Encountering the Homeless

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I spent four years living without a residence address. Today, I am often asked what should be done when you encounter a person appearing to be homeless, and I still don’t have a clear answer.

In March of 2003, I effectively disappeared, moving out of my dormitory room, with no phone number or physical address. For three years, I spent nights in libraries, university area lounges, and in public bathrooms, paranoid of my family. I was unaware that my increasing detachment from everyone and everything I held dear was due to emerging schizophrenia.

Then, from late January 2006 through early March 2007, I lived outside. I had become resourceful by washing up in public restrooms, but at that point, my hygiene plummeted. I would even climb into dumpsters to look for food.

When I was finally picked up by the police for screaming back at the voices in my mind and taken to a hospital, my doctor determined that I was permanently and totally disabled. It was not likely that a person could be homeless for years, recover from schizophrenia, and resume a normal life. To my doctor, the notion was impossible. According to him, this was schizophrenia, and a normal, meaningful life would not be possible. Fortunately, he was wrong.

But one thing was sure. After beginning antipsychotic medication, my mind began to clear. With medication, I no longer wanted to be homeless. But when the untoward side effects of this medication showed up and I went off of my medication, my fervent desire to live on the streets again returned.

Today, thanks to faithful compliance with medication, I have made a full recovery. I enjoy my own apartment, and my life has been filled with family, friends, and purpose for 13 years. For me, the greatest factor for bringing me out of my homeless life was effective, long-term treatment for schizophrenia. For others, there may be countless other factors.

When I am asked what to do when you see homeless people outside on the streets, especially those who are soliciting money, I reflect on my own experience, and on the people who made a difference in my life during my years without a home.

At one time during my homelessness, I badly needed money to pay for my mailbox to stay open and to buy some new shoes, as mine were falling apart. I contacted a friend who I had known for years through the university. He and his wife invited me over, served me a homemade dinner, and insisted that I take the $200 cash which I had asked for. This family never judged me or asked any pressing questions. They remembered our friendship and resolved to help me in my time of need.

And then there was Scott. I met Scott through my church years back while a university student in good standing. He would come to my university apartment to attend prayer meetings which I hosted, along with other church friends, years before my life so dramatically changed.

In 2003, when I became homeless, Scott seemed perplexed. Sometimes I would run into him on the university campus, as I often walked the campus in the afternoon. He would invite me to lunch or dinner at a university area cafeteria, and he always paid the bill in full. He never asked me to provide the details of what was happening in my life.

Scott told me about his neuroscience Ph.D. program, and I told him about my efforts to learn about international poverty (as I spent so much time studying it online, obsessed with it in my illness).

I’m sure I looked disheveled, out of touch, and perhaps a bit dirty. I did not realize that I no longer appeared to be a student. But he was never rude to me. Sometimes, he recalled attending the prayer meetings at my old university apartment and said he wanted to return the favor.

Scott never appeared to have an interest in being my boyfriend. He was more like a brother.

There were a few other compassionate individuals who made a difference in my life. A janitor named Caroline, a few generous friends who saw me once or twice over the years, and an old roommate who met me occasionally. But I needed more help than they were able to give.

To this day, I don’t know how to respond to the needs of the homeless population. Perhaps it is honorable to offer money to people who have fallen so far. I do strongly believe in giving money to charities that serve homeless individuals, offering them housing and food.

Today, when I want to make a difference, I remember my role models who are the special family who helped me out financially in my time of need, and Scott.

I strive to follow their example with people I know in my life who are struggling, especially with mental illness. I hope to make a difference, through kindness, compassion, and generosity. As a friend, I find joy in reaching one life at a time.