This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Friday, 4 November 2011

homeless women

I have talked about the men who I have met on the streets and homeless, but what about the women? are there any women? Yes, but significantly less than men. Most women who live and stay on the streets or homeless have severe problems or have had a really bad time one way or the other.

The first homeless women I met were three women significantly older than me, two in their fourties and one in her sixties, one of these women was only around for a few days but gave me her spare walkman, toiletries, sweets and anything she could think of to spare, she kept watch at night as I slept and told me about the other homeless people and then moved on on her way after a few days. The other two were good honest kind people who had been through bad things, they were both rehoused within weeks of me meeting them.

Then there was SJ, a vagabond who kept doing naughty things in different towns and running off, if her account was truthful. She and I shared a porch one evening when she had just arrived in town and decided she didn't like it and was off again. She had been unsettled for years and had no intention of settling. She was entertaning to listen to, and I shared my supper with her.

Then there was Barb, a drug addict who looked too respectable to be on the streets and who lived out of a trolley, I don't know her story, but she was another who you wouldn't guess was homeless.

Then there was a mother and son who were so comfortable on the streets that you would never think of housing them, I think their homelessness was due to a marriage breakup, but I don't know.

Then there was Jenny, she was a gypsy, she and her gypsy father and her boyfriend lived and begged on the streets and would never live indoors.

Dani, a paranoid schitzophrenic, used to terrify anyone who distrubed her, she was violent, unpredictable and full of hatered for the human race, no-one could get near her.

Liz, a drug addict who also drank, had lost a baby and was drinking and using drugs while heavily pregnant with the next baby, her boyfriend was an immigrant who also used drugs, and they lived together in a camp of tents with a load of other immigrants, I was invited to join them at one point but politely declined.

Lucy, she worried me a lot because she was in a violent on and off relationship with a man, living in his house one day and escaping beatings the next, she would sleep completely in the open on a park bench in her feminine clothes and shoes, not seeming to realise that she was very vulnerable, especially as she was very pretty.

Jan was a traveller who lived in a tent with her dogs, she seemed very able and happy and seemed to go undisturbed with the dogs to guard her, her son was in prison though, and she was waiting for him to come out, and then what?

Carrie, another drug user, she and her violent partner had been on the streets for years with their dogs, they taught me some good tricks to looking after myself on the streets.

Angie, my friend, always smiling and cheerful and wanting to chat, a bit different in the same way as I am, a bit eccentric, sadly she had got bored with her marriage and left her husband and just drifted, I don't really understand, but it was nice to have such a cheerful friend.

Debbie, new to homelessness, was looked after by a kind disabled ex-soldier who had been on the streets for years, she used him and messed around behind his back and eventually left him for his friend, he was devastated, he was trying to stop drinking when she left him, she was a heavy drinker as well, and she stole, she stole from him and anyone else she could, she even stole my sleeping bags and food, but I couldn't see a point in confronting her. yet she was always nice to me to my face.

Margaret, another fierce homeless person, with a partner who was very gentle except in defence of her, and she was always getting into fights for him to defend her in, she and I didn't hit it off at first but became friends. I think she will be part of the street life until she dies, she is in her sixties.

Sabrina, my German friend with her teddy bear for company, she had mental health problems and was depressed but brave enough to sleep rough and cope with the men at the daycentre, she was nice, and I wish she had a little house somewhere with a nice garden rather than being on the cold dirty streets.

Liz, Daisy and Fern, all with drug and alcohol problems and a bad gossip habit. Not very kind to me apart from Daisy, and very rowdy when under the influence. There was another little group like this in another town, but I don't recall their names or much about them, I just escaped from them when they dragged me towards their world.

There are a number of others who I saw but didn't get to know, mainly with drug, alcohol or health issues.

There were a number of immigrant women, who were as pushy and thoughtless as the men, sadly.

So there is a variety of female homeless on the streets and on the road, all for different reasons, we all have our problems, just as the males do, no-one is homeless without trauma being in the background somewhere.

Possibly one reason I get to know more men on the streets is that the good men worry about homeless women and try to help them. That makes me feel guilty, but at least I have got to meet some good honest men that way. As I said, the women all have problems and it can be harder to build friendships with them sometimes.

All names changed to protect identity. (as usual)

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