She had not asked me, "What next?", or "Where to, now?" She simply assumed I would want to go to one of the other shelters in the area so, after lunch, she took me to each one of them. I had no objection to that at all, as God had not told me what was to happen, now; so, going to another homeless shelter wasn't ruled out as disobedience, at this point, as far as I knew. She began to take me to them all. However, as we pulled into the parking lot of every, available, shelter, in turn, and she waited, while I went in, to ask, if there was space for me, there, she began to get extremely emotional, and she started crying and carrying on. She had faith in God, too, but her version of it was that, surely, God had one spot for me in one of these other shelters, if He loved me. It is a disservice that modern-day Christians are taught that God makes all the bad vanish in a puff of prayer because He loves us too much to allow us to suffer. The heart of the Gospel message is that God so loved the world, that He sent HIS only begotten SON, Whom He was well pleased with, to DIE, a PAINFUL DEATH, IN OUR PLACE, to pay for OUR sins. He SENT His Son, TO SUFFER AND DIE, when HE didn't DESERVE any of that, Himself. I heard the Holy Spirit tell me VERY CLEARLY, as we drove up to every single shelter, that they would not have room for me, there, because THAT WASN'T HIS WILL for me.
It amazed me, how STRONGLY, I HEARD Him, through all of this, seemingly, 'bad' stuff (from, a HUMAN, point of view). It was, almost, FUNNY, to me, except, that, my friend was getting so agitated, at this point, that she screamed at me, saying, "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! There HAS to be ROOM, for YOU, in ONE, of these places! Did you REALLY even ASK them? I mean, you, tell me, EVERY SINGLE TIME, right when we pull up, to these places, that you ALREADY KNOW that they WON'T have room for you. HOW CAN YOU KNOW THAT?!? I think you're NOT EVEN ASKING IT. I'm, going in, MYSELF, and ask them!" Which, she did, as I stayed in the car, after they had already told me NO, at EVERY shelter; asking for God's Guidance, as the situation gained increasing clarity for me. ALL I KNEW at THIS point was that God had told me, today was the day I was to leave the shelter I was in, and I did that. Then, His Holy Spirit spoke inside me, every time, we arrived at all the other ones in town, and told me, EVERY SINGLE TIME, BEFORE, I even, GOT OUT of the CAR, that, there would be, NO ROOM FOR ME; until it became crystal clear that, 'There was no room in the inn', so to speak--much like Joseph and Mary went through at the birth of Jesus which we hear spoken of every Christmas season. I'm sure they thought, as normal human beings, that SURELY, God would PROVIDE A ROOM, for the woman whom, He had predestined, to give birth, to the incarnate Son of God!
When my friend came back to the car, after going in, herself, to ask if there was a place for me in their shelter, she looked incredulous, and began to get more upset than ever. She told me that, they had told her, the same thing, and that, she even asked them to call and check with the other shelters in town-- which we had been to, already, that afternoon-- saying that her friend was a female and was basically out on the street now, without someone having, or making, a place for me to stay, there. They made the calls, for her, but it was just as God's Spirit had been telling me. None, of them, would have an opening for me, because that wasn't where He wanted me, now. He had told me that VERY CLEARLY, BEFORE I had even gone in to ASK. Their telling me that was TRUE, was JUST MORE CONFIRMATION to me. I was now dealing simultaneously with a completely freaked out friend and my own understanding, which I accepted, that I was to totally trust in God, even while His solution for this situation (as far as my next step forward, that I was to take) was nowhere in sight; at least at the moment. It was nearly supper time and I did my best to calm my friend by firmly reassuring her that I was going to be just fine as I kept my faith in God, and simply obeyed, what He told me. She was a Christian, after all, so I thought that, she could trust God, too. I also had other friends from my life before, the homelessness happened, to me, but I did not feel that I was to contact any of them, either. Clearly, this part, of my journey, was requiring that, I fling myself, in full faith, on God, alone, and allow, His relationship, with me, to be what, safely, sustained me, in this, otherwise stressful, time in my life. My shelter friend was crying so hard by this point that, I was concerned she would wreck her car. I asked her to take me to a branch of the Omaha Public Library, that I knew I could stay in until evening and the cover of darkness. She did, and I prayed, with her, asking God to strengthen her faith in Him, got some of the food I had bought at the grocery store earlier that day, to take with me, left her the majority of that, and I sent her on her way back to the shelter so she wouldn't miss the seating for supper in the cafeteria, there. Then, I went inside, the library, alone. It was much cooler in there than it was outside. We were in the middle of a summer heat wave at the time. I sat at one of the computers which were available for the public, and just surfed the internet, biding my time until dark. when the library would also be closing. I recall, taking a citizenship test, online, as I sat there, enjoying the relief of the air conditioning. It had been a long day and I was beginning to feel tired as I sat in the quiet of the library environment. I am a rather practical person, so I'd requested my friend drop me off, at this particular library location, for a reason. It was almost in view of the VA Medical Center. All I knew about that in the moment, was that, as a veteran, I had authorized access, to that building and its amenities.
I stayed as late as I could at the library, then I walked over to the VAMC, with my backpack on my back. I still had no idea, at all, where I would go, to sleep, and I was getting really tired, at this point. I'd already been through alot, that summer, and was in the midst of even more difficult life circumstances, coming at me, that I had, no choice, but to, deal with, the best, that I could. Looking back, afterward, I realized God was intending for me to get the help that I needed from the VA but the VA social workers who were working on my case, to find me a decent place to live, using the HUD-VASH** housing voucher, they had obtained, for me, still had not shown me anything, that was available, that I had any enthusiasm to live in. I had seen some beautiful properties, with great amenities, which took the housing vouchers, but, of course, those were so coveted, that they were full, with lengthy, long-term, waiting lists. I had been holding out, for something better, than what I was being told by the social workers to just, settle for. But then, I hit that 6-week-mark, of staying in the shelter, which was when the 'Welcome mat' there began to be noticeably, and increasingly, absent, toward every woman, that was there, that long, except for those with their children. It was scary, and sad, to see them treat women, staying there, badly, at that point, and ultimately, running them off, from there, one way or another, as soon as they hit the unspoken-but-enforced 6-week timeline of staying there. Even if, I hadn't been, holding out, for a better place, to live, the apartment one of the social workers had shown me that was in such poor condition, which I ended up feeling like I had no choice, but to take (that I moved into, near the end of that summer) was not actually, available, to rent, yet, as the man who had been living in it, for several years, was still living in it, at this point; and when he did finally move out at the landlord's insistence, it needed extensive renovations, due to, its poor condition; before, being rented out, to a new tenant.
I would not know, until I moved into it, that the landlord had done very little to it, and rented it to me "as is" at that point, due to my desperate need for housing as a, homeless, veteran; clearly, taking advantage of me, in my situation. It took me several months, and alot of labor on my part, to make that into a decent place, to live. [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2021/09/its-said-when-life-gives-you-lemons.html, which was also mentioned, at the beginning, of this post, goes into all of that.] Being, literally, homeless, and out on the streets, and being so weary, from everything I was going through, it didn't occur to me to even explain my situation, to anyone at the VAMC, at the time, as I went there to wash up, brush my teeth, and use the bathroom before taking the bus downtown. I didn't even think that, a medical facility-- this, veteran's hospital-- COULD, help, with my situation. I would soon find out-- in a rather hard way-- that I was wrong about that. I was taking my situation a day at a time, now. I knew I could call the other shelters, each day, to see, if they had any openings. However, I am, a loner, by nature, who had just gone through a month and a half of having absolutely NO privacy, to speak of, in the homeless shelter, and my soul was screaming for some much-needed, alone, time, now that I was, finally, out of, that, environment, as of this very day, that I am describing. I didn't know, where I could get any privacy; I just knew that I needed that. Badly. More than anything else, that I could think of, at the moment. Also, although, God had been Guiding me, CLEARLY, every step of the way, HE had NOT told me to do that, then, either. I was more concerned that I hear, and obey, Him, than I was about getting the help that I obviously needed, in this situation. My walk with God is my life; and, at times, it is my 'adventure', too. That has always mattered more, to me, than even my own safety and comfort do.
While I was at the VAMC that night I went to the cafeteria to eat some of the food that I had gotten, earlier that day, with my SNAP card. There was no one in there, that late at night. I warmed up the food in the microwave, and was watching a TV that was still on, in the corner, as I ate. One man, came in to eat, at one point-- a shift worker, there, who was on his meal break. He chatted, with me, some, as he ate, and I remember, feeling, anxious, about him, seeing me there-- almost as if I had a sign posted on my forehead that said, in all capital letters, I AM HOMELESS!
I didn't tell him, though. I just wanted to leave and find some place where I could SLEEP, without babies crying at all hours, and women talking, and fighting, loudly, like there was, in the shelter. I thought about going down to the Old Market, to sit in a booth at Cubby's with a cup of coffee to try to stay awake, because nights on the street, would be the most dangerous, especially, for a slender woman like me. People have the luxury of thinking that bad things WON'T HAPPEN TO THEM, until or unless they do, finally happen to them, shattering that, false, sense of security.
I was long past having that feeling about my personal safety, after being raped by a stranger, in my early twenties, and going through domestic abuse, which, came close, to killing me, at times. I needed, somewhere, safe, to sleep, but I had very little money. What I did have, was mostly going to pay the storage unit where my belongings were. I desperately needed PRIVACY, and PEACE and QUIET, to SLEEP.
Then, I realized, my storage unit had 24/7 security code access! I had chosen the floor there that was Climate Controlled, because I was concerned that, long-term, storage of my electronics, and make-up, and such, would cause them to melt and be ruined from the, relentless, summer heat. I left the VAMC, and caught the last, late, bus, downtown. I knew, that there were cameras in the building, because I'd seen images, from them, on a screen, in the office, there. But, I didn't see one, in that aisle, where my indoor storage unit was located. My unit, was also, very close to the air conditioner, that cooled that area of the building. Anyone could be in the building, at any time, that had the outside security code, to gain access; so I kept an eye out, for anyone else, that might be in there, as I entered the building, and opened the padlock that I had put on my storage unit door. It was metal and a bit noisy, as I raised it up, surveying the scene of stacked boxes of belongings, that I had placed in there 6 weeks earlier. I had put my couch, in there, last, meaning it was just inside the door. So, I found a couple of sheets, and a pillow, made up the couch to sleep on, took off my shoes, and closed the door, shutting me in there in the dark. I took off my glasses, and, felt around, in the dark, for a nearby box, to place them on, like a makeshift nightstand. It was a bit, claustrophobic, but, even so, it was blissfully quiet, and private, and I sighed contentedly, before falling fast asleep. It was the first, full, night, of solid sleep, I had been able to get, since the ordeal of losing my apartment around Memorial Day. I felt so happy, there, alone!
I had called the VA social workers before I left the shelter, to let them know that I was leaving the shelter, and that I would keep them posted, but because they are always busy with a full client load, it went to their voicemail. I made a point to be gone from the storage unit, before the woman who managed the site arrived, the next morning. She had shown compassion for me in the situation that I was in as I rented the storage unit from her, offering to keep my houseplants in the window of her office, there, and take care of them, when I went into the homeless shelter.
I didn't want to risk problems with her, if she knew, I had just slept in my storage unit, which could possibly lead to her no longer caring for my houseplants. I could feel the heat of the summer day, setting in, early, as the heat wave, that we were in, wore on. I took a bus to the mall, which was air-conditioned, and large enough to keep me occupied, walking around for the day, until I could return to the sweet silence of the storage unit again, that night. I had my backpack with me, that had my basic necessities in it, in case something happened, which prevented me from staying in the storage unit. I didn't know, if the woman, who managed it, checked the security camera footage, or not, and if so, whether there, would be, a note, or something, to me, on my storage unit door, saying that, I couldn't stay in it again.
I was living a moment-to-moment existence, at this point. Anything, was possible at any time. Clearly, I, looked, like a, homeless person, now, because, when I was walking through the most upscale of all the department stores, in the mall, a man that worked there, in their shoe department, watched me, closely, with a horrified look, of pure disdain, on his face. He conveyed, to me, in no uncertain terms, that this, was not an environment, that, I belonged in, or was welcome in. I had never in my life been, reacted to, in this way, because, of, my, outward, appearance; by anyone. It taught me alot, about what people, that are less fortunate, than those, living a life of power and privilege, are seen as and treated like, in our society. He would never have believed me, if I had informed him that I actually used to be an employee in this very store, and that I HAD QUIT THEM and walked out BECAUSE of their snobby, superior-acting smugness, in that store in general, due to it being the, elite, anchor store, in this large mall. They had been incredulous, then, that I had actually REJECTED THEM, at the time, calling me to request my return, BUT I REFUSED. I had STELLAR Customer Service references, for which I was hired; but THEY weren't GOOD ENOUGH for ME, as an EMPLOYER, because of their, haughty, culture. I have NEVER BEEN ABLE TO STOMACH such people, that THINK they are BETTER, than other people, on this planet. We ALL, pee, poop, and die, the same.
Tiring, of walking around, Westroads Mall, at that point, I left, and walked over to Whole Foods Market where I used my SNAP card to buy some, delicious, gelato. I sat there in the air-conditioning, savoring every spoonful of that cool treat on this hot day. I also bought some blueberries, to take with me, for later. Summer bliss! I felt SO RELAXED and HAPPY! Just having space to sit and be alone with my own thoughts, after, just coming out, of the environment, at the homeless shelter, was so luxurious, to me. I was at peace. MUCH-NEEDED, PRIVACY AND PEACE. It was WONDERFUL! I didn't lack for any, basic, thing, needed, to sustain life. I was also reasonably safe. I knew this city very well, and was sleeping in an air-conditioned controlled-access space, with no one else around. I was able to sleep undisturbed by others. MY DEEPEST NEEDS were BEING MET NOW. It was such a nice respite! When it got dark, I took the bus to the VA Medical Center, which, I was entitled to access, as a veteran, to wash up in a ladies' room there, again. Then, I went back
to the storage unit, for a second night, of sleeping there, in the peace and quiet. I
knew, I could call the shelters to see if there was an opening, but THIS JUST FELT, SO GOOD to me! I just wanted a few days to myself before I would probably have to go to one of the other shelters, since, the VA social workers, still had not found me a place to live, that seemed clean and decent-- and was actually available. I'd left them messages, letting them know that I was fine, and that I would try to get them on the phone another time since it always seemed to go to their voicemail. I woke up the next morning feeling so rested, and happy, after those two nights, of sleep in my storage unit. I hadn't told the social workers where I was, for obvious reasons, not the least of which, to ME, was that I deeply VALUED and NEEDED my privacy-- 'for a minute'-- in the midst of this summer of complete upheaval, in my life. But, they had heard my voicemails, in which, I sounded very happy, and safe.
The next day-- my third, since leaving the shelter, at God's very clear and specific direction-- I decided, to take the bus to the VAMC, during the daytime hours, eat, my blueberries, there, while sitting in the cafeteria, and use a phone there, to try, to reach my social workers, without it going to voicemail. I was, hoping that, they had, some word, on a, possible, place to live, for me, by now-- especially, since, I was no longer at the shelter. At the very least, I was hoping that one of them had some time, that day, to take me around to look for an apartment, that I could live in. I was glad to hear my main social worker's voice, answering her phone, rather than, it going to her voicemail, again-- which happened more times than not. She asked me, where I was, and I told her, that I was at the VA Medical Center, about to go up to the cafeteria, to eat. She said that she wouldn't be able to take me to look for a place to live, that day, which was, definitely, disappointing. But, I knew, that these social workers were helping alot of other homeless veterans, than, just me. I wasn't trying to be some, demanding, diva. I just needed a place to live; as soon as possible. After we spoke on the phone, I went up to the cafeteria and was sitting by a window, blissfully by myself, although, being, dayshift, at the hospital, there were, employees, and visitors, all over the place. I was just, looking out the window, enjoying the sunny day, from the comfort of the air-conditioning, making my plans for how I was going to spend the day, when this case worker, that I had spoken to on the phone a short time before, came rushing up to me, where I was just sitting, calmly, at the table, and she began to question me about where I had been, and so forth. I resented it, in the sense that, all, these social workers, were barely ever available, to me, as the weeks were, ticking by, while I was staying in the homeless shelter; and I had told them about the 6-week-thing, so, they knew.
Beginning to show her my irritation with her, I asserted that, she could clearly see that I WAS FINE-- healthy, safe, and well-rested. I was, also, an adult, that, made my own decisions, for MY life. Not to mention that, I LEFT the shelter because, for 3 days God had told me that I was to do that; and WHEN I was to do that-- AND I DID THAT. I did what HE told me to do WHEN He told me to DO IT. I was annoyed. I had REALLY NEEDED, and was, REALLY ENJOYING, the last couple of days, in the midst of, a LONG, HOT, HOMELESS, summer, that, I was living through, the best, I could, and now this almost-always-busy social worker was criticizing me for how it was going, directly due to the fact that, I STILL didn't have an apartment to MOVE to. They had only taken me to look for a place, a few times, in my 6-weeks, at the shelter, and either, showed me places that were full, with too long of a waiting list, for someone, in a, time crunch, at the shelter, or, nasty-looking, run down, places, that I had refused to live in, because, I had seen that much better places did take these housing vouchers. It was, what it was. I was, happy, and well-rested, at the moment, though. I didn't want to go into another shelter just yet. I needed peace.
She listened, to what I had to say, then expressed her concern, that, I was out in the heat, during this ongoing heat wave, which, wasn't good for me. I responded, that I knew the city well and how to stay in air conditioning, although I refused to tell her where I was staying at night. She told me that as my assigned, VA, social worker she was responsible for me as her client and that she would get in trouble with her supervisor, if she wasn't, taking care of me. I was a middle-aged, grown, woman, who had spent the majority of my life taking care of myself, so I bristled, at this statement that I needed a 'babysitter'-- even in this situation. I was doing fine, as far as meeting all of my basic needs. I figured I would get into one of the other shelters in a day or so, but not yet, because I was enjoying my summer for the first time, during, this current, couple of days, that, I had peace, and privacy, again. I pointed out to her that, she could CLEARLY SEE, that I was, CLEAN, FED, and WELL-RESTED; so, I was, OBVIOUSLY, ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. Then she started to scare me. We had a mutually respectful relationship, up until, THIS point, when she suddenly said to me, "Don't get mad at me." I narrowed my eyes and responded, "WHY, would I get MAD, at you? What, have you done?" She said, "After you called me, I arranged for you to be examined, here, at the med center, just to be sure that you are in good health. My supervisor would be mad at me, if I weren't, making sure, that you are alright. So, I just need you to come with me, down to the ER, where, they can do, a quick exam, on you, to make sure you are doing okay, and then, you can go, and I won't be in trouble, for not taking care of you." I HATE MEDICAL EXAMS, so I wasn't happy AT ALL about this. I just wanted to go on with my day-- ALONE, IN PEACE. Reluctantly, and feeling angry, with her, I went, with her, down to the ER department. When, they called my name, I went back toward the exam rooms, and the nurse there, put the blood pressure cuff on me, and looking at me, asked me, "So, why are you being seen, today?" Although the social worker was standing right there, next to me, during this, she didn't say anything, and she, was the one, of the two, of us, that knew, why, I was, there. I really had no idea except what she had told me-- which was, a quick exam would be done on me, to make sure I was staying healthy, and then I would be released after that, to go on with my day, as planned. Answering the nurse, with a mixture of, uncertainty, and annoyance, in my voice, I replied that, 'I DIDN'T KNOW, WHY I WAS THERE, but that this social worker, standing right here, had said that I had to get a quick exam before I could leave; although I WAS FINE.' The nurse looked at the social worker, then, for further clarification, but my caseworker just said, to me, then, "At least you'll be in the air-conditioning now", and she turned, and left.
After the nurse took my vital signs, she sent me to one of the ER exam rooms, to wait to be seen by the doctor that the VA social worker said, had to look me over, to be sure I was staying healthy, before I could go on my way. I had things, I had wanted to do, that day, and I felt frustrated and annoyed by this development. As one patient after another was seen, while I was still just sitting there, with no one coming in to get this exam over with, I tried to contact my social worker, who had taken me to the ER, to get further clarification from her, but each time I had tried, it just went to her voicemail. Having worked in nursing in a hospital setting, I was well aware of their having to triage patients, coming into the ER, and, a check-up, for my overall healthiness, would be at the very bottom of that list, of patients, to be seen. Even so, several hours, passed, with me, sitting, in that exam room, and then, pacing, in that exam room, and finally, feeling, really, agitated, in that exam room. I had tried calling another VA social worker, that had been working with me on finding an apartment, but my call, to her, explaining to her, what was going on, and telling her that, I was extremely, frustrated, and confused, at this point, went to her voicemail, as well. That wasn't unusual in itself, with these busy advocates, but when I then began to ask the ER staff about the situation, and why the doctor had not been in to do the quick check-up on me, that the social worker said I had to have, before leaving, none, of them, seemed to have any information, at all, to offer me. I considered just leaving, but I was trying to be cooperative, since I was depending on the assistance of the social worker who brought me down to the ER, to get housing. I began to get hungry, and asked staff if they had a snack, I could have, which they brought me. Still, no one, was telling me, anything, at all, about what was going on. By this time, I was beyond, frustrated, to, angry, and anxious. I spoke with a man who worked in that department, asking him, to call, my social workers, to find out what was going on. Nothing came of that, either. I was in the ER for about 6 hours or so, before the betrayal became clear, in a, terrifying, way.
A uniformed deputy, in full police attire, including, a holster on his hip, with a gun in it, eventually entered my exam room, carrying some papers. (I just, teared up, typing that, because, I can, still, feel, the anger, and the terror I was put through, that day.) I was sure that he was in the wrong room. Perhaps he was there to see another patient, that had come in after a DUI, or some such, criminal, behavior. I couldn't believe it when he walked up, to me, and handed me alot of legal-looking forms, which I wasn't familiar with, and couldn't understand. My name, was listed on them, but I had no idea WHY!?! I read and re-read them, several times, trying to comprehend what they were saying. None of this made any sense at all, to me, and it was very frightening. I felt so alone. I had, gone into a kind of shock, when this, armed officer, had come up to me, and had served these legal papers on me. I wasn't a criminal. I hadn't done anything wrong! It was hurtful to see words, on these legal documents-- that were signed by my VA social worker!-- saying that I was 'a danger to myself and others'. NO ONE that KNEW ME would EVER say that about me. It wasn't true, at all! I called over, that man, that worked in the ER, to come back into my exam room. I was crying now as I asked him if he knew what these papers meant. He just looked at me with an expression of absolute pity but told me nothing. I tried, yet again, to reach-- any-- of the VA caseworkers on the phone, but, every, attempt I made, to contact them for clarification, went to their voicemails. I had no idea, what, was going on. I had no idea, what to do. Then, a nurse finally came into my exam room; the first medical personnel that had been in there all day. They instructed me to remove all my clothes and put on a pair of hospital pajamas. They took away my backpack. Then, a law enforcement officer, that worked at the medical center, came into my exam room (also wearing a gun) and told me, he was there to escort me, up to the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, of this veterans' facility. I suddenly realized, that I was basically taken hostage, in a sense, against my will, and that, there was nothing, at all, that I could do about it. I had been lied to, by my social worker. I had been conned. It was what it was.
I have always been, a realist, bottom line, because I have had to deal with ALOT OF SHIT, that OTHER PEOPLE have PUT ME THROUGH, in my life. As this, armed, officer, 'escorted' me, up a back elevator, straight into the psych ward, which had locked doors, and no escape from it, I felt shell-shocked. I had to, suddenly, shift gears, so much, mentally, that it took all I had to adjust, in real time, to this new reality that was now my life; whether I liked it or not. I was, equally, traumatized and curious, about this new experience that I had been thrust into, feeling a little like, Alice in Wonderland, falling through the looking glass, and finding herself, in the midst of the Mad Hatter's tea party. A male nurse, apparently, well-informed, that I was, not only homeless, but had just been, basically, on the streets, did an extremely thorough physical exam, to be sure I wasn't bringing bedbugs into the unit. He ran an EKG on me, commenting, afterward, as he scanned the print out, that it showed my atrial fibrillation, that I have intermittently. NO DOUBT! In this situation, I was relieved, that it didn't show an outright HEART ATTACK! After the thorough physical exam, he said that, it was almost time to eat supper. I was led to a dining room, within the unit, where there were other veterans, also, in these hospital pajamas who were obviously patients themselves. We were all seated at small tables around the room where we got trays from the kitchen with our meal on them. I was given a form to fill out for each meal from then on out during my stay, but this one was not of my choosing (nor, was ANYTHING, happening to me at the moment) so, I didn't eat all of it, even though, I have, a big appetite, for a slender woman. As I took my tray up to the staff, afterward, I said to them, that, "I wouldn't give people, who are in the psych ward, melon, like this." They asked me, why, and I responded, with, a slight, smile, looking them straight in the eye, "Because, it might make them, MELON-choly." I didn't want to BE there. I wasn't AT ALL happy, about what was happening, to me-- against, my will-- right now. I was, JUST GOING TO BE 'ME', though, and let it, sort itself out. I was MAD. I was SCARED. But, I have a STRONG SENSE OF SELF, and, a DEEP FAITH IN GOD, and although, it pains me, at times, especially if real heartbreak happens for me, due to whatever it is, I have a firm grasp of reality, accepting it, as best I can, as it is.
After supper, some of us, watched some TV, in the lounge area, and when, it was almost bedtime, they gave us all a snack of our choice from a cart, and then had us line up, at a Med Room window, for our meds. I have always been into holistic health, and part of that philosophy about my healthcare means that, I don't take any medications, even, over the counter ones, for anything; unless, I really need to. Because my annual physical check-ups were at this veteran's facility they had regular aspirin, and Bendryl for my allergies, on file, as my meds. Those were all. Just those. As with the social workers, the nursing staff, was also into 'overkill', if it made them look like, they were doing their job, fully, in taking care of us. I am very independent, and don't need, or want, alot of overseeing of or interfering in my life choices that I know work best for me. So, I stood my ground, politely but firmly, when the Med Room nurse told me, I would at least be taking a Benadryl, because that was on file as my med, but I told her that I would not be doing that because I wasn't having any sniffles, runny nose or congestion from my allergies at that time, and I only medicate myself if I really need to do so. Because the VA had taken my freedom of movement out of my hands that very day in fact, I was concerned that they would continue to impose their will over my own, for my life, in everything, to do with this situation, that I was in now; but they didn't do that.
Each night as they lined us up I would take in a deep, clear, breath in front of the nurse, at the Med Room window, to show them that I didn't need the Benadryl at that time; if I didn't. Eventually, they got it changed, to PRN, for me, so, my only taking it when I needed it matched the doctor's orders about it, which kept them out of trouble for all the times that I refused to take it (which was far more often than not). The first few nights, they tried, to convince me to take it, because it is also a sleep aid. They said-- especially, that, first night, that I was there-- clearly, against my will, because I had apparently been legally committed, for a full psych eval, by my social worker-- that, it would help me to sleep. I replied that, I never had any trouble, at all, sleeping, unless it was really noisy, like it had been in the homeless shelter. Then they led me to what was going to be my room in the unit, telling me that the small window in the door was so that they could check on me, throughout the night, to be sure that I was in fact sleeping. I smiled at the nurse who took me to my room and unlocked the door, which was, always, kept locked; looking wistfully out the window for a few moments at the city below that I knew so well, trying not to cry or give in to panic, because my freedom, and autonomy, had been, taken, from me. Then, lying down on the bed and, immediately, falling asleep-- on my own; without medication-- because no matter what is going on in my life, or where I am at any given moment, I ALWAYS KNOW that GOD IS WITH ME, and that NOTHING SUPRISES HIM, and that, MY trust is in HIM, at ALL times. [My situation, rather reminded me of how the Apostle Peter reacted to being held against his will, but choosing to keep his faith in God strong and sure in the midst of that. The account of this is in Acts 12 of the Bible. Peter, was sleeping, soundly, under circumstances similar to mine. Totally, trusting, that he was in God's care.]
I had that large room to myself, during my stay there (incarceration, if you asked me), because they tried to provide each veteran their own, space, and privacy, as much as possible, and the large majority, of the veterans, in this psych unit, were males. There was only one other female veteran in the unit, while I was there. I'd been drawn to the med center ever since I had obeyed God and left the homeless shelter; staying in the storage unit because I was in such dire need of peace, and privacy, that being out on the street, in order to have that, was preferable, to me, to going into another shelter, at that point. It was clear, to me, now, that God had orchestrated this situation, for my benefit, but had not told me this was coming. I did not have an apartment, to call home, yet, but I was no longer in the homeless shelter, and now, I had more of what I had, deeply, needed. Needed, to the point, that, I had been willing, to stay, out on the streets, to have, those things. Privacy. Peace. Nothing is all good or all bad, in my life on this fallen planet, but I am able to be grateful, for the good things, even in the most trying of circumstances; and that, is a very important thing, to be able to do. That doesn't mean that, I wasn't, very, angry, at my social worker, who had ambushed me, in this, extreme, way. It just means that I, totally, believe that, everything about my life, is known to God, and that, He, is the One, who, ultimately, works, all, things together, for my good, because I love Him, and am called, according to, His, purpose, for me, in this life.
On the one hand, because I have a sense of humor that serves me fairly well alot of the time, I could say that, there were worse things, than being around a bunch of guys, all day, who were wearing pajamas. We had so much fun together, that it felt like, a Pajama Party, at times, there, in the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, of, the Omaha VA Medical Center. We shared some good times, in the midst of rather depressing circumstances. A tall, handsome, Native American, vet (the names, of these people, are withheld, for privacy reasons), was an amazing artist! He drew, a, special, picture, for me, once, and slid it under the door of my room, for me to find, when I went to bed that night. He had been admitted to try to kick a serious drug addiction. Another guy in there had been admitted on a Suicide Watch, after driving his pickup truck into the woods, and calling his wife from there, on his cell phone, to ask her whether she wanted to have his funeral with an open, or closed, casket, so he would know, which way, to shoot himself, to end it all. I was his first friend, in the hospital. The first one, to reach out, and simply shake his hand, and introduce myself, making a human connection back to reality, that he literally and figuratively grabbed hold of, and which started him on the long path back to living his life again. When he was admitted he was in such poor shape mentally the staff wouldn't even allow him to have the door to his room closed and they removed all but the barest necessities in there. Because I was, generally, so open and friendly, the nurse, that saw me, walking toward him, in the hall, a couple of days after, he had been admitted, with a smile on my face, and my hand, extended, toward him, took me aside, and said to me that, he wasn't nearly ready, for any social contact. The Holy Spirit, had just told me otherwise, however, and I trusted THAT, so when he was walking past me, I did go ahead and greet him. As his eyes met mine, and he introduced himself to me, in return, he looked relieved, and was more relaxed.
After that, he started opening up with all the other vets there, steadily improving, and soon becoming himself again. We became fast friends. The kindness softened the sad, and stressful, situation, that he was in, and he FELT, and RESPONDED, to that. One vet had his birthday while he was in there, and I couldn't imagine being in there on such an occasion, away, from his family, and friends, who were, in the outside world. I had the vet who was an artist design a birthday card, just for this other vet, then I asked all the patients, and staff, to sign it, and we gave it to him at the morning meeting. We had sessions, that we had to attend, as a group, and as individuals, with the doctors and staff. I was so full of energy, and exuberance, that I looked at them like THEY were CRAZY, when they had to ask me, as part of the Care Protocol for psychiatric patients each and every day, at least once a day, if I had any thoughts of harming myself. I am, SO FULL OF LIFE, and SO IN LOVE WITH LIFE! I take as careful care of myself as I can, because I want to live a long and healthy, and happy, life, as much, as possible. There have, only been, 3, very brief, fleeting moments, in my life, when, that thought, even crossed my mind. It happened after I had transferred custody of my baby boy Jay, after being his sole caregiver, for the first 13 months or so of his life, to give him, a better life, than I could have given him, and my, narcissistic, mother was making sure I felt blamed for all the things, that were happening, as a result, of that grief, in my life, on top of all that pain that I was feeling in my soul. The second time the thought crossed my mind was when I was in my last, very abusive, marriage to a narcissistic man, I call, 'the son of Satan', when, he had worn me out, with the, constant, cycles of abuse, and I didn't see a way out at the time. The third time was from something that I will likely write about in a future blog post, about the damage to someone's life that bullying does. I have been dealing with this issue, for the last 10 months. Apparently, it doesn't just happen to children, in junior high school, because folks in their, 60s, 70s, and 80s, are capable of acting like they're in junior high school.
There was an Army veteran, there, that looked like Jesus, who was psychotic, and prone to sudden fits of, very aggressive, rage, when he would, physically, lash out at staff members who were trying to subdue him. It was very unsettling to me, to hear him, when he had those episodes, before, they tranquilized him, again. One, night I was in bed, almost asleep, when I heard someone turning the door handle to my room, but not coming in. Of course, I assumed that, it was the night nurse, although they didn't ever actually come in, to the room, at night, to check on me. They would just peer at me, through the window, in the door, to make sure I was alright. So, it did seem strange. Not long after, I heard the night nurse screaming at someone in horror. It was, the lookalike 'Jesus'. He had, left his room, after his last tranquilizer had worn off, and was trying, to get into other patients' rooms, to act out his aggression toward anyone available. Apparently, after, trying, MY door, he had found another guy's door cracked, right across the hall, from me, and had promptly gone in there and beat the guy up, rather badly, who had been sleeping peacefully before being attacked. I would, very likely, have been, beaten, by him, and/or raped, if my door hadn't been securely locked. I shuddered, to think about it. I had once expressed frustration to the nurse that I always had to go find some staff member, just to have them unlock my room, so I could, go into it. They kept mine locked at all times, no matter what. The only other female patient in the unit had been discharged, soon after I arrived, so I was the only female patient on the floor until another one arrived just as I was being discharged. Only two other men in this psych intensive care unit seemed to, actually, be 'crazy'. One, was a meek- looking, middle-aged man that had been arrested and brought there by the police after his neighbors called the cops on him, because he had actually been shooting at their house! When the police had arrived on scene he told them he thought the Lord was telling him to KILL THEM, because they were ASIAN, and therefore were OF THE DEVIL (which, if anyone, ever, reads, that statement, and thinks, in, ANY, way that it is TRUE, SOUND, thinking, then, YOU ARE CRAZY TOO). Maybe Karma was at work, here, because, he happened to be the one that 'Jesus' beat up, after getting into his room, that night. I had a chance, to talk, with this man, at length, one day, which is how I learned what he was in there for, and after having studied scripture, extensively, I tried to take him through the Bible verses that, rationally, explained, to him, why the Lord would not ever tell him to kill these other people.
I wasn't sure, at the time, that, anything, I said, to him, would pierce through his muddled thought processes, but, apparently, it did help to some extent. He spoke in a way that sounded, much more grounded, and rational, at his next, individual, psychiatrist appointment, according to accounts. Since he was making progress, I was concerned that he would be set back, when a new male patient was admitted to the unit and was sitting with him at breakfast the next morning when someone that he hadn't seen on TV for a long time suddenly appeared on the screen. I had a mouth full of oatmeal that I spewed out in shock when this other guy exclaimed "SPEAK OF THE DEVIL!!!" I didn't want him to get that guy going, again, about killing people, that he perceived as being "of the devil". The other, crazy-seeming, guy, had been a former Navy Seal. He was, brought in, late one night, waking me up, with his screaming, at the staff, at the top of his lungs. I was very reactive, to that sound, of a very angry man screaming at someone, because of, my husband, from my last marriage, acting like that, so often, while, he was abusing me. So, I didn't like being anywhere around this guy, at all. If he was in the room, I was in, he would start being a real braggart; really full of himself, and loud about it. So, I would go into another room, with a puzzle book, and work on solving puzzles, for something to do, in between appointments, assessments, and group sessions. He would find me, eventually, and come to wherever I was. Not saying a word to me (because he knew I was avoiding him), he would simply start doing pushups, and other strenuous exercises, right in my line of sight, making heavy breathing noise the whole time, like he was having sex. I always just left the room, and went into some other one. I really felt harassed by him, doing this, to the point that I made a complaint to the staff about it, and then they saw for themselves, how constant it was. The rest of the people, were in there for drug addictions that had wrecked their lives and needed to be dealt with, and a couple of the guys were in there for severe depression. One of which was the one that had been suicidal when he was first admitted, and the other one was the guy we made the birthday card for, who grew despondent, when his long-time girlfriend moved out and left him. As far as I knew, based on feedback from the doctors and staff, I had alot of anxiety, and I suffer (still) from a certain amount of OCD which DOES affect my everyday living. I was never given any psychiatric drugs, then, or ever, for any condition, however. I am sure that they would have prescribed those, if they had thought it necessary.
I was also there because the VA social worker knew I didn't want to go back into a homeless shelter, and they had no better alternative to house me in, than this, for the time being. It was, much, better, as far as, what it offered, to me, that I most needed, in an environment, being, who I am, as a person, than the shelter, full of people, had been, where, there was, no peace, and no privacy. Ever. 24/7. When, my caseworker showed up one day at the hospital, to see me, after waiting a few days, thinking that, I would calm down, from her, violating, my trust, by, lying, to me, after I saw that it was a much more pleasant alternative for me to be housed in, for now, she did not, get, the reception, from me, that, she had hoped for. She wanted to take me into a room, alone, with her, to speak, in private, which I flatly refused to do. Instead, I told her, with a firmly set jaw, due to my extreme anger, at her, that I would only talk to her, sitting out in the open, in front of the nursing staff, and the office staff, for the unit. She tried to make light of it with small talk, but, I was DONE, with her, after how, traumatized, I was, by her, actually, having me COMMITTED against my will with a LEGAL form which STATED (and was, also, SIGNED BY HER) that, I was, 'a danger, to myself, and others', which, SHE KNEW, WASN'T TRUE. I never forgave her for how she handled that and requested a new caseworker, from then on, REFUSING, to EVER deal with HER, again. My TRUST in her, had been DESTROYED. TRUST, is VERY IMPORTANT, TO ME. That may be how the social workers operated, in order to 'help' their clients, but it, ALSO, DID REAL DAMAGE, to me, adding EVEN MORE, NEW, DEEP, TRAUMA, to my life, than what I had ALREADY been through, and was GOING THROUGH, when she did this, to me.
The thing that she used, as 'evidence', to get me committed, was, also, one of my most precious experiences, and memories, in my whole life. I described that, holy encounter, in the blog post listed below. It was such a sweet, sacred, moment that showed me, in a profound way, how much Grace God extends to us though we are all sinners. This social worker had taken me to her office building, one day, when I was first assigned to her as a client, to do an, extremely lengthy, in-depth, intake, on me. The whole way through that she stressed to me how very important it was that I be, completely, honest, with her, so that she would be best prepared to help me find, suitable, Section 8, housing, to end, my homelessness. I'm a very honest person anyway; much more, than most people, ever have the courage, to be; and
believe me, IT TAKES REAL COURAGE, to be, AUTHENTIC, and TRUTHFUL, in THIS world. She, must have asked me, at least, a couple of hundred questions, picking, away, at, every, single, aspect, of my life, and, who I was, as a person-- including, the most private things, about me. Even for someone who is as open, and honest, as I am, it was, BY FAR, the most difficult INTERROGATION that I have EVER been PUT THROUGH. Even, my, security clearance, questionnaire, when I was in the Air Force, was not as, intrusive, or as, invasive, as, THIS, thing, that, she had put me through, was. When she had gotten to the question, 'Have I ever killed someone?' I first answered no; but then, thinking about it more, I changed my answer to yes I did. Once. And then, I told her about my abortion. I have never, forgiven myself, for doing that. I considered it, murder, of a helpless, unborn, child. I was sobbing, as, I told her, about it. It was, clearly, traumatic, for me, to share, that, with, her.
I also told her about the Vision of Jesus that I had been blessed with seeing, later that day, which was the exact thing that kept me from forever turning away, from God, because of feeling like I had committed an unforgivable sin and couldn't face Him, after that. That very Vision-- that, great, merciful, gift, of God, to me-- that awful day, was what she used to have me committed, saying in the paperwork, at the courthouse, she went to, that I needed to be committed because I stated that 'I had seen Jesus and said that He tapped me on the back'. The VA social workers had a large caseload, and they sought to make the sluggish system work for their clients, who were homeless, as expeditiously as possible. But, twisting something, into a traumatizing solution, was not something that I appreciated, being done, to me. It was a situation where, they justified, the means, they used, to get the end result. It ended up, harming me, as much as it helped me; just in, different ways. That Vision happened when I was in my late twenties, by the way. I was 61 years old, when she used that, to have me committed to a mental ward against my will. That's a real stretch. Even though, she was trying, to help me, by what she did to me, I don't keep relationships, in my life, with anyone, that I can't trust anymore.
The full account of that Vision of Jesus I had is included in the following blog post:
When the social worker had suddenly showed up at the hospital that day, where I was currently, COMMITTED, because of her, I had only ONE thing, to say, to her. I got a piece of paper and a pen from the staff who were right there witnessing the entire encounter, so that, she couldn't say something else about me, which would be misleading, that could, possibly, keep me in there, even longer, than, the days that I had to stay there, for a, lengthy, evaluation, and observation, period, and I wrote down the address, of the apartment that the other social worker had taken me to see, most recently, that I had turned down, because of its poor condition. I handed that address to her and said "Since I obviously can't go out looking for an apartment, anymore, while, I'm stuck in here, take the housing voucher, that you have, for me, and just slap it on, this, apartment rental so that I will have a place to live, after I get out of here. That is all, I have to say, to you." And, I walked off.
The landlord of that apartment had a cycling accident, injuring himself, enough to need to wear a neck brace, for awhile. So, I would have an even longer wait, than it already was, to get into that apartment, which, I didn't even want, to start with. I took it, when I felt, I had no other choice, but to settle for it, and make the best of a bad situation. >sigh< In the meantime, I could not continue, to stay, where I was, in the psychiatric intensive care unit, because the bed was needed, for other patients, who actually, really required, that level of care. So, they sent me over to a live-in program, on, the other side, of the same, hospital, floor, that, I had been on, that taught coping skills for dealing better with life. When they offered that to me, I took it, because, I did not want to go into a shelter, which was now my only other option, and I figured, it couldn't hurt, to learn some things, that, I may not, already know, about dealing with the stressful situations, in life, better. Once I got over there, I had alot more personal freedom, too. I was in a locked ward, when I had first arrived, and could not leave that floor, at all. The doctors had even come there, to talk with us. Everything, we did, was limited to that area of the hospital, alone. I often stood at the windows, looking out, at the beautiful summer, passing me by, outside, while, I was stuck inside-- against my will-- in that, confined area.
Now, in the residential program, I could go outside, anytime, I wanted to, as long as I stayed on the hospital grounds. They did let me take the bus downtown, long enough to pay my storage unit fee, and then return, to the live-in program, at the medical center. Each day, I had classes to take on various helpful skills, like doing biofeedback, meditation, relaxation therapy, social skills, that helped us cope with stressful situations, and more. We ate our meals in our own dining room, there. It was a more even number, of male, and female, veterans, in this program. We also were able to wear our regular clothes-- jeans and such-- which was nice. I was so glad, to, finally, have, my tweezers, back, to be able to groom my brows, without, being, supervised, by a nurse, while doing that, after they were, taken away, from me, in the psych ward, as standard procedure, due to being considered potentially harmful to myself or others. On the weekends, we were taken on outings, that the VA paid for, to places like the zoo, or an upscale pool hall. We played each other in ping pong and wii bowling, laughing and bonding with our newfound friends. Since I do like to have, more private moments, than many people seem to, I sometimes slipped away, going downstairs to the main floor of the medical center to sit in the chapel, there, and read a devotional, or pray, or simply, work on my homework, in the quiet space, it provided me. Sometimes, the chaplain would come through, on the way, to, or from, his office, and stop, to chat with me, for just a few moments.
One day, the new social worker, that was assigned to me (after, I made it clear, to the VA, that, I would NOT accept, working with, the one who had LIED to me, and had me, COMMITTED, anymore) suddenly showed up at the hospital, to find me in the dining room, at lunchtime. She told me that the landlord of the apartment was suddenly saying that he needed me to come right away and sign the lease, or else he would give the apartment to somebody else to move into. That was strange, to me, because, he had my cell phone number, and had not contacted me, to choose the swatch for my new carpeting, that he had promised me, when I had viewed it, with him, while I was staying in the homeless shelter, weeks earlier. He met me at the apartment. When I arrived, I realized that, there was no, new, carpeting. This man, was not going to be, a man of his word, from the very beginning. He was, a jerk, the whole four years, that I had to deal with him, as my landlord. Even so, I needed, a place to live, and after looking, for most of the summer, unsuccessfully, I realized that, it was going to, have to be, this one. Like it or not. Then I went to the hospital to let the program manager know that I was leaving, to move into an apartment, that day. She wanted me to stay, a bit longer, to finish the program, I was enrolled in. But, I needed to get my things out of storage before the next bill for that came due, because I was out of money to pay for that, anymore. 'Moving Veterans Forward' helped me get my things out of storage and into my apartment and the housing voucher, from the VA, completely covered the rent, until I had an income, again. Then, it still helped, some, as, a prorated amount, of each month's rent. What it was like for me living in that apartment for 4 years, was described in a previous post which I provided the link to at the beginning of this post. God met my needs the whole way through that difficult, and sometimes daunting, summer. It wasn't easy. None of it was. But, in the mix, of some, good, and bad, times, He worked everything out. All I really did was just trust Him, and hold on for the ride.
* SNAP EBT card - The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) is the largest federal program aimed at combating hunger and food insecurity among low-income Americans. Sometimes referred to as food stamps, SNAP benefits are transferred to needy families through EBT debit cards, which can be used to purchase food items in retail stores. EBT: Electronic Benefit Transfer (a system for issuing welfare payments electronically by means of a payment card that recipients use to make purchases).
** HUD-VASH - HUD-VASH is a collaborative program, between HUD and VA, that combines HUD housing vouchers with VA supportive services to help Veterans who are homeless find and sustain permanent housing.
