My Rape was Legitimate, Too.

My name is Katrina.  The second time I moved to Portland, I was homeless.  This was just before I met my husband, for my friends to understand the timing.  Actually, literally right before.  Anyway, I was a stranger in a strange city. My first night homeless, I was shown a place to sleep by a questionable character.  I woke up at 1 am to find him sitting up with his backpack dumped all over his lap.  I can't even guesstimate the amount of pill bottles and syringes he had.  I quietly laid back and stared up at the sky, and realized just how scary the world I am in really is.

I got about 4 hours of sleep that night.  Packed up my stuff, and I took off at 5 am. As soon as the sky showed signs of lightening.  I made a "Free hugs" sign because that freaked me out so badly I needed some form of comfort.  Later in the day, in my random wanderings, I ran into a guy.  He seemed really nice- he was very charming.  I don't remember his name.  He was taller than me, about 6' and didn't seem that threatening- as stupid as it sounds, he was wearing a polo shirt.  This was the day I'd learn looks can be deceiving.

He said he'd show me where I could get some dinner and asked if I wanted to go hang out and drink some "Four Loko's" later.  I grew up in Upstate New York.. I had never heard of them.  They sounded weird, but interesting, and though I don't drink I decided sure, I need a friend.. This guy seems nice enough, right?

Wrong.  He took me to the Rescue Mission for dinner, where there were people crowded at every table and it was served cafeteria style.  I saw people who had been homeless for years, it was almost entirely men.  It was unnerving, but I made it through.  We went across the river to "find the spot" to drink, and slipped into a crack in the fence by one of the Hotels on the East side of the river.  An alarm bell went off in my head, and I got a bit paranoid, but he got a little impatient so I went ahead.  We were sitting less than 5 feet from the freeway in these weird trimmed up bushes, and there was a giant building right next to us.  He opened one of the four loko's and offered some to me.  I don't drink, so I didn't drink much of either of the two, I drank maybe altogether half of one, probably not even that.  I started to feel really weird, like time was distorting and my head was heavy.

I don't think he drugged me, to be honest with you, I have a really nasty reaction to alcohol anyway.  I feel like, dead inside or something when I drink, like my body is just this puppet thing I'm attached to.  Freaking weird, to say the least.  Note, I don't drink enough that I realized that that'd happen to me.  Anyway after only a few drinks I started to feel weird then realized hey, shit, I am alone with this guy.  No one knows where I am. I know where I am.  Okay.  Stop drinking.  So I did.  I think I might have accidentally told him I was feeling weird.  He definitely noticed when it was time to stand up, I needed help standing.

He helped me get to the nearest Wendy's, but I don't remember how we got there. I apparently had already started blacking out.  (I hadn't eaten anything but that small dinner at the Mission)


When we got there the depression hit- there's a reason I never drink, I don't like it.  I just wanted to be social.  I was miserable, queasy, felt gross..  All I remember is him asking where I had money and I didn't want to tell him my wallet, where I had some twenties, so I told him about the change in the backpack, where I had about 10 bucks in quarters or something.  He went up to the counter and got me a drink and a small burger and made me eat.  Not like, angrily forced me, he was actually really nice about it.  Then he said something about asking if I had anywhere to sleep that night and I said no, so he said he'd let me "sleep it off on his couch".


****TRIGGER WARNING***
Right.  I remember very, very vaguely following him in the rain, just watching his feet in the dim light the streetlights emitted, and following him through puddles.  By the time we got there I was soaked, and miserable.  I don't remember most of it.  I only remember maybe 5 minutes of the trip.  He opened up the door to this old van thing, like the kind carpenters or people like that use who fix up houses?  Then he said I needed to get my wet pants off and get warm, so I did.  He still hadn't done anything threatening.  So I huddled there and I think he talked my ear off for about twenty minutes and I fell asleep.  That's when it began.

I woke up to him inside me.  This still makes me feel sick, though it happened in 2010.  I woke up to a big shape over me, and he was already having sex with me.  I don't know how long he had been, because I felt slimy down there, and had a vague memory of something to do with saliva to make me wetter or something. I don't know, it makes me want to puke.  It was terrifying. It was pitch black, so to my terrified half-awake mind he looked like a demon.  It seemed to go on and on and I felt like I was covered in slime (though I wasn't) and totally disgusted.  I asked "What... What's going on?"  "What are you doing"  "Please stop, I want to sleep.."

"Just one more minute.."  It lasted longer.  Finally with me crying and freaking out he sighed and laid down next to me.  I rolled over away from him.  It was too dark and I was too scared to even THINK about putting clothes on, it didn't even occur to me that I could have until the next day.  I stared at nothing in that dark cluttered van, eyes wide open, trying to calm down and go to sleep.  Then I felt his hand between my legs.  I kept saying for I don't even know how long "I just want to sleep.." "Please let me sleep"

The next day I definitely felt violated.  I felt like flames between my legs and NOT in a pleasant way.  I woke up and couldn't find my clothes because the alcohol had hit me so hard the night before. He grabbed them for me and when I would have taken off said he'd show me to the MAX.

MAX?  What the hell?  I got outside and was hit even harder by terror of how badly it could have gone. It was terrifying enough but apparently whatever the hell a "Four loko" was, I *hadn't even remembered a 45 minute train ride*.

I had no clue where I was. The city was nowhere in sight. I was tense, quiet as he led me past a college campus I didn't recognize, and to the max station.  He asked if I needed a ticket, I said I was fine, and he left.  That's when I remembered something he'd said while I was drunk the night before.  He'd talked about being an ex con and having an ex girlfriend and a kid.  It hadn't registered.  I shuddered all over, thinking about how much worse it could have been.

I met my husband that day.  I don't remember if it was that day or the next or a week later but I tentatively confided in him (He was just a friend at the time) about feeling like I was burning. I had a urinary tract infection.  When I went in to the Outside In clinic, they asked if I wanted to talk to someone about it.  I said sure, but it never happened.  They asked if I wanted to be tested for STD's and I said yes, and was terrified that I was.  Thankfully, it was just a nasty urinary tract infection that lasted 3 weeks.  This was a rape, too.  Even if you have a rape happen for you, you DO NOT and CAN NOT speak for other people who have.

Making decisions for people who've been raped amplifies that feeling.  You don't have the right.

Police Brutality

This is an entirely opinion oriented blog(as all mine are...) and as such you are entitled to disagree with parts or all of it. Just gotta get some things off my mind.

So far since Occupy's inception we have seen a vast multitude of police abuses across the board, and a very diverse assembly of reactions to such.  From the old woman in Seattle who was pepper sprayed, to the now Pepper Spray Cop meme from the guy in Oakland who acted as if the protestors were not even human, to the beatings in every city (The Marine who was beaten in Oakland I believe it was, a woman who almost had a broken neck from something hitting her in the jaw/neck so hard, a 15 year old here in Portland's been brutalized more than once, a woman I know was grabbed by the hair, the list goes on and on) we have seen pain.

It's not nearly over yet. Judging from the past protests, all the way back to the 60's, those "in charge" have always answered any kind of uprising(Not even necessarily a threat to their way of life, just people using their first amendment right to say their piece) with violence.  In rare cases, perhaps I'm wrong. But more often than not, I'm right in this.

I'm here to say that, obviously, that's not right. I will get a bit more opinionated then go back to the point, so give me a chance and keep reading, please.

I am pretty strong in my "hippie views", though I don't like labeling myself. I don't like that I am labeled as an American because I happened to be born here. I don't like that due to that label, I need to pay taxes that are not used for things I agree with, and that I need to abide by rules other people who have never met me made.  Some of them make sense to me, others just seem arbitrary at best.

I find it disgusting that the rights we were "Given" in this country upon its inception, the rights the original people who moved here chose to uphold because the were being ignored in Europe are now being ignored and twisted by our own government. We are becoming a fascist nation, with the only differece being we don't have one specific dictator. In a way, I wonder if this is not worse.

We are becoming bound up in our own contract, in our own laws, tied into knots around our ankles and wrists, the wording twisted to suit those in power.

I have a serious problem with the fact that without a petition, aka approval, a group cannot march for whatever purpose without the fear of police brutality just because those in power don't like to hear criticisms.


No. I will not be quiet about the fact that I am afraid to march, to make my opinion known for fear of my son's safety. An infant, 4 months old. The fact that we the people have come to accept this as a matter of course is disturbing indeed.


Because once you accept it as a necessary evil, it's that much harder to change.


I shouldn't be afraid to voice my opinions, and take my son along in a baby backpack. These are our rights we are talking about.  It's a deeper issue in my opinion than just cops hitting people (which is terrible enough), but more a matter of us being silenced effectively in a way that goes against the very Constitution our laws are based on.

But I'm not kidding myself. Things are going to get worse, not better. This is a fight that will not be won easily.  There may even be deaths. People are angry, and people are getting confused, mixed signals.

Some who are not protesting have been fed propaganda to such a degree that they've grown accustomed to thinking of Protestors as people who are "disturbing the peace".  The thing is, the peace is a lie- it is already disturbed, it's just hiding under a thin veneer of "Everything is okay".

Even if protestors were "Disturbing the peace", it is our right to take up problems we have with our government. If the Government no longer works in your favor, make a new Government- but that's not so possible these days, is it?


I am positive the violence will escalate. And that bothers me.  I'll protest, in my way, but the fact that I can't be on the street for the fear of the safety of my child is a very strong sign that something is wrong.

Explaining Me

In some ways, I may seem passive aggressive. I really don't mean to be. I am just that socially terrified. I don't know what to do, so it builds up and builds up and builds up until I cry, or yell.  People scare me, especially in situations where there's something they're doing that really bugs me or hurts my feelings. If I trust you enough, I might mention it, and it might come across as nagging. I don't mean to, I just don't know how else to approach it other than keep repeating it, if nothing's being done.

But with everyone else, I just don't know how to. When someone who is staying over does something that upsets me, I shut down And it's stupid little stuff that shouldn't matter to most people, but it really does to me. I believe in fairness, and in certain things that are Mine.  It's stupid, I know, and it's OCD, and it's weird, but it really, really, deeply bugs me when someone sits in "My Chair", or drinks a soda of mine without asking. Idk what other people's social rules are... Mine are, if you want something of Mine, ask me for it. Yes, very time. Just because I gave you a soda last time doesnt mean I want to give you one this time. Especially of certain kinds. RC Cola? MINE. I haven't had it in years, and it's perfect. Pepsi has a funny aftertaste, and Coca-Cola is fuckin' gross. It reminds me of my dad, who I haven't seen in two years. He loved RC Cola too.(He's still alive..)

I have candy in the house, and it bugs me when people eat through it... Yes, there's a lot of it.. There's a lot of it because my logic is to buy a large amount at once, and it will last me a month. A bag of Crunch Bars will last me about 3 weeks.. I eat 3-5 a day MAYBE, and either when I want the taste, or when I am so hungry I'm feeling weird. When I'm that hungry I can't think, and I'm more emotional than ever. My logic is kinda messed up right now, I don't know why, but in my brain there are, for lack of a better term, "Rules" that I don't even understand. They're just there.

I can't think of anything to make for breakfast, so I don't. Milk gives me nasty indigestion. Eggs are too much work. Bread gives me heartburn. :/ It's stupid, I know. I'm working on it. When I am that hungry that I can't think, I'll eat one or two to get some sugar in my system and then I deal with my hunger.

I'm really fucking moody. I might suddenly NEED to clean. Other times I might spend all my time on my computer. It's my comfort zone, I hate face to face interactions. I get terrified.

The weirdest part? I don't want to bring shit up, and fundamentally CAN'T because I don't want to hurt people. I guess I figure most people are as sensitive as me, or something.

So, that should explain me a bit better.

They're Revolting!!!

No, really.  Call it what you will, the French have changed the paradigm. About fucking time.  http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/07/opinion/krugman-those-revolting-europeans.html?_r=1

At least someone is. I keep hoping America will do something to fight the status quo but for a multitude of reasons, a good portion of Americans are content to sit swilling beer and griping about the current president, as if he is to blame for all our ills.
Yeah, I said it.

I have a problem with people.  Not merely my social anxiety, I have a fundamental issue with people.  At least, a lot of the ones I've met. I'm sick and tired of people being content with the problems of the world, accepting it as just how it is, not accepting that they have the power to change.

I know, I know, we have essentially been taught our vote doesn't matter that much. After all, we are just one person, right?

Yes, that is true. However, it is also true that most Americans are furious as to what's going on in our wallets, our government, our lack of jobs. We are getting pissed. So why the hell are we not doing anything about it?

My opinion? We don't know what to do.  Occupy started something that's helped. Do I think that will be the end of it? No. Do I think that that is what will fundamentally change it? Read the article I posted yesterday about the woman evicted at 3 am at gunpoint.  The cop in there didn't even believe that Corporations have a great deal of power in this country. Sure, he's in Georgia. That's no excuse ;)

We are all angry, and upset, and scared, and we feel powerless. Right? You walk through security at the airport and you're treated like some kind of sociopathic criminal who must be bringing a bomb on board.  Yes, I understand we have had problems with terrorists. I won't go into that here, though, that's a whole 'nother ball of ranting.

We have been slowly taught, due to perhaps our parents, perhaps the mainstream media, perhaps public schools, that we are just one person. We can't make a difference. Even though every day we see the results of other people who finally got upset enough to say something, we just write it off as there's something special about them.

I think the one problem America might have is the laziness and fear. Not just laziness as in sitting in front of a couch and watching football. I mean the entire paradigm we have. People don't always vote. My dad doesn't, he doesn't see the point. With the electoral college, I kinda don't blame him, but still.. Until you say something, you're just one more person who has stood back and let it happen.

I for one am sick of letting it happen. I'm not out on the streets because I have a 4 month old I'm breastfeeding and cops have a bit too many frustrations they like taking out on peaceful protestors. But I will blog. I will talk. I will vent, I will vote. I will make my point clear.

France realized how ridiculous the "suck it up, it gets better" mentality we're being force-fed is.  They stood up for themselves, and it's changing.  They did something about it. So when are we?  I can pretty much garauntee you that something else needs to happen than Occupy. Some other movement will spring up because of it, and then there will be two.

We need to do something.  Otherwise it's just going to get worse.

Emotions: The Tidal Waves Within.

I have never been diagnosed with anything, mostly because I've been too poor to have insurance or too scared/uncomfortable with the concept of a therapist/psychologist.  So, instead of talking about labels, I'm just going to talk about where I've been, where I am now, and where I hope to be one day.

I've never understood other people's emotions all that well.  I know my own, as one who lives on the shore learns to know the signs of an oncoming tidal wave that could destroy all they care about. I have spent so long in my own mind, traversing the mazes within to find the keys to my own stability. And I did find some, so it hasn't been for naught.  But..  I was terrible. I accept that. I know that. I still feel... bad doesn't cover it. I feel terrible about it, but terrible is just a word people lump on things to make it easier to explain.

Whatever was going on in my head those years ago, it manifested as different things, different emotions and behaviors. All contorted out of context, and reality into something far more disturbing and dangerous. In a way I'm GLAD that in 2007-2008 no one really knew me in person.  The only person was Glenn, and that relationship has been damaged by that.  There will always be a gap between us now.

I'm glad because had I been more social, it's very possible I would have been locked up. I'm glad because no one deserves the backlash, the cruelty I casually dispersed when I was so blind with rage at whatever was on my mind at the time. I'm glad because no one else was hurt... Only online.  Only through the screen of the web could I lash out and attempt to infect others with my so called righteous fury.  Only through the veneer of reality of the internet could anyone see the psychosis I experienced, up until whatever it was that happened that fateful day in April.

Only online could people see the real me that existed then.  To anyone in person I must have just seemed dark, weird and angry. I spent all my time in my room, unhealthily so- And I mean that literally. All I consumed were pastas, and rockstars. Up to 4 of the huge ones a day.  At one point there were 3 types of mold in my room because I was so mentally unhealthy, trying to battle the rage in my mind (which is quite possibly what led to the events of 4/14/2008) that I didn't. even. notice.

I was not in a good place, at all. Though sometimes still I say I want the world to burn, back then it was more than just a minor haunting shadow behind my head, remarking when I saw terrible news, or cruelty.  It was a yearning, a terrible, consuming wish that the world and everything on it would burn, metaphorically and actually. Honestly, I am amazed I came out of that on my own.  It built up and built up and built up, consuming every waking moment of my life, between that and bouts of almost narcissism. With a twist, of course, because my human life is so boring....

That's where my creativity came in. Amazing stories of strong, awesome characters filled my head to the brim, just appearing on their own, and at the time, I thought I was experiencing past life memories. Who knows, maybe I was. My mind constructed reasons for all my angry thoughts.

Anyway... Trying to stop myself from being angry was like trying to chain down a dragon by diving on it and trying to put a regular necklace on it.  While the dragon is thrashing around and throwing you against boulders etc.

Then, one day... Well, one morning after I'd stayed up all night on some stupid whim, my brain cracked, and colors came out.  And yes, I mean I literally hallucinated.  I had gotten out of the shower, and pulled the hoodie on over my head, and bam.  My center of balance was ... just gone. I could see crystal clearly without my glasses for a moment, and then everything came crashing down.  The bathroom was yellow/green.  The hallway magenta.

My room was lavendar and underwater.  NOTE: I physically SAW these things. I felt my brain pulsating inside my skull and thought I was having a "brain attack".  My legs gave out when I made it into the room- It was as if they served to deliver me to my room and then were turned off by remote control. BAM.  I landed on my stomach facing the window/wall, my back to the closet. I could feel my icy cold hair on my back, and I thought I would freeze to death. My heart was pounding in my chest and I thought I was going to die from that.  I closed my eyes and rode it out for about 10 minutes, before finally making myself get up and find my glasses.


Ever since then?  I haven't had such bouts of rage with no reason anymore. I still have the rage, though it's shrunk a lot now. But whereas then I felt consumed by it and it had no direct reason, now it's an instantaneous overreaction I can calm down from. I can feel OTHER THINGS. It's amazing.



However... I still don't like it. Having no real control over what angers me. I know that it's not really something anyone can help that much, no matter how perfect they want to pretend they are. But I really dislike the idea of being consumed by fleeting feelings, and I still am. My default now is happiness, but the rage easily pops through to say hello when something angers me.  I mean, it's more than someone in a car cutting me off in the crosswalk, though.  I really have regained a lot of control without medication or any therapy besides my own haphazard, half-interested creativity. I wake up in the morning and have a smile on my face, happy to be alive. It fades throughout the day, but I don't just go into that unhealthy state anymore.

Sleep Psychosis?

I'm going to describe something to you guys the best that I can, in hopes that people at least are more understanding or someone may KNOW what I'm talking about.

It's been an issue since I lived in that apartment in Wilsonville, the really tiny one with all the mold? Allow me to attempt to explain.

When I sleep and am woken up ineffectively- that is, I am woken up but not ALERT, it sort of piles up. It happens occasionally and is beginning to happen more frequently and I'm getting worried. Hell, maybe I should try using an example.

Example 1: Last night.

I went to sleep with a slightly dry mouth and kept getting "woken up" by Jason. When I'm asleep, if someone drops their arm over me, or nudges into me, etc, it will "wake me up".  And not in a good way, I get bitchy about it. In this state I am sleep deprived so I tend to come off as whiny because I'm really annoyed and unhappy and just want sleep. That is my primal thought at this phase. However, when I keep getting woken up, I am conscious enough to realize that for example, Jason was waking me up in HIS sleep so I had to wake him up so he would stop talking to himself and moaning and inadvertantly elbowing me in his sleep. He got bitchy at me and while he was actually awake said something about "When you want to fix our marriage, let me know".  In that state, that's not gonna sink in, bad idea. I just laughed in a dark way and said I just want some fucking SLEEP.  Note, at this point I had been "woken up" every half hour for the past 3 hours. It was 4 am. I remember saying something to Jason who kept insisting on having a conversation with me to shut up because I didn't want to wake up Taby and Jake.

Now.. Okay. I *think* what the issue here is is that my brain gets stuck in between "the real world" and "the dream" in this nightmare phase. I even tried explaining it to Jason last night what the "dream nightmare world" was in an attempt to explain that I think there's a serious problem and he just laughed at me.

It's terrifying BECAUSE It's so simple and so real. When I am in that state, the dream is real to me and I'm trapped in it even when I'm awake and talking to you. I might be able to do some shit like go to the bathroom or shake you awake or answer questions, but nothing cuts through. Nothing. It's generally the same dream feeling too, the same general idea.. Being trapped and overwhelmed with SOMETHING.  Last night it was cake.

No... Really. The entire world in my dream, at least where I was, was filled with cake. It wasn't organized, just.. mixed together. Everywhere.  I had a dry mouth and couldn't get rid of it, even though I tried. The walls were cake, the ceiling was cake, everything was cake. It wasn't the cake necessarily that was terrifying, it was the fact that I couldn't make it go away. I couldn't wake myself up even when talking to Jason, it was still there in my head, I still felt like I was surrounded by it. In the end the only thing that woke me up at all was when Jason turned the light on and pitched a bitch fit about me being bitchy about him taking the blanket.

This isn't the only time it happened. What worries me is that in this state I am not myself. In one of these in NY when I was living with ex roommates, one of whom was a cutter, I almost self mutilated. Which for anyone who knows me is extremely, extremely odd.  That was a waking one, I wrote on a piece of paper all kinds of crazy shit and in different angles etc and in the center was FIND THE SQUARE.  The only thing that I could focus on was finding the square, and I couldn't find one so I almost cut a square into my arm so I'd always have it. -_-


Now, you tell me cake isn't fucking creepy.

In all seriousness though, that really scares me. I'm going to attempt to go back to sleep for a little bit. I'll expand on this later.

The System is beyond broken

Yes, I use System capitalized, because by this time it basically does have a mind of its own. A terrifying thought indeed. Allow me to explain my thoughts before you respond, please.  I've heard every single person I have ever met and held a medium, and sometimes even vague five minute conversation with, use the term system as a thing, something omnipotent and far beyond our control.

Sadly and terrifyingly, in some ways this is very true.  It's not because the system really DOES have some huge tall skinny white guy named Uncle Sam behind it, the thing that's really scary is that it has done so on its own, with slight help from the people who have the capability to change even small rules and regulations.

The example I'll be using is the homeless youth system of shelters and day programs etc. I live in Portland, Oregon.  I'm an observer of such things as human behavior patterns, systems that work and are broken and are all interwoven, and society in general.

Where to begin... That's always the problem with me. By the time I get to typing about it I'm already so annoyed that I don't even know where to start. My fury drives me on. I will however try my best to describe.  I see things as images half the time in my mind, and the system is like a huge conglomerate puzzle-like factory that has been blown up, shattered, and pieced back together in a very fragmented and jumbled way that still has pieces inside moving so badly that even common passersby know it doesn't work.

But it's scary to even contemplate fixing it because the general problem is you have NO CLUE where to start. We are raised in this society to believe two things that are polar against each other- That our voice and our vote matters, and that in reality we are only one vote. That vote doesn't matter against the majority.

I won't coddle you or pet you with a feather, it's true.  The system is broken, and there's not much you can do to fix it. Quite honestly, in my observation, given its current status, and this does sadden me, I don't think it CAN be saved. I believe this is one of those times where you have to destroy something for it to be fixed because you have to start from the ground up. And no, I don't have any plans to destroy it.  I don't think I will need to, but that's another story for either later today or perhaps tomorrow...

Right now I'm going to get personal.  Honestly, I have social anxiety disorder. Pills are not nor will they ever be the answer- yet again, another topic. My brain likes to go on tangents, I'm trying to keep it in check. Having social anxiety disorder, and being a deeper thinker than everyone you're around 24 hours a day 7 days a week is extremely frustrating in the long run. I pride myself on my self control. I truly do. If it wasn't for my sheer ability to keep my anger in, I probably would have hit someone before now out of pure frustration.

The system is broken.  I can understand the logic at the core, how it should work, but it's been broken by people abusing it. It's tragic, but true.  The system is broken because the people are broken, and more people are breaking because the broken system is rolling right over them, leaving shrapnel in their back.

I guess I will start from the beginning of my story(ish).  My third day out here, I met a very interesting guy who had seen me several times in two days. I say interesting because he must have had 30 piercings and tattoos on his face, was very tall and skinny, obviously a drug addict, and apparently seemed protective of me. He was very intoxicated and in retrospect probably higher than some clouds, and was insistent to a girl he knew that "I GET SOMEWHERE SAFE!"

I'm 5'4 and 120 lb. It was very sweet, if slightly disturbing at the time.  The girl was a pretty cool girl I've only seen twice since. She's probably long left Portland. She brought me to Porchlight. Ahh, Porchlight..

That's what got me started to where I am now. I found out that there was an emergency crisis center, and she brought me there and made sure I'd get up that night. I got upstairs, met my best friend who I had seen earlier in the day, and the next morning talked to one of the people who ran the place at 9 the next morning about my situation.

Porchlight is the crappier version of Streetlight, where I am staying now. In Porchlight you have a couple more freedoms- you can come in up until 6 am or leave when you arrive after eating without using any credits, and you only have 15 nights you are allowed to stay there.

Talking to the guy, I found out that according to the law, I have been considered homeless or at risk for homelessness for approximately 3 years. So, I was eligible for the program that Porchlight was part of- the Janus Youth Continuum.

They sent me to OI and I was then confused. I waited for about a week or two for a caseworker and began to realize a few things. One, sleeping on those mats is basically the same as sleeping on concrete, two there are bugs, three, half the people there are addicts, convicts, or otherwise creepy people you should stay away from, and there is NO stability. Finally though a week later I got a caseworker and a week after that I managed to get on the streetlight list to get upstairs.

That is where I have been for the last 2 months. Upstairs of Porchlight. It's a more stable shelter where you can stay as long as you follow the rules, do their little chores, etc. There are slightly better mattresses, you can clean your clothes, you can go to the clothing closet once a week and you have a locker.

However, the people upstairs were also once in Porchlight, not all of them were interested in bettering themselves. Finding underwear on the floor, toilets not flushed, stuff in the bathroom and showers, and having really rude people sharing a room with you is something you have to get used to.

Now we get into more personal stuff. Getting back to the social anxiety disorder, I get fidgety in crowds in tight spaces. Understandable, the main problem is the noise. It's very chaotic. I grew up as an only child and my parents were either ignoring me or screaming at me/trying to convince me to do something they wanted me to. (Don't get me wrong, I love them now as much as I can.)  I never had my own room growing up, I grew up poor. Or rather when I was with my mom I had a room but there was no lock. No privacy.

Until this happened I had two jobs, I had an apartment, I had everything. Sure, it was a motel room, but it was MY place. But what happened was because of the social anxiety I was having a harder time at both jobs, and long story short now I need to find more data entry type work.

Now I am living in a bunk bed in a shared room with at least one other person with two bunk beds and 2 sets of lockers squeezed into it. No matter where I go in shelter, I am not allowed to leave, and there is no privacy. If you don't lock the bathroom door, even if your feet are obviously showing in the space between the door and the floor, people will try to open it because they are so self absorbed in their own little lives they don't think about it. They whine about having to wait three seconds for you to wipe and flush.  They are solely interested in themselves and most of the time not even in helping themselves out of the situation.

In some ways I do understand why. When life kicks you in the face enough times eventually you just expect it and give up. I don't know what you can do for those people, and it bothers me.

I've almost gotten to that point myself, because I feel trapped and confused. Everywhere you hear "GET A JOB and get out of there then!"  Like it's so simple as just walking into a place and coming out with a job in this economy.  Like it's simple to do when you have to struggle to find decent interview clothes and have to share one iron with 60 people.

I can't concentrate anymore, unless I have a computer in front of me. I have a panic attack every day, sometimes as many as six and unless I get a job I can't get into trans housing, but if I get a job I won't really need trans housing because I can get a place. What I need is stability, a door on a room that I can shut the world out with to be able to get and maintain a job without having breakdowns. I don't like it. And I have an idea of what to do..

But basically the way the system works is the system won't help you if you don't help yourself, but you're nothing but a number, an expected normality that is believed to be the same as everyone else. The whole thing stinks, and I don't know what to do about it.


My patience for people is at an end, because dealing with the number of homeless youth I see every day, my "peers" in the eyes of Janus, is like having a 24/7 customer service job. And I'm already burned out on it.. I have to leave the day programs right after eating or else a panic attack comes on or I start flipping out at people for being stupid, rude, and immature to each other. I have ended up pacing back and forth across the floor while listening to Korn on my mp3 player from the days of money to avoid punching idiots at shelter. The only thing that helps is this blog, and that's not even a stable commodity. All I can say is FFFFF.