My Life In The Wild

On Being Homeless As A Female With A Degree

Photo Courtesy of Horb am Neckar

Every day I spent homeless was a day I spent scavenging, searching, collecting and surviving. I was always on the lookout for shelter, safety, food, and work. It was not much different than a typical day in the life of a wild animal, except most wild animals travel in packs.

While I was homeless, I did not find safety in numbers; I chose to remain part of my single pack. Over time, this proved to be detrimental because I lost the communication one gets with their pack which is achieved by touch, actions, and vocalizations. Once you lose the human connection, it is hard to get back. When you lose touch, it is even harder.

Like a wild animal, people are hesitant to approach a homeless person. They sometimes put food at your feet then slowly back away, unsure if you might lunge. Like a fox, I was inquisitive and playful but too wild to belong.

Being homeless somehow meant to others that I forfeited my Constitutional rights and free will. People dictated what I should do and how I should do it like I was their foster dog. “Sit here, stand there, wait here, don’t go there.” My treat was that the security guard in the hotel parking lot told me to move my car as I slept instead of calling the police. Sometimes I was so hungry, I would’ve preferred the bacon treat.

Like a wild fox, I was always searching for a safe spot not inhabited by man, as man was my biggest predator. My livelihood was constantly threatened by shrinking space. I was alert and aware of people I perceived as a threat. I adapted; I was resourceful. Hidden in plain sight.

While homeless, I was constantly looking for something because I had nothing. Today, I feel more fox than human. That will never change.

Photo Courtesy of Brigitte Peters

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