Visions Journal

I did it once, but could I do it again?

Mary-Ann

Reprinted from the Out of Sight, Out of Mind: The unseen reality of hidden homelessness issue of Visions Journal, 2024, 20 (2), pp. 21-22

I’ll never forget the first time I heard the term “hidden homeless” being used to describe my situation.

I was staying in my friend’s basement bed-and-breakfast suite temporarily with my five children. Everything I owned was in a storage unit. I was trying to find us a place to live, filling out applications for subsidized housing and making phone calls. One receptionist said to me, “You are what we call the ‘hidden homeless.’ That gives your application more urgency than others who currently have a place to live.”

I broke down crying. Me? Homeless? I went into a dark place emotionally, feeling like I had failed my children and myself. Many challenges had led up to this point in my life and it only got worse.

I tried multiple times to leave a toxic relationship with an alcoholic partner. Desperation, lack of financial stability, mental health struggles and depression all played a role in my inability to break out of the cycle I was in.

A friend had an available rental. She offered it to me, despite her having a rule not to rent to friends. Exhausted, desperate and not seeing a way to do everything on my own, I got back together with my ex and we moved in together. Shortly afterwards, I found out I was pregnant again, this time with twins.

I was a mother of five, pregnant with twins, financially unstable and in a toxic, abusive relationship. I was stuck. My children desperately needed a stable parent, but without money, we couldn’t live. When I could no longer work due to my advancing high-risk pregnancy, I became fully dependent on my partner and things got worse. My older daughters decided to go live with their father. They could not be around toxic, addicted behaviour anymore. My depression kicked into high gear.

I was powerless over decisions my ex made to move us to a different home shortly after the twins were born, which led to more insecure housing arrangements, including yet another motel room (which we’d resorted to before). There was never enough money to cover rent, bills and food. The shame I felt using the food bank regularly was immense. The feelings of failure were overwhelming. I tried going back to work again, as we desperately needed money for housing. So I left my four children in their father’s care while at work.

Everything came to its lowest point on Christmas Eve. I came back to the motel room after working a double shift to find that the twins’ diapers had not been changed all day. Their father was passed out drunk, and my toddler boys were urine-soaked and sitting in a pile of cereal. That was it for me. I cleaned up the kids the best I could while crying. I took the kids and left for the women’s shelter late Christmas Eve. No tree. No presents. Barely enough gas to even get to the shelter. No savings. I couldn’t work because I had these young children who needed me. This was rock bottom.

Another friend offered a room in her home temporarily so we didn’t have to stay in the shelter. While there, I was in a permanently anxious state, hyperaware of the noise and mess we made. Eventually, I moved the five of us into to a motel room. I continued to fill out applications for subsidized housing. Time was ticking, as monthly motel-room rentals ended in April. Would we need to live in a tent in the woods? Nobody would rent to me, as I didn’t have a stable income.

My phone rang on April 1. A unit was coming available in a family subsidized housing development for me and my children! Twenty-five days later, I was handed the keys to our new home. I knew this was my final chance. No matter how hard it was, I had to break the cycle and not allow my ex into our new home.

My older daughters came back to live with me once we got settled. It’s taken me a long time to set up our home with everything it needs to function smoothly. Even after nine years, I still feel relieved that I can choose to cook a meal at any time of the day or night, or have a bath whenever I want. I love that my closest friends just knock and walk in. That comfort is something I will never take for granted. With the subsidized rental rate, I managed bills successfully for the first time in my adult life, and this helped me to fix my poor credit rating. These are all huge wins in my world.

However, I am the least successful person in my entire family. I feel I should be much further along in life. I still go through "dark periods." When I do, I withdraw from interacting with people and social media. This helps me recentre and focus on my own journey, rather than comparing myself to others. And the dark times aren’t as long as they used to be.

Those years without secure housing and the label “hidden homeless” have forever changed me. When you are “hidden,” nobody really sees what a traumatic experience it is, or the long-term psychological damage it can cause. We are forever grateful for our friends who provided short-term housing options so we did not have to live out of my van or sleep in a tent.  

It still feels like yesterday we were in those motel rooms. My fear is that it could change at any moment and we could be homeless again. Whenever our annual income review comes up or I receive a notice of any kind from the housing society, my anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms are triggered. With the huge increase in cost of living, I cannot put money into savings. I know if we lost our housing we would be instantly back to where we were 10 years ago. Could I survive it?

Then again, I’ve learned a lot. I tell others that the best way forward is to just do the next thing. Fill out that next application. Make the next phone call. Wake up the next day and keep trying. Don't wait until it gets worse. Plant seeds now. You never know which ones will grow and create the new path in your life.