My story of adulthood.

A spiritual awakening, homelessness, LGBTQ discovery, to a somewhat mundane, normal life.

I was 14, I began to feel separated from my family; mentally and emotionally. I no longer recognized them or felt that I relate in any way. Whilst aware that I was physically related by blood and looked the same as before, I felt as though my consciousness had taken on new dimensions of existence. I slowly gained awareness and connection of the universal as a whole, I felt as one with it, just like I'd heard in films, books, and proverbs. 

My mother thought I was becoming mentally ill. My family didn't handle this well and chose to live in denial and ignore it, hoping it would go away I suppose as though it was simply attention seeking, or a teenage phase. My family was not used to anything disrupting the mundane routine and minimal communication. Experiences, emotions, thoughts, personal growth or problems were not discussed between the members of my household as I grew up. 

My body, mind and soul was pulling me out of that miserable shell of human existence and into a world full of possibilities. I would take long journeys far from home into the inner city and just drift around observing people, looking for signs from the universe, which were appearing everywhere. I'd meet strange and mysterious people sharing my experience at varying stages of their journey with spirit. Sometimes they'd share wisdom, others they mess with my mind and play games knowing that I was naive, innocent and new to this experience. 

I was searching for people who could relate to what I was experiencing, who could understand, so we could help each other figure it all out. Instead my experience lead me to realize that others were not always like myself. I was innocent. Looking for true connections, friendships, people I could trust. But that was not the lesson the universe had for me. Instead I became distrustful, and increasingly disinterested in other spiritual people over the years, knowing that they all had their own personalities, individual agendas and were harboring their own ego-related issues. Many of those who the universe matched me with were either condescending towards me being new to the awareness of spirit, and spoke down to me without getting to know who I really was and what my strengths were. They projected their own learning as unsolicited advice whether it was relevant to me or not, without first getting to know my intelligence or awareness. Others were resentful of me because they were angry about their own relationship with the universe, feeling isolated in their experience or having been abused similarly by others they sought mentorship from. Those intentionally tried to hurt me using my naivety against me instead of helping to nurture me through that vulnerable phase. There was one person who tried to use me to console his own loneliness without considering what is best for me, only selfishly wanting my companionship without responding to my needs or interests. 

However, along the way there were a few humans here and there with sound advice, wisdom to share, and who wanted nothing in return yet enjoyed my company and appreciated getting to know me, listening to my wisdom and giving me fair feedback about my strengths as well as nurturing me a little. These types did not stick, because they had no agenda, and were focused on their own journey. Unfortunately a lot of my journey since I awakened as a spirit has been this way. I connect with others who are connected with the universe but in being so are so liberated and unattached that we do not form long term relationships since nothing ties us together. So I have been a lone-wolf so to speak, and am still working on why I manifest my journey this way. I have discovered some things such as my numerology and astrological influences which provide some explanations onto this, however, it is more complex than one or two rules to live by.

I spent many years sleeping rough, spending all night walking around, napping on a city bus to stay warm and get some rest off the streets, sleeping in the shared common laundry room of an apartment complex, on the reception chair of that apartment complex, temporarily in hostels which I was asked to leave since I was no longer in possession of my passport or official documents and could therefore not claim government benefits to pay for the hostel. I was put into a hostel where I was experiencing constant racism and abuse, I ran away from there and was again on the streets of Soho, in London, UK, prey to drug dealers and addict at night. Soho is where I found a lot of help, family and friends, for a period at least and to the low standard of social network which was available to me at the time. Despite the extreme dysfunction of the people around me, some of these drug dealers and addicts amongst the many allowed me a place to sleep here and there, bought me food and helped me stay alive. Some more than others. 

For 8 months between the age of 18 and 19, I slept in a staircase, above the 2nd floor at the top of a spiral case, right below the closet where the boiler was. Nobody went there, except if the boiler required maintenance. At night, I would wait until somebody entered and slip in through the door behind them. The building was a government funded, supported housing facility for those who'd been made homeless due to drug addiction, domestic abuse and other losses. One of the kinder drug addicts I met in Soho had brought me to his place to sleep for the night. I ended up staying with his friend who lived in the same block when he came over to play cards and discovered my situation. He became like an uncle to me. However, eventually due to some negative experiences I could no longer tolerate living with him and I left. Having nowhere to go and having discovered the staircase above his apartment, I began sleeping there and this was one of the best sleeping places I'd had. At the top of that spiral staircase, I had privacy, I could rest late at night, text friends, and believe it or not, love interests, and pretend to be living somewhat of a normal life, before I slept across the stairs and woke up to defecate in a paper cup I'd brought back with me every night, since I had no access to a bathroom first thing in the morning. I must have been so dissociated from my circumstances and extremely good at compartmentalizing. 

Looking back I have no idea how I slept on stairs. What I liked about it, other than feeling safe because nobody would disturb me there and I could have a full night's sleep; is that because it was a SPIRAL staircase, one of the steps was wide as it bent around to twist the direction. This step was the closest thing I had to a flat place to lay down. This lasted 8 months until I was discovered there one morning by the management and told that I cannot sleep there anymore. They offered me an apartment in their hostel for one to two nights saying that this can give me time to organize somewhere else to stay. They had no idea what situation I was in. From what I knew of everything in London city being bureaucratic and what I'd been through until then, I felt they could not help me beyond this with attaining permanent accommodation and so there was no point in communicating about it further with them. 

Being young, and being female is certainly the motivation for a lot of the help I received from the addicts and dealers who were mostly male, with some females who had maternal instincts stepping in from time to time. Whilst I appreciate the pros of my circumstance as a young female, I am aware if I was in a different situation; older, or male, I'd have different options for survival tactics and I'd have tapped into them. Intelligence is definitely a factor in me figuring out how to survive. Yet, I've met all kinds of survivors and cannot attest to any quality of mine equipping me more than any other human being. The universe can be totally meaningful and totally random. Some survive and others don't and I have no explanation for this beyond what it is. Some use charm, others  use objectivity and detachment, narcissism, wit, good looks, and there are those who are simply lucky. I cannot say I survived in the best way, I survived in the way I could see how and I've known of others in my situation surviving better in many ways. All the same I am grateful for the support I've received along the way. 

Most of all, I remember one lady as a complete angel. She was someone I'd never forget because unlike anyone else, she had undying compassion in the fact of detachment. I was so far gone that I could only cope by not being emotional towards the rejection I received from institutions. I had not experienced extreme emotional and psychological abuse from my own biological family, which I'd felt trapped in and felt was inescapable for many years, but then was challenged by years of instability and lack of proper social development. I was refused help by institutions and government facilities because I had lost my passport and without this I could not attain government benefits or housing, which of course meant I could not pay for a new passport and was stuck in a cycle, until I met this angel. She worked at the homeless shelter in Trafalgar Square, in 2007 when I would visit daily for showers, a meal, a bed and support in attaining accommodations. 

I was 18 years old and the only person in my age group there. She took great pity on me and was a very sweet, genuine human being with a beautiful heart and genuine motivation to help. Perhaps she was new to the job and had innocence in her, with a true charitable spirit. I was lucky to find her before she got sick of the job, bitter, and lost that motivation. She kept saying how silly it was that the system put me in a situation where I cannot claim "job seekers allowance" (unemployment benefits), which meant I could not claim housing benefits or find even temporary housing all because I did not have a passport and of course, without any financial support, I couldn't even save up to buy a passport. For weeks I visited her, and as I mentioned I refused to have an emotional reaction to this because I did not feel that it would help my situation to be broken by my own emotions. Despite my lack of emotional display that others perceived as me not caring, me not being a nice, sweet girl, me being cold or apathetic, me perhaps being a bad person, me deserving my situation or simply not being likable; she did not take a disliking to me or change her motivations. She was solid and she was committed. I am unsure how much she could see through my detachment or dissociation but it didn't matter. She did not lose interest in helping me simply because I lacked charm and could not connect with her as a person to motivate her through gaining her affections, which seems to be how most humans are motivated. She had integrity, she wanted to help because SHE was self motivated and found her job rewarding. She wanted to help because she was a good person. One day, I arrived and she told me that her attempts to really push the organizations; perhaps charities or government schemes or whatever else she could find had been successful. She'd managed to gain access to a grant which would provide £80 to fund a passport for me. 

All of this was a blur as I did not have much faith in the process, I expected it to be another disappointment and failure which I had wasted my time on and did not want to invest in it emotionally. I went through the phases but was more focused on trying to stay afloat mentally. Surviving emotionally meant feeling some joy through out my day, some normality. Not allowing the psychological disturbances from my surroundings weight me down or influence my mind into too deep of a depression from which I'd not be able to pull myself out of to keep going. I was an 18 year old in a homeless shelter. I was surrounding by middle aged people who'd been through some real nasty things in their lives and had ended up in this situation. They were hopeless about their future. Everyone had some form of a mental illness, from mild to severe. Everyone was dirty, stinky and ill. Missing teeth, skin lesions and other horrendous physical sights which signaled terrible conditions of living and misery in their everyday experiences. This was not what I wanted to be experienced at 18. 

I was spending my days in central London because it was easy to be invisible there. I could walk around in dirty clothes unnoticed and just be another tramp in central London. People were so busy with their own lives in the buzz of the city, with so much going on, noise, distractions, crowds. Nobody cared enough to pay attention and that was a good thing! I didn't want to be seen that way. I wanted to feel normal and blend in and a homeless person walking around central London is just another thing, like the pigeons, fading into the background of the city. Expected. Not out of place. The other reason I stayed in the central areas was because of course, the attractions and tourists. It was a fun place. People are there enjoying themselves, smiling, on holiday, and it was the best, liveliest vibe to aid my depressive narrative. Where else would I be but the center for amusement and livelihood, where I was a normal part of the scene, not liked but tolerated. 

The fascinating thing about me is somehow I managed to maintain a social life through out this phase. Somehow, I half managed to pass off being semi normal. Just enough so that, I managed to clean up at times and show up at clubs. I made friends, girls gave me their numbers, I would then find places to sleep with new companions by playing off myself as a free spirit who parties a lot. I even had a few girlfriends between the age of 18-20 through which I never had a place of my own to sleep, wash my clothes of get clean. A lot of that time is a blur so I have no idea how I managed it. Perhaps through out the phases when I had these short romances, I had a place to sleep even if it was on a drug addict's hostel floor they sneaked me into. I remember a gay social media platform called "downelink" existed at the time, through which I would make friends and mostly interact via text and calls with them. This kept me company, and also kept me emotionally fed which helped me stay connected to society and caring enough to want to improve my circumstances. 

To be continued...