A broken heart is a curious thing...

These past two weeks I have been a lot more intentional about asking the people on my routes about their stories: why they sleeping on the street, what happened, and what it would take for them to get back on their feet. What I have found is the most curious thing... they all have broken hearts. Bad things happen in everyone's lives, but with these people their stories are insane... instead of one, two, or three bad things happening, around 8 happen, usually including the loss of their social network: either their significant other, or their family. I feel like in the states we are a lot more individualistic, so if something bad happens, we figure it out, and are taught to pull ourselves up. Here, the individual has no significance--only the group. So when the group falls apart, they literally lose all motivation to live. They usually start to drink to cover up the pain, cant maintain their house or their job, and within a short period of time, are on the street. I have heard numerous people tell me that this is their situation now, and they have no intention of changing. Its like life on the street becomes their distraction for their past life, and they usually find a group to be apart of, and because that is what matters, to be apart of the group, they would rather live on the street and feel like they are apart of something than live a meaningless life alone. I have even talked with people who are working and have money, but they dont desire to live in an apartment. 

are Today I went to a comedor with one of the guys on my route...a comedor is where the homeless go and eat for free. Since I went with him, it was like I was like everyone else, which turned out to be difficult for me. It hit me when the person handed me the little token, much like the token I used to give people when I worked in the food pantry during LA term. But this time I had the token, this time I handed it in for food. My entire body started to resist this! I could feel the tension swelling up inside of me. A huge part of me wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, Im not homeless! Im studying, I promise! But then i realized it didnt matter. People were in the room eating for a million different reasons, and I wasnt better than any of them. But it was definitely hard. I am going to another one tomorrow, to see the difference in people in the different zones, so that should be really educational for me. 

I have learned a lot just living in the city as well. I love it... I love being able to walk everywhere, being able to walk across the street and buy a loaf of bread...and seeing people everywhere I go. It is different though...there isnt a quite moment ever. Even last night, I got home from my route and went to bed around 2 and someone was blasting their TV. This morning I woke up (like every morning) to a baby screaming its head off. If its not that, then its the insanely loud garbage trucks, or the smell of the fish store a couple doors down. But it honestly doesnt make me mad! I love that everyone elses lives affect mine. There are always people outside...sitting on benches, talking, taking a walk, or visiting a friend.  But the thing I love about here that is very different from LA is that there is still a ton of open space! there are parks everywhere, with greenery that makes me feel alive. 

I have had a couple moments where I felt like I could almost be ready/ok with coming home, but it is always countered with a deep, deep sadness. I had to tell all the people on my route that next week is my last week, and everyone asked me when are you coming back?! Not are you coming back, but when? And when I told them that its really hard for me to think about leaving, they were like, well just stay here! It sucks, and it hurts, but I have never felt so affirmed in my life. The people want me here, they like me here, and are sad to see me go. I know next week will be really hard, but I am also confident that one day I will see them again.