It's winter, I'm homeless, and my sleeping bag and blankets were stolen

This kind of thing happens.  Usually it doesn't make the news.  The streets are no joke.  Shelters are usually worse because of the drama, theft, and lack of freedom to take any kind of action that might really help you get back on track.  Homeless shelters are really just Club Meds for alcoholics and junkies, they're not for anyone trying to rebuild their life.  The idea that homeless shelters work is one of the many popular myths about homelessness.

There are more spare bedrooms and empty buildings in the U.S. than there are homeless people.

After spending a few nights in a room, I made it to me sleeping spot today to find that everything is gone.  The really nice, Coleman, cold weather sleeping bag a local man loaned me.  The two moving blankets I've been using since my second, "cheap" sleeping bag was stolen.  A box with a sleeping bag liner, a warm weather sleeping bag I was given, a fleece blanket some random person left me, and a few other items, it's all gone.  Also gone is the cardboard I'd lined the little area with which provided a great deal of insulation, especially on the many sub 35 degree nights I've spent there. 

Last Monday, after surviving a 14 degree night sleeping (sort of) on the porch of an abandoned building I asked a friend form the 1980's BMX, world, Alma Jo in Texas, if she could loan me enough to get a room for a couple of nights to escape the coldest weather.  She's helped me a lot over the last few weeks.  A few other people have helped me at key times this winter, as well.  I really hated to ask her, but my fingers were damn near frostbitten that morning just in the time it took to fold up and wrap my sleeping bag and blankets in trash bags, and then walk to the local fat food place I go in the mornings.  It took a solid ten minutes of serious pain for my fingers to come back after the walk against a 15-20mph headwind in around 15-16 degrees. 

Alma Jo stepped up and loaned me enough for a week in cheap motel I stay at when I can.  For 5 1/2 months straight, I've been struggling to survive day to day, and then try to start building a viable income with my art an d writing.  It's put my street survival skills to the ultimate test.  Tiny bit by tiny bit, I've made progress, slowly and steadily.  But months of sleeping outside in all kinds of weather, from 85 -90 degrees down to 14, in wind, rain, and even the 11 inch snowstorm, I struggled alone to make it to the next day.  But it's really eaten down my body.  The first two nights in the motel room, I was exhausted, and slept far more than usual.  But I stayed warm, and started to recover a bit but I'll need weeks to really get back to any level of health when I can finally get a roof permanently. 

So I did a bunch of drawing, and finally stepped back from the stress of survival mode, and really thought about what I need to do to continue rebuilding my life.  There's no easy answer in many cases, including mine.  On one hand, I haven't bee able to get any kind of "normal" job in years, for whatever reasons.  But at the same time, I've been sleeping on this porch, open on one side, and every 2 or 3 nights,  for over three months now, I've woke up late at night and heard people talking nearby.  It's always the same conversation, "That homeless guy over there has the highest IQ in the country, it's 198."  Yes, I know how crazy that sounds.  No I've never been told my IQ is that high.  I took an IQ test in 7th grade, and I scored 132, that's the only IQ I know of.  But I most likely took an IQ test when I was going to join the Marines Reserves in early 1985.  To me, at this point, an IQ score means nothing.  It's one score, on one test, on one day, 33 years ago.  That appears to be the score that, for some reason, people here have been told a rumor I scored ridiculously high on.    All that score meant, back then, when I was probably suffering from Asperger's Syndrome, and good at taking tests, but not much else, is that I was good at certain intellectual puzzles.  It's got almost nothing to do with real life.  And it appears a great deal of harm has come to me over the last 20 years, just because of that one, high test score.  If I had any idea what taking those military entrance exams would lead to, I would have stopped halfway through and set down my pencil.  Yes, I know how crazy this sounds.  But the reality of my life is much, much crazier.  It's been a really wild ride, with lots of outside influence on my life, for the last 17-18 years.

So on one hand, I'm scraping by day by day, going to sleep every night not knowing if I'll live to see the next day.  That's just a normal level of stress on the streets.  I have dozens of stories now, that no one has heard, of the nights I nearly didn't survive.

To be honest, I've been pissed off at myself that I haven't got more done while living in the "luxury" of a cheap motel the last few nights.  But I realized just how physically beaten down I was, and I've slowed down to heal up as much as I can, knowing I'd be back on the little porch for many more cold nights in a couple of days.  I've also spent the time in the room brainstorming my path back to making a decent living.  I haven't written any blog posts as I found the things  I need to put more focus on, and let go the things distracting me from my core strengths and talents. 

So I come back across town today, and find that the sleeping bag and blankets that have helped me survive, have been taken.  Just like the bag with all my spare clothes was, and just like my second sleeping bag was, all at the same spot.  So now I need to panhandle all day today, tomorrow, and Monday, just to buy new blankets so I can go back to sleeping out.  At the same spot.  I sure as hell don't have the several days it would take to find a new spot.  There are a whole bunch of things to consider when finding a spot to sleep when you're homeless.  Unless you're drunk and just don't give a fuck.  I definitely don't have the time to start looking now. 

This is the kind of shit that happens, every day, in nearly every city, to homeless people.  There are actually people in this world who are so fucking evil they will steal the sleeping bags, from a homeless person, in the winter.  Why?  Because they just don't want to see a homeless person, and be reminded of the reality of our society, in their area of town.  Most of those people go to church every Sunday, that's another thing I've learned as a homeless man over the years. 

So, I've got two more warm and dry nights, and then shit gets real again, and the slow progress I have made is knocked back a month or so by some douchebag.  Same ol' shit.