Sunday is the LONGEST day of the week…


Because I was in the emergency shelter part of the shelter, I had to find someplace to be/something to do, until 8:00 pm. I left the shelter @ 7:00 a.m., and you can only spend so much time drinking coffee at McDonald’s, so I did a lot of walking. A LOT of walking – with my increasingly bad back. And finding places to sit down and wait it out without crazy people bothering me. Yep. On a positive note, a bed in the singles area of the shelter opened up, so I’ll be doing an intake this afternoon. Yay! It’s one more set of stairs to climb, but it’s more permanent than the emergency bed. I also need to wash my clothes soon.

I hope to be able to go back to Oregon soon. I don’t think I can handle being in another program. It’s just too depressing. It was recommended that I sign up for disability of some sort, because I can’t handle life. That’s pretty depressing, too. Maybe they cover depression?

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Another Day…


The weekend is the longest, most mundane part of being in a shelter. It’s just filling the hours.

Last night, I contemplated jumping out of the window. Not SERIOUSLY, but just thinking that going through living at a shelter AGAIN was just RIDICULOUS. It might be quick and end the stupidity of the whole thing, but suicide is not really a good way to handle any problem.

I sent out a heads up to my facebook friends (the ones I trusted) to let them know that there were problems. I got a heads up from my bff in Oregon, and she said I could stay for a while with her, and that was great – however, I just found out that due to a bank error, I’m now overdrawn. So the little bit of emergency funds I thought I had, are gone. At this point, you just gotta laugh.

I slept really well last night, but woke up from a dream as I was yelling at my professor. Swore at him too – a little bit. That’s not really like me.

Anyway, that’s all I have so far.

Until next time…

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And So It Begins


Last night was my first night at the shelter. A bed had not opened up, but my roommates needed to have someone in the house that could pay rent. That’s not me at the moment. I was put into an emergency room until a bed opens up. I had to pare down my belongings into a manageable load, because on emergency services, you’re supposed to be out of the shelter during the day.

I was checked in at about 7:30, given a good meal and was able to take a shower before going to bed. I drifted off quite easily and slept until 6 am, fully rested.
I am truly thankful to the shelter I am staying at. It’s not being sheltered that is the problem. It’s the fact that I have to do it again. It’s me, not the system. Bah!

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You Would Have Been So Proud


Hello, and welcome to my world. My pseudonym is name is Ann Peek and this is my crossroads.

Recently, on facebook, I posted that I ‘wish I had one or two marketable skills, instead of being full of awesome.” It’s partly true. I’m not that full of awesome, but I have many interests and talents; they just don’t get me anywhere.

I’ve been looking for work for a month and have found, literally, NOTHING. I’ve been on interviews, and it seems like I was the perfect hire – until the potential boss met me. My feelings are that I’m just too ugly to work…or something.

So, I’m unemployed, and I don’t think it’s because things are ‘that bad’ out there. I seriously think there’s something fundamentally wrong with me, and there’s a reason for this. It’s my ‘pattern”. I seem to have the opposite of the Midas Touch. Everything I touch turns to crap.

Here’s the thing. I’ve been described as ‘smart’, ‘talented’ and ‘not lazy’, by people who I think have a pretty good grasp of what they perceive as the real me (Hang on to your hats, friends, because I don’t think that even I know who the ‘real me” is. I’ve had issues all my life, but “we” can blog about that later.) So, for the 5th time in ten years I am, presumably, entering another homeless shelter in a few days. As soon as a bed opens up, in fact.

And the most disheartening thing is, I don’t think I’ll get any understanding or skills that I haven’t already received from my previous stays at these shelters. But who knows.

“You would have been so proud of the life I had planned.” Seriously. “All I ever wanted was a normal life.” Both phrases have been written by me in the last month, as I saw my almost perfect grades in school drop (due to sickness and a death in the family) and losing my job…and searching for another. As my bank account drained to it’s current just above $10.00, and separated by hundreds of miles from family as they post about promotions and raises and vacations and pets and time spent with loved ones. Is there a reason I’m not able to achieve “normal”? Because, seriously, that’s all I ever wanted.

We shall see.

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