearly two years before it was ‘official’—official meaning that everyone suddenly woke up and knee-jerked their reactions and set off the trickle-down in real time to those who had been already struggling with just the basics.

I filed for a Chapter 13 bankruptcy but the court declared I could not afford it. I was too poor to even claim bankruptcy. Chapter 7 would have captured the only tiny income I had, my royalties, so that was not an option.

I went to public assistance and was given a grant of $320 for food and $192 cash assistance for all other expenses each month. For the past six months, we’ve lived on that. That and the generosity of my best friend who throws me a $20 now and then.

I’m months behind in my rent. My royalties have never come regularly, but now they’re not coming at all. My landlord, a wonderful man, has been very patient with me, but he has his own problems to deal with–problems that, frankly, I wouldn’t trade my own problems for. He came to me with such sadness and regret to say that he had to evict us. I agreed. It was time for us to go.

So, today, I’m cleaning and getting the apartment ready for him to show it to potential renters beginning tomorrow. I don’t know where we’re going to go, my son and I. We have no money to rent, and, at least on paper, we really look like a bad risk. The sadness inside of me sometimes overflows and wets my face. I battle with the shame of it on a moment to moment basis.

But here’s how I’m dealing with it:

First: We only have today.

—Tomorrow is too far away to think about. Do we have everything we need today?
—Yes. We have food, clothing, so-far we still have a roof, and we have each other.

Second: What can we do TODAY that could seed our opportunities tomorrow?

—This means trying to make calls, ask for help, bite the bullet when we hear no and pick up the phone again to make another try. It means to keep looking for work, keep learning the new directions that the world is going and keep training myself for future opportunities to open up.
—It also means that we need to take care of ourselves and each other—we are all we’ve really got.

Third: I try to put things in perspective.

—Things always could be worse. Always. Sometimes I literally sit down and write a list of my blessings just to get me through the day.
—Since I am a news hound, and one of the ways that I am training myself is on Twitter, (which is changing the world in profound ways), I get to see how people are struggling around the world. My problems seem small in comparison.

Fourth: Say ‘Thank You”

—I’m grateful for every little thing in my life. Really. For the small kindnesses like people holding a door open for me at a store and for the unexpected gifts that seem to come right when I need them. Last week, I had to go to traffic court. I’d been a bad girl—and I was there to get my consequences. At the roll call, I said I was ‘here’ and the clerk said, ‘Your case has been dismissed. You are free to go...” I was stunned. There was NO good reason to dismiss my case—I’d been speeding. Period. And I’ll never know why they dismissed me. But, I won’t argue with a gift-horse. Clearly, someone ‘up there’ knew I needed a break and gave it.
—I’m grateful for even the bad things, the jackals, the losses. They have made a better woman out of me. A song that I love goes, I’m grateful for every break in my heart... —and I am. Each enemy, each loss, offers up a choice for me to get down to their level or to rise above it. I’m certainly not perfect. I can give the one-fingered salute just as easily as anyone else can. And I do. Oh, yes, I do... I get down there in the mud and roll around in it—for a while—feel sorry for myself—for a while—mutter and complain—for a while—and I know that this is the part of me that I could easily succumb to. But then, I get bored. It doesn’t renew my energy. It doesn’t make me feel very good about myself. And, these days, I need all the energy and self-esteem I can muster. At 15—I read Man’s Search for Meaning, by Victor Frankl, and took from him a mantra that became my life-long life-line—If it doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger...

Fifth: Remember that the only thing in this life that is ultimately important is love.

—I don’t have to love everyone. I don’t even have to like the people that I love. But I DO need to tell them. Regularly. Show them. Love is action. Love is willing sacrifice. Love was the only thing that mattered to me when my husband died before I had one last chance to tell him I loved him. On 9/11, the only thing that the people who were about to die wanted to do was to say, I love you to the people that they loved. Loving others sustains me far more than I sustain it. It gives me direction, purpose, something to complain about! and that touch that I need to feel connected. When I look at my one year-old grandson, his whole being exudes love in a way that I believe is within us all. I need to love others much more than I need to be loved—although, I'm no stoic! It’s the one thing in this life that makes me certain that there is a God.

Six: Laugh. A lot. It makes forgiveness possible.

—I have a very bad habit of looking for the twisted in everything.
—I try to see the humor in the ugliest situation or person. It makes good use of my anger—I tend to be funniest when I’m really, really angry.
—I make a baby laugh. Nothing gets the love endorphins going like making a baby giggle—not even chocolate.
—I laugh at fools
—I snicker at the contradictions in life
—I laugh at my enemies—it pisses them off in such a rewarding way!
—Most importantly, I try to laugh at myself. I’m the biggest fool of all. I’m the biggest baby. I’m the biggest ball of contradictions I know. I’m my own worst enemy at times.

Seven: No matter how bleak it seems, somewhere in the mess, there’s an opportunity.

—I use what I’ve got. Start from there. I try not to put on airs. My grandmother told me when I was a little girl that it didn’t matter what I was wearing — “You just wear it like it’s supposed to be that way.” She lived through the hardest times in this country’s history and designed dresses for Loretta Young. During WWI, Coco Channel wasn’t able to get the fabrics that her customers normally wanted so she took the fabrics that were plentiful and made them fashionable—and comfortable. She shorted dress lengths so while the men were away fighting wars, women could do the work that was needed with more freedom. She also wore the first pants—and made them very sexy.
—Without all this pain and struggle, what would I have to write about? How would I know what I am capable of? What would I have to measure myself against? And, where would my best ideas come from? Push me to the wall and I do my best thinking

.
Eight: Stay generous.

—I try to give. The worse it is, the more.
—I don’t buy into the thinking that there’s 'only so much to go around...'—there’s plenty for everyone. When I lived in Mexico, I noticed that the poorest people were the most generous. It humbled me.
—I pay it back—and pay it forward. The day that the angels smiled on me in traffic court, I saw a young mother struggling with a pesky three-year-old having those gawd-awful three-year-old tantrums. It was a hot afternoon. She was resting up before the long walk to the bus stop. I remembered how it was as a young mother—the constant state of exhaustion mixed with the increase in demand. I had my car, so I offered her a lift. It stopped the three-year-old’s tantrum (distraction always does), gave her some rest from the heat, got them to their appointment early, and cost me about 50¢ in gas. I told her of my good fortune in court and she brightened up too. The rest of the day I had energy to spare.

Nine: Acceptance: Boy, this one is the hardest one for me.

—I don’t mean, give up. I don’t mean, surrender—at least not to the enemy! I mean that I have to accept where I am at any given point. If I don’t I’m lost. After all, how would you know which map to use if you didn’t admit where you were starting from? YOU ARE HERE.
—There’s only one thing for certain—everything changes. No matter how permanent it seems on any given day, I'm no seer. I just don't know what will happen.

Ten: Don’t give up before the miracle happens.

—I remember how many times I’ve wanted to give up and didn’t. Then I remember how it paid off.
—This isn’t magical thinking. I’ve put in enough time on this earth to have seen things that defy explanation. Or logic. I’ve even been the recipient of some of those miracles. They happen. You don’t hear that much about them because, well, quite frankly, most of us are rendered speechless by them. But, they happen.

So, these are the ten tools I use to survive. Nobody gave them to me in a self-help book, (although I'm sure there's one that would!) I developed them over a lifetime. It’s nice to write them down because I can see them better. Nice to consider that maybe I have learned a thing or two as I’ve stumbled along.

With these things in mind, I figure this: If we end up homeless on June 30th, I’ll accept the idea that this experience is going to lead me where I need to go. All my life, I've written. That's what I do. I write for people. I write to their hearts. I write so I don't feel so alone. So, maybe I'm supposed to write this.

If it happens, I will need to think of being homeless as being 'on assignment'. Maybe I’ve been directed here so I can write something that will help others. There aint no way you can do it from the outside, that's for sure. George Orwell intentionally put himself in the slums and ghettos so he could write, Down & Out in Paris & London—and it is a fascinating work, but it’s not real. He always had a safety net. He was always an observer. He made a great piece of literature, but it didn’t change the world.

Tom Stoppard once said,

Words are sacred. If you get the right one in the right place, you can nudge the world a little.

So, I’m going to try to chronicle the time ahead. I would love to hear from people. I would love to hear other stories that are like mine. I’d love some help. Either way, this will go into ‘the book’!—(a writer’s metaphor to offset the feeling that THERE'S NOBODY OUT THERE!!)

This morning, my son wanted to go out to breakfast with some friends at a local bagel place. He’d earned $20 yesterday, helping out a neighbor and had given me $5 of it to pay me back for some things. We argued—we never argue, by the way, and then I realized how hard this was on him. I took out the $5 and held it out to him but he refused it. Then we argued about that until we both looked at each other and busted out laughing. He took the $5 and had a great time. In view of the whole scope of life, that is one of those small gifts I will remember on my deathbed.

Copyright © 2009 Stephanie Ericsson All Rights Reserved