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The following is a story from my newsletter,(Santa Barbara Community Street Voice News...you can follow us on facebook) I also believe that it begins my new journey in rediscovering my faith, not only in God, through Jesus Christ, but also in myself. So her it goes...
There are many success stories out there. In the short time that I have been in Santa Barbara I have met several people who I would call a success, at least as far as transitioning from homelessness, finding employment or going back to school. Their stories are far more interesting than this one, for this is my story. (I had to have something as a space filler.)
I do not consider myself a success, I don't think that many of us do, but I am a work in progress, just as this newspaper is a work in progress.
I am not going to bore you with details of an abusive childhood or cry about how dysfunctional my family was and still are. I am not going to say anything about my stint in prison, all of that belongs in the past and that is where it will stay.
For me, my life, as it was, ended when I arrived in Santa Barbara and a new one began. It's the new life that I wish to focus on. It's the new life that will be a success someday. Maybe not today, but someday; someday soon.
I came to Santa Barbara by accident. I was on my way back to San Diego, this was as far as I got. I heard about the shelter from another homeless person, a hitch-hiker that I had given a ride to Paso Robles had mentioned the shelter. He gave me a number as he got out of my car; a number that I never intended to call.
I left Oklahoma a few days before Christmas 2008 heading west. I knew I would be facing homelessness, after losing my job in November due to illness, and I did not want to be homeless in Oklahoma during the winter.
So I packed up my car and headed west in search of warmer weather. I had driven as far as El Paso when I changed my mind and direction. I ended up in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. I went to see a friend, but I missed out and I did not want to stick around, the police did not want me to stick around either, so I headed west again.
Three weeks from the day I left Tulsa, I arrived in Santa Barbara. I had no business driving in the condition that I was in, and for the first time in my life I was unable to work and that scared me. By the time that I arrived in California I was sick, actually I was beyond sick, I was dying (or so I was told). Dying and did not even know and when I found out- well, I really did not care. I gave everyone a hard time and was rude to quite a lot of people. (I am improving though, I am only rude to a small percentage now.)
I came to Casa Esperanza (a homeless shelter) around the 15th of January, 2009, by the end of my third week here I had been hospitalized twice. I had a nasty bout with congestive heart failure and ongoing chronic renal failure. Also my car had been impounded. (I was left with the clothes on my back. I wore the same pair of jeans for three months. I had to use duct tape to hold them together, they were so threadbare.) During my second hospital stay I decided to let go, I didn't care anymore. I was ready to let go; I wanted to let go, but a strange thing happened.
A doctor, whom I have not seen before nor since, came into my room. He asked if he could listen to my lungs, as he was standing behind me he asked how I was doing or feeling, so I told him. I told him everything, even about my wanting to to let go. I was surprised when he told me that that could be arranged. With a single shot, he said, I would drift away peacefully. I asked him if he was talking about what I thought he was talking about, the only thing I heard him say was "yes". For some reason, I found myself saying "that's right, I'm in California", I then told him to let me sleep on it.
I awoke the next morning a new person, or so it seemed. The sun was shinning and I knew that I had a reason to live. I wasn't sure of what it was, I just new that it was close. I asked the nurses about the doctor who had visited me the previous night, but none of them seemed to be able to place him, even with my description of him, plus there was no signature on my chart stating that anyone had been in there, let alone a doctor.
It is now one year later, my health has improved considerably, and my attitude has improved a little as well. Six months ago, the idea of this paper was placed before me and I wanted to be a part of it (oh, little did I know). I was honored when they put me in charge of it, but I was also afraid. I was afraid of my own actions. It had become part of my new job to protect the paper; protect it from myself. I new that everything that I did, or have done, would be associated with the paper, and since it is not my paper, but your paper, (the homeless) I took that job seriously.
My fear also stemmed from self-doubt. I did not believe in my own abilities. It was lucky for me, certain staff members at Casa Esperanza saw beyond that. They saw (and I'm guessing) a hidden potential and helped me to uncover it; nurture it and allow it to grow. For this I will be forever grateful.
My fears are being conquered, at least as far as the paper is concerned. Self-doubt is being abolished and I am finding a new confidence in my own abilities. (Which are due to God)
Six months ago I knew nothing about editing or desktop publishing, and I still don't, but that won't stop me. Even when my first laptop came up missing, stolen, I refused to be stopped. It was only a minor setback. The only person who had the power to stop me, well, was me, and I think that I have stood in my way long enough.
I am still under a doctor's care and I am limited to what I can do physically, but I still have a mind and it is time that I dusted it out and began using it. I do not plan to be on SSDI for the rest of my life (I didn't plan on coming to Santa Barbara and you see how that one turned out. Oh well...). I feel as if I am creating my own job with this paper and hopefully some jobs for others too.
I moved out of the shelter and into an apartment on the 24th of December. If home is where the heart is then Santa Barbara and Casa Esperanza are a part of that. My new friends are here. My new family is here. So are the people I have come to respect and admire, not to mention the ones that I have grown to love, and for me that is where my success begins.
*NOTE* I equate this with my testimony because it was during this period that I began to notice, to feel God's hand on all that I did, okay, maybe not all, but everything that was laid before me on the path that I believe he chose for me was in a way blessed. I still have my addictions, but the urges are no longer there, and if they do arise I know that I will have the ability through God to conquer them.
Blessings to date:
A purpose in my life, a sense of direction, a new calling, perhaps a ministry.
My heath and attitude have improved substantially.
The newsletter. Since I first took the project on I have spent over $1400.00 of my own money. My first issue was released January 1st, 2010 with less than 200, 8 page copies printed (tabloid size). My second newsletter will be issued on the first of April and the estimated print run is 1000, 20 page copies (digest size). I have changed the size of the newsletter making it smaller (digest size verses tabloid size) and increasing content. I have found ways to save on material cost without changes in quality. I still pay for everything out of my disability check, but word is getting out and donations are coming forth. We have raised $40.00 so far.
I found an online Bible Study course that I actually started with lesson one.
Two months ago I purchased the Bible Experience on CD and the companion Bible, the past couple of days have found me actually using the companion Bible.
I have found my way back to CC, where I have an overwhelming sense of being welcome.
I am being considered as a homeless representative on two separate boards.
I am surrounding myself with caring nurturing friends who wish to give instead of take. Most of them are Christians.
So this is my testimony of sorts, it is the first, but it wont be the last. I doesn't matter if it's read or not it only matters that I share it just in case. I crave input, it will be the only way that I can become a better writer. I am also in need of stories of inspiration, humor and hope for my newsletter. I also write to prison pen pals FYI.
There are many success stories out there. In the short time that I have been in Santa Barbara I have met several people who I would call a success, at least as far as transitioning from homelessness, finding employment or going back to school. Their stories are far more interesting than this one, for this is my story. (I had to have something as a space filler.)
I do not consider myself a success, I don't think that many of us do, but I am a work in progress, just as this newspaper is a work in progress.
I am not going to bore you with details of an abusive childhood or cry about how dysfunctional my family was and still are. I am not going to say anything about my stint in prison, all of that belongs in the past and that is where it will stay.
For me, my life, as it was, ended when I arrived in Santa Barbara and a new one began. It's the new life that I wish to focus on. It's the new life that will be a success someday. Maybe not today, but someday; someday soon.
I came to Santa Barbara by accident. I was on my way back to San Diego, this was as far as I got. I heard about the shelter from another homeless person, a hitch-hiker that I had given a ride to Paso Robles had mentioned the shelter. He gave me a number as he got out of my car; a number that I never intended to call.
I left Oklahoma a few days before Christmas 2008 heading west. I knew I would be facing homelessness, after losing my job in November due to illness, and I did not want to be homeless in Oklahoma during the winter.
So I packed up my car and headed west in search of warmer weather. I had driven as far as El Paso when I changed my mind and direction. I ended up in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. I went to see a friend, but I missed out and I did not want to stick around, the police did not want me to stick around either, so I headed west again.
Three weeks from the day I left Tulsa, I arrived in Santa Barbara. I had no business driving in the condition that I was in, and for the first time in my life I was unable to work and that scared me. By the time that I arrived in California I was sick, actually I was beyond sick, I was dying (or so I was told). Dying and did not even know and when I found out- well, I really did not care. I gave everyone a hard time and was rude to quite a lot of people. (I am improving though, I am only rude to a small percentage now.)
I came to Casa Esperanza (a homeless shelter) around the 15th of January, 2009, by the end of my third week here I had been hospitalized twice. I had a nasty bout with congestive heart failure and ongoing chronic renal failure. Also my car had been impounded. (I was left with the clothes on my back. I wore the same pair of jeans for three months. I had to use duct tape to hold them together, they were so threadbare.) During my second hospital stay I decided to let go, I didn't care anymore. I was ready to let go; I wanted to let go, but a strange thing happened.
A doctor, whom I have not seen before nor since, came into my room. He asked if he could listen to my lungs, as he was standing behind me he asked how I was doing or feeling, so I told him. I told him everything, even about my wanting to to let go. I was surprised when he told me that that could be arranged. With a single shot, he said, I would drift away peacefully. I asked him if he was talking about what I thought he was talking about, the only thing I heard him say was "yes". For some reason, I found myself saying "that's right, I'm in California", I then told him to let me sleep on it.
I awoke the next morning a new person, or so it seemed. The sun was shinning and I knew that I had a reason to live. I wasn't sure of what it was, I just new that it was close. I asked the nurses about the doctor who had visited me the previous night, but none of them seemed to be able to place him, even with my description of him, plus there was no signature on my chart stating that anyone had been in there, let alone a doctor.
It is now one year later, my health has improved considerably, and my attitude has improved a little as well. Six months ago, the idea of this paper was placed before me and I wanted to be a part of it (oh, little did I know). I was honored when they put me in charge of it, but I was also afraid. I was afraid of my own actions. It had become part of my new job to protect the paper; protect it from myself. I new that everything that I did, or have done, would be associated with the paper, and since it is not my paper, but your paper, (the homeless) I took that job seriously.
My fear also stemmed from self-doubt. I did not believe in my own abilities. It was lucky for me, certain staff members at Casa Esperanza saw beyond that. They saw (and I'm guessing) a hidden potential and helped me to uncover it; nurture it and allow it to grow. For this I will be forever grateful.
My fears are being conquered, at least as far as the paper is concerned. Self-doubt is being abolished and I am finding a new confidence in my own abilities. (Which are due to God)
Six months ago I knew nothing about editing or desktop publishing, and I still don't, but that won't stop me. Even when my first laptop came up missing, stolen, I refused to be stopped. It was only a minor setback. The only person who had the power to stop me, well, was me, and I think that I have stood in my way long enough.
I am still under a doctor's care and I am limited to what I can do physically, but I still have a mind and it is time that I dusted it out and began using it. I do not plan to be on SSDI for the rest of my life (I didn't plan on coming to Santa Barbara and you see how that one turned out. Oh well...). I feel as if I am creating my own job with this paper and hopefully some jobs for others too.
I moved out of the shelter and into an apartment on the 24th of December. If home is where the heart is then Santa Barbara and Casa Esperanza are a part of that. My new friends are here. My new family is here. So are the people I have come to respect and admire, not to mention the ones that I have grown to love, and for me that is where my success begins.
*NOTE* I equate this with my testimony because it was during this period that I began to notice, to feel God's hand on all that I did, okay, maybe not all, but everything that was laid before me on the path that I believe he chose for me was in a way blessed. I still have my addictions, but the urges are no longer there, and if they do arise I know that I will have the ability through God to conquer them.
Blessings to date:
A purpose in my life, a sense of direction, a new calling, perhaps a ministry.
My heath and attitude have improved substantially.
The newsletter. Since I first took the project on I have spent over $1400.00 of my own money. My first issue was released January 1st, 2010 with less than 200, 8 page copies printed (tabloid size). My second newsletter will be issued on the first of April and the estimated print run is 1000, 20 page copies (digest size). I have changed the size of the newsletter making it smaller (digest size verses tabloid size) and increasing content. I have found ways to save on material cost without changes in quality. I still pay for everything out of my disability check, but word is getting out and donations are coming forth. We have raised $40.00 so far.
I found an online Bible Study course that I actually started with lesson one.
Two months ago I purchased the Bible Experience on CD and the companion Bible, the past couple of days have found me actually using the companion Bible.
I have found my way back to CC, where I have an overwhelming sense of being welcome.
I am being considered as a homeless representative on two separate boards.
I am surrounding myself with caring nurturing friends who wish to give instead of take. Most of them are Christians.
So this is my testimony of sorts, it is the first, but it wont be the last. I doesn't matter if it's read or not it only matters that I share it just in case. I crave input, it will be the only way that I can become a better writer. I am also in need of stories of inspiration, humor and hope for my newsletter. I also write to prison pen pals FYI.