Why It’s Easy To Accept Homeless Drug Addicts
Remembering my friend Stevie from the Casa Del Sol Motel
I like to make friends with the people who camp on my street. I give them food and supplies and listen to their stories. Recently I had to set some compassionate boundaries, but mostly we get along.
They’re stuck in an endless cycle of drug addiction and the mental instability that follows. Kicking heroin is a bitch, and so is not using it when you have to live on the street. I’m sad and angry that we can’t do more to get them out of hell, but I do what I can.
Whenever I see a shopping cart some poor soul had to pack to the brim with their precious belongings, I imagine how it could’ve been me or my mother. I’m a recovering alcoholic and addict and have had my share of problems.
My mother struggled with mental illness most of her life and all of mine. She never abused drugs, but her troubled mind kept her homeless for most of my life. She looked cheerful, with her signature purple coat, bright pink lipstick, and flowers in her hair, but that didn’t fool me. My mother was one of the most difficult people to be around.
Unsurprisingly, I keep meeting people in similar circumstances. Like my mother, a few have helped me learn how to maintain strong boundaries. Many have…
