Starting Over (2) -- Gimme Shelter

Life in the shelter was scary at first -- too many new things and people all at once. They go through your stuff on arrival all at once -- looking for drugs -- and they confiscate your prescription medications -- if you need them you have to go ask for them. The house rules are posted prominently and violators are told to leave. They are really simple and make sense -- curfews, respect for others and their property, no drug or alcohol abuse, phone rules, etc . First and foremost was to never reveal the location of the shelter which to me was a no-brainer and was astounded that such a crucial safety issue that could be a problem. Then again, we women can be really damned fools when it comes to men. Sigh.

Everyone is assigned chores to help keep the house clean but they give you a couple days to settle in and settle your nerves. The caseworkers and staff are very nice and very supportive.

When you first arrive you receive a packet filled with information on domestic violence and the rules. It's almost a tradition that you don't sleep the first night you're there so I spent the night reading them and thinking "that's me" as I read. Sigh.

The first business day is busy -- not good when you're still shell-shocked. After an interview with the director, a staff member takes you down to Human Services (aka welfare) to apply for welfare and Legal Aid to apply for divorce assistance. I was appalled and in tears at the former -- I'd never been in that office in my life. The snarky intake worker acted like I was picking her pocket and I was so upset I lost it with her and told her she could look in her damn computer and see that I'd never received any 'benefits' in my life. I left with a hundred dollars worth of food stamps meant to last a month but no medical or anything else. Single women aren't given much help. At Legal Aid, they told me that I could have a dissolution for two hundred dollars. I had twenty-five dollars and no job so I wasn't too impressed but filed the information for reference.

When I got back to the shelter, I got on the pay phone and called my therapist and let her know where I was. She told me that she was proud of me and that my case manager would be over ASAP to visit me. I also made a couple calls to friends to let them know I was okay and that they shouldn't talk to my husband if they could avoid it and give no clue to my whereabouts if they did.

We had "group" every day and it was mandatory and a counselor was always available if one needed to talk. And we talked to each other and made friends. Some women stayed only a short time if their family and friends rallied to help or they went back to their abuser; others stayed up to a month. Going back to one's abuser was a cause for sadness for both staff and residents.

The caseworker that my therapist assigned me was in valuable. She took me all sorts of places for help that I needed to go and helped me through the red tape and bureaucracy of abject poverty. One of the biggest things I learned about being destitute and homeless is that it is an exercise in frustration. The system is not designed to get you out; it is designed to keep you there.

This has become far too long so I'll be back with the rest of this part of the story soon as well as my Christmas ten years ago.

Happy Blogging!!!!!!!!

Kay