I'm writing this, because I hope someone as ignorant as me will read it and change their mind about how they treat homeless people.
I just came back from lunch with my lab. I'm a Biology major, if you didn't know. And I'm doing my honours thesis with a genetics lab.
Anyway, I went to this lunch, but on my way there, I saw a homeless man. He was sitting down on the snowy curb, with a sign that read "Vet with P.T.S.D." followed by some other stuff. Don't know if I forgot the rest or if I never properly read it at all. The sign was made out of cardboard. Pretty typical. And he himself was appropriately dressed for winter- scarf, hat, jacket. He had deep creases on his face and a mole on his left cheek. He looked kind of bummed, but I suppose there's no other way to look when you're sitting on a snowy curb with a cardboard sign.
I usually walk past the homeless, to be honest. I've never been fond of them. I know society- our society- frowns upon that point of view, but it was how I felt nonetheless. I've always been a care-for-yourself kind of girl. It's not that I don't let other people care for me; I do, but because that's our society's mentality. As a server, I'm supposed to monitor your drinking. If you get drunk and do something stupid at any point in that state, even if it's the next morning, you can sue me, because I shouldn't have let you get that drunk. So that's our society, and I follow it. But something about people asking other people for money and goods always struck me as ignoble to the highest degree.
I tried to learn more about poverty, and I did. I have a friend who used to be homeless, and he always just spoke of doing drugs and engaging in violence. So it only shaped my point of view further.
To be honest, he's not my friend. He's my best friend's boyfriend. ex-best friend? She was my best friend in high school. She found this guy last year. He was abusive and awful, and I hated him. She isolated herself from everyone to be with him. Including me. Especially me. At the time, I was so mad at her. I couldn't fathom how she'd pick a guy over me. I didn't even ask her to do that. I would've been there for her. SHe kind of just did it. I realized later that she's not herself. She's developed so much anxiety, she can't even take the subway. She dropped out of school. She has no friends left. She has HPV- from him, of course. Anyway, I figured it all out too late. By the time I reached out, she wanted nothing to do with me. I think she thinks my messages were condescending. I'm president of a bunch of things here, and I have the highest grade point average at my university. She knows all that, so when I commented on her leaving school, she just pictured I was being pretentious. I wasn't though. The messages were coming from the bottom of my heart, not a high horse. Anyway, she doesn't want anything to do with me.
Sorry, the homeless. Not usually a fan, as I said. But that sign today. It screamed "I shouldn't be here, but I am. And this is how I got here." And of course, there is nothing dishonourable about a vet with PTSD.
I had $15 with me, so I put 5 in his jar. I've never done that before. And then I sat down on the curb beside him. We talked for a while, and I ended up being 20 minutes late to lunch.
His whole life was the military. When he was a kid, in high school, and then finally when he joined the service himself. He was in the infantry at some point, and he said that's where all the "damage" happened. I think it was 1976 when he joined. He also mentioned later that he bought Pink Floyd tickets right before his service. He wasn't supposed to leave base, but he did anyway. They were his favourite band. When he got back, he had to spend a night in military jail. It sounded awful, but after that, they were pretty easy on him.
His supervisors or whoever, they would bother everyone else, and then they'd go to him and say, "Roy, you did what you were supposed to do? Don't wanna go back to jail right?"
"No sir."
And then they'd move on. He thought that was hella funny. It is, really. I'm happy he went to the concert anyway. I bet it was fun. I don't think I would have, if it were me, but I'm happy he did.
He's been downtown since 1993. That's my whole lifetime. He wasn't homeless the whole time though. He worked at a bakery. He was a chef. An executive chef? Is that a thing? I think that's what he said.
Ugh, I can hear my housemates using the washroom. Only con to having your room right beside the washroom.
Anyway, he was a chef when he was out of the service. But then he beat someone up or something. That's what might happen when you have PTSD from the war. Things trigger it. Different things. And you're reacting before you can even process it. And then a sorry is too late. That's what John said, anyway. John's his first name.
So John took two weeks off. He tried to go back to work after, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to be a citizen in our society. It must be hard. Being a citizen of war and all, and then expecting to be a part of "normal" life right after.
He couldn't do it though. I don't think he knew how to do it. I think he tried, but he really couldn't. So he got some supplies, and lived in the woods for 5 years. Now he's on the streets. He's getting help at the mental hospital. He says he has a few people in his life. Six, actually. Six people that make sure he's doing what he's supposed to be doing. They remind him about appointments. They come looking for him if he hasn't been around for a while. So on.
He mentioned that he had to learn how to be an adult. He knew he was an adult, but he had to learn how to be one, he said. "Okay I've got to shower. If not everyday, then every other day." He said that, as an example. I thought that was kind of funny. Because you don't think of it, but it's true. If you never had to shower that often, you wouldn't think to shower that often. You really would have to remind yourself.
Anyway, it all became very clear to me.
I didn't used to have sympathy for homeless Canadians. I went to Kenya once. There were tons of people there who were robbed of their lives. Sometimes for political reasons, but not always. They had no help. Not like here anyway. They couldn't just sign up for welfare. Well, this Canadian vet I spoke with. How in the world is he supposed to be on top of all the welfare deadlines when he doesn't know how to live in this world? Such a capable man with his incapabilities carved out by his military experience.
I don't know. It makes you think. Sure, some people with PTSD got a real life together. My dad has it, and he copes. But some didn't, and they need help. And that's okay too.
No comments:
Post a Comment