Here's What Being Homeless Taught Me.

Life's simple pleasures and some lasting scars

I heard the door handle unceremoniously click behind me and it took only a moment for the reality of the situation to claw its way into my mind — I was now homeless.

What started off as an adventure of trying to spread my wings at 19 by moving to New Orleans turned into a nightmare of me having to sleep on the streets for a few nights until I could get access to some money I had tied up in mutual funds in an out of state account.

Like anything else in life, there are good and bad things that come with certain experiences, and this one left lasting scars that still haunt me over two decades later along with a few positives.

When you’re broke and have nothing to your name even the smallest pleasures are thoroughly beautiful.

One night I found a beach chair in someone's backyard to sleep on and realized I still had my hoodie to be able to ward off the hordes of mosquitos that make that swampy southern town their home and those facts made me profoundly joyous. I can remember feeling a rush of peace in knowing I wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground that night, and that I was cocooned in a hoodie.

Or finding an apartment pool bathroom to wash up in after taking a plunge. It was one of those simple pleasures that we often take for granted — access to water and shower facilities.

Here is another example — getting $55 for a $900 ring at a pawn shop and knowing I could buy rolling papers and loose-leaf tobacco, food, and water for a few days was immensely pleasurable. Balk at it all you want, but in 2001 $55 was more than enough for a few days' worth of necessities.

In a way, I have never replicated that sense of “everything is going to be okay” that I felt when I was temporarily without shelter at the smallest things. It is something I try to do even today, to bask in life's simple joys.

The best things in life are free.

I used to love just wandering around the byways of the city and basking in the scenery. The stately rows of live oaks draped with Spanish moss, the above-ground cemetery cities, and the old Victorian estates were feasts for the senses, and none of them cost a dime. I remember wandering through the Garden District daydreaming and coming up with stories in my head about its antebellum days and the families that lived in those stately mansions with their well-manicured gardens of Bird of Paradise, bananas, and Southern magnolias.

Or the conversation with the other bums around the riverfront, listening to their stories and just chatting with random people. I learned a lot just hanging out, wasting time, and listening to people's war stories about life. Everybody has a story to tell. That was something I learned, and it costs nothing to go out and chit-chat with random people on a city square.

Suffering is no problem

After an experience like that, I have an almost inhuman ability to put up with suffering and hardship that has served me well. Put me on a dingy sleeper bus in Vietnam for a 24-hour ride to the middle of nowhere, no problem. I have to stay for a month at a place that has no refrigeration, plumbing, or air conditioning and the daily temps reach the mid-90s Fahrenheit? No problem. I can handle it.

Being able to handle difficult situations that would make most modern people profoundly uncomfortable has been a blessing because I know I can do with less or survive in less-than-ideal situations. I feel more prepared for things.

Open to those less fortunate

One thing growing up poor and having a stint of homelessness did for me was to feel a sense of camaraderie and understanding for the downtrodden. I often feel more comfortable among the lower classes than among the middle classes or the jet set.

I certainly do not thumb my nose at the many homeless people who pepper our streets these days. I don’t want to rejoin their population anytime soon, but I cannot look down on them. I have been there even if it was only for a few days and nights.

Next time you pass one in the streets don’t assume the worst. Who knows what led them to their situation or whether it is going to be short-lived or not? If they spend the money given to them on dope or drink it’s their business, not yours.

Take nothing for granted

Last but not least I’ve learned to try not to take anything for granted. Even though the reasons for my short stint of homelessness were not insurmountable and probably could have been avoided, having experienced life with no place to rest my head for a while opened my eyes up in a big way to not take anything for granted.

Your health, your home, your job, and your family are not certain. Nothing is certain. The more I live my life through the lens of taking nothing for granted the less I feel like wasting time on frivolous pursuits or wallowing in self-pity or laziness.

The scars remain

The dark part of the story is the scars that were left on me by the experience, and I can’t say I’ve ever healed from them. I still see life through the lens of a scarcity mentality sometimes. That has been very hard to break.

I always eat the cheapest meal in a restaurant if I eat out at all.

I am deeply uncomfortable around ostentatious displays of wealth, and people in suits and ties.

When I travel I go to the cheapest foreign destinations possible and sleep in the bottom of the barrel places even if I can afford better. We’re talking about cigarette burns on mattresses with the ceiling falling out and ants crawling up the walls kind of places, but for $8 a night why not?

It’s only a place to sleep, I don’t need fancy five-star accommodation. If I’m traveling cross country in the US I sleep in the car at rest areas rather than rent a motel room. I refuse to buy things that are not strictly necessary for the most part.

I try to live a semi-rough life free of too many comforts because I feel like it makes me stronger. I know what it is like to have nothing. It can be like preparing for war all the time in my mind. Life for me is not to be surrounded by creature comforts, first-class seats, or posh meals and hotels, it is a perpetual survivalist boot camp. I’m being a bit hyperbolic but I hope you get the point. That survive-or-die mentality has been with me for decades and has never left. Good or bad? It is hard to say.

Has anyone else had a stint of being homeless?

How was it?

What did you learn?