Becoming Homeless

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     On December 26th, 2018, I officially became homeless. I got all my belongings packed up in a storage unit. This won't be my last interaction with Storage Units. But it is my last interaction with THIS storage unit. Remember, by this point, I have lost my car, and now my home, and job was next. Needless to say, I didn't ever pay my storage fees, I after a few months, I lost everything. 

    I found myself wandering the streets, This part of my life is still really fuzzy. I don't remember much.

   I remember telling my mom that I was using crystal meth. She offered to give me a place to stay on her couch again, which is where I stayed when I first moved to Orlando a few years earlier. What I had to do was quit doing the drugs though and get a job. I wasn't ready to get sober yet. I was still enjoying getting high. So I only stayed at my moms with many of my younger siblings for two days. I chose to be homeless instead of sobriety. 

    I'm not sure what happened with my mom, her husband, or the kids after I left that day. I have not had contact with them the whole time I was in active addiction. I've not reached out. I'm scared to.

    Most of the time I was homeless in Orlando, was me bouncing from parTy to parTy... which many times, fun for more than just a few hours like a hook up. They can last days. You show up to somebody's house, get fresh in the shower since you probably haven't taken a shower and want to get freshened up before having sex with a stranger... often, with more than just one other person, but with a group of guys, you didn't even know was there, but you say "fuck it", and get higher and hopefully hornier. In my circumstances, the hooking up wasn't what I was there for. It was to have a place to relax and chill and get off my feet. Because something I discovered being homeless was the fact that you are always on your feet and wandering around with no place to go. 

    Now, speaking for myself, I had already lost some weight just not eating because meth curbs your appetite HARDCORE... you get so drawn into parTying or just getting high, that you just don't eat. Now there I am, not eating cuz im high, not EVER eating, because I don't have any money for food nor somewhere to store it even, and walking all over Orlando. I would be going from South Orlando to Downtown Orlando every other day. Hoping from one parTy to another.

    When I had money, I either had drug, or stayed high by other people getting me high. One thing that seemed to be true was people really liked to share their drugs. Shit, every time I had drugs, I always wanted to get high with someone else, be it usually was for the company. The sex part of the parTies had turned into more of a chore byproduct of getting high. 

    I found myself having sex with people in order to get high, showered, and something to eat sometimes. It wasn't until I started shooting up meth, that I started to enjoy the sex again. Sad I had to get to such an extreme to feel something again. 

    Life on the streets is never something I hope to ever experience again, nor is it something I would ever change about my story. Being homeless changed my perspective on life, for the better. It left me damaged. It left me alone. For so long. 

    I never really wanted to share with anyone that I was homeless. I did my best to hide that from people. I was so high all the time, that I actually believed that narrative myself. I was too embarrassed. 

    Eventually getting high became less the main goal and became the byproduct or finding places to be. 

    When I had money, which I'm still perplexed about where that money came from, I found myself staying at Club Orlando. You see, Club Orlando was a gentlemen only clothing optional gay bathhouse. For like 8 hours at a time, I would rent a room, and sometimes be able to renew it... one time I spent 24 hours there. Which was not allowed. But was was great about the bathhouse was that many of the other people there do drugs too. SHOCKER. I don't know how someone really ever would be able to enjoy themselves at a bathhouse sober. But it happens I hear. So there I am able to rest AND get high. WIN! 

    That is where most of my money went to. I would spend as much time as I could possibly at Club Orlando. Usually 2 days a week. There was a time that I went there for 8 hour stint, but I was so terribly tired from parTying and walking, that I spent all 8 hours asleep. Someone had to come and knock on my door to wake up.

    Sometimes, when I was able to make it to work and make some money, or when I had a doctors appointment for the case study I was still in, I would really live the HIGH life and splurge on a hotel room. But that's another story.


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