by “Blanche Belvidere”

Welcome to another riveting read about homelessness with Blanche!  Today, we will delve into trauma and its role in becoming unhoused.

Fun fact about ol’ Blanche:  I had trauma. I later became unhoused.  What say you?!  It’s true. And I’m gonna let it all hang out so everyone has something to sink their teeth into. Remember, no one suddenly wakes up one day and decides they want to be homeless.

Picture it….it was 1978…and a very young Blanche was diagnosed with cancer with a 1%  survival rate. I won’t bore you with the gory details about being a chemo guinea pig.  But I will tell you that a young child can get really screwed up by having lots of things done to their body against their will in front of groups of strangers and then being handed a toy afterward for “being a good girl.”  The emotional damage is similar to being repeatedly raped and told I love you. Yet you are too young to understand or process such emotions, nor are you allowed to talk about it. Ever. I watched many of my hospital roommates die. That’s some serious survivor’s guilt. There was no way I could adjust to being a normal kid after that because I had experienced more than most adults.

Just be happy you’re not dead, right?  You owe everything to the medical professionals that saved your life!  Oh, and now you will be the poster child for the Jimmy Fund for the next 10 years, and even though it’s highly traumatic to be shoved back into that environment, just smile pretty for the camera, ok? Make us look good.  It’s exploitation at its finest. Biting my nails until they bled just to numb the pain and flood of emotions. By my early teens, I was a chain smoker and had gotten into a few boxing matches. My father lovingly nicknamed me “Rocky.”  Shocker that I love the Golden Gloves. No one could imagine the level of rage I was forced to hold in.

This unresolved trauma caused me to live in survival and fight mode for the next 40+ years.  So much that I can give Bear Grylls a run for his money. I could write a book on this subject, but this venue only gives me a little space. Yes, there were plenty of other events and traumas over the years that followed that there is no time for, but it’s all connected to the beginning. What happened after one more not-so-tiny traumatic event was that the rubber band of my nervous system stretched to its snapping point. (I’ll save that story for a different series.) And I fled my home. I lived in my car. I had a little tent, and I moved around a lot. When it got cold, I was fortunate that friends welcomed me in and allowed me to stay with them.  On the outside, I made it look like it wasn’t happening. Internally, I was living with an unfamiliar level of anxiety because I didn’t know what would happen next, or how long I would travel in my underground railroad.

I lived like this for about a year because I couldn’t find an apartment I could afford. (There’s that housing crisis piece that comes into play).  I got lucky when my number was called to move into a 40B apartment. Yes, NIMBYs, I was one of “those people” you don’t want in your backyard. I burst into tears having a bed delivered. I found myself spending hours in the shower just because I could—my own private bathroom.  I also found myself having tremendous eye pain in the middle of the night, and discovered after visiting the ophthalmologist that I had been sleeping with my eyes open—another trauma symptom. I bet that looked creepy and I’m glad no one saw it. Oh, the horror!

If you speak to the unhoused, there will be a common denominator. TRAUMA.  Somewhere in their life. And who would ever think this about me? Strong, educated, hard-working. Immersed in my community, and spreading sparkly pixie dust everywhere I go.  I’m a pro at hiding the negative.  It has been almost 4 years, and I just recently started removing my survival gear from the trunk of my car.  I struggle with letting go of “just in case,” I always have Plans A, B, C, and D ready. And during that unhoused year, I utilized any and all resources that were available to me.  Everybody’s trauma is unique, and so are the ways in which they cope with it.

It should be noted that just because someone has experienced trauma, it does not mean they will become homeless. However, trauma is the gateway to many things. But what’s the point, Blanche?!

Peel back the layers of the onion with the unhoused. You will eventually get to the core of how they ended up in their current situation.  That’s when the healing and work can begin to fix it.  The answer isn’t as simple as sticking them in a hotel room, or even an apartment.  If you’ve lived on the street for an extended period of time, that sudden change would just be more trauma. This is where long-term, transitional supportive housing comes in. It is a long road to recovery. Don’t be so quick to judge these people. Many had wonderful and everyday lives at one time. And every single one of you is one paycheck, one life event away from finding yourself in the same situation. You better pray you have a solid support system, because not everyone does. WARNING: Not one of you is immune.

Cue “That’s Life” by Sinatra, light a cigar, and have a “Fine Whine with Blanche” while we toast to the grit, the guts, and the glory of the human spirit. Because if it weren’t for those exceptional survival skills and a whopping level of resilience, I’m not sure where the story would have ended. But it turned out that I’m a goddamn superhero.