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We are NCH
And together, we are Bringing America Home
I am NCH
NCH has always been the collective effort of people experiencing homelessness, advocates, service providers, and supports nationwide. We have been telling the stories of our members through the Faces of Homelessness Speakers Bureau, the Homelessness in the First Person Project, and through the action of our Board of Directors, staff and members. We want to hear from you: Why we should end homelessness? Where does your passion for ending homelessness come from?
Why?
Contrary to popular perception, homelessness is not caused primarily by substance abuse or mental illness. Rather, homelessness results from a complex set of circumstances that require people to choose between food, shelter, and other basic needs. Only a concerted effort to ensure jobs that pay a living wage, adequate support for those who cannot work, affordable housing, and access to health care will bring an end to homelessness.
Please SHARE your story, DONATE and help NCH meet the growing needs of America’s homeless!
How You Can Help
For further information, contact Megan Hustings, Development Director with questions at 202.462.4822
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Here is your story:
I was formerly homeless. You can read my story in my first publication, "On The Potter's Wheel: Being Made Over Into Another Vessel" on Amazon.com or xlibris.com. My name is Regina Bell. It is my desire to encourage and offer hope to others who are going through trials and tribulations. There is a way out! There is hope! Don't give up!
I support NCH because there are not enough programs that help homeless individuals/families. You don't have to be mentally ill to be homeless, but because of a lack of knowledge many people think so. More and more today, people are becoming homeless due to the economy, loss of jobs, broken relationships, etc.
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I am a college graduate from an upper middle class family who became homeless in March of 2007:
"I was raised in an upper middle class family, and thought that ""those"" homeless people simply would not get a job. When I got fired from my job and kicked out of my home by my girlfriend at the time, because I was drinking heavily to self-medicate my depression.
Before I knew what happened, I was in jail for a DUI and was let out on bail to a cold gray Sunday morning and I had no idea where to go; had no money; had no friends; no family; no safety net whatsoever. I was all alone.
My depression, drinking and ever increasing isolation had slowly destroyed the social network that most ""normal"" people rely on in desperate situations.
I hadn't showed in days and had been wearing the same dirty clothes day after day. Before I knew it, I looked like one of ""those' people. Me, a clean cut, educated suburbanite had become an outcast to society and society treated me like one of ""those"" people. They looked at me disgust or just ignored me as much as possible, staying as far away from me as they could.
My estranged Mother was the only person who tried to help me but I was too far down. It was a terrible feeling of despair and hopelessness. A knowledge that I was shunned by society and there was no way back. I knew that I would never be accepted by society again. There was just no way to pick myself up by the bootstraps. Life had become a nightmare.
I was already a ""sensitive,"" shy, anxious person to start out with and now, I somehow had to face the raw elements and the opportunistic thugs that preyed on the weak, and I was very weak. Weak physically; weak emotionally; weak spiritually; just weak and scared.
It seemed so cruel that emotionally fragile people would be cast out into the ""wilderness"" to fend for themselves. If they had any emotional problems before homelessness, the stress and despair would certainly put them over the edge.
I have heard people say that America is a generous nation and takes care of the downtrodden. I found out the hard way that as far as homeless people are concerned, this generous nation wants nothing to do with them, with me.
My mother tried to help me as best she could, but everywhere we went for temporary assistance, we hit a brick wall. There were just too many homeless and I was last in line. My mother wasn't made out of money but she put me up in a cheap motel.
When she left, I would set at the end of the bed and cry from the very depths of my soul. I was in so much pain and shock and stress; I would cry out to God to take my life right now. I prayed for the end every day and every night. Finally, I almost subconsciously attempted suicide. I filled up the bathtub so i could electrocute myself and at the same time, I was tying cords and rope together to hang myself.
I finally just took all the anti- depressant pills i could find and every athe kind of pill.
My mom was an early riser, and that morning she decided to just go straight to the motel. I was having seizures and she said my eyes were rolled back all the way around with just the white showing. I was convulsing. I was dying.
She called 911 and somehow they revived me. Had she not come to the motel when she did, i would have expired.
The strangest thing happened from that point. After 72 hours in the psych jail, all of the sudden there was a room available for me at a charity that tries to provide transitional rooms for the homeless. Also, psychiatric and medical assistance was somehow available and I must say, I received some very badly needed medical care and psychological care. I was assigned a case worker who was very good at her job and she got me in to Vocation Rehabilitation. Vocational Rehab spent all kinds of money on me for aptitude tests, I.Q. tests. interest tests.
They determined that a smart, clean cut guy from the suburbs would be good at law. They paid for my tuition, books, whatever. I received straight A's and am on my way to a good career. I might even go to law school someday!
It's a shame that I had to pretty much die in order to be saved, but that's exactly the way it happened. I wasn't seeking ""attention"" or anything. I just wanted to die,and because of my mom, i survived, and then, suddenly, I became ""worthy"" of help and assistance from society.
You ask me why I support the National Coalition for the Homeless? The answer is because I was just like all those other people who looked at the homeless as lepers. They are human beings and if we get close enough to them we can see a relative, a friend, maybe even ourselves.
On Thursdays, I help prepare and serve hot meals for about 250 homeless men, women, and increasingly, children at the local soup kitchen. I have gotten to know many of them. We chat when we see each other on the street or at the library, but i still see the despair in their eyes, so fragile. It amazes me how some of the homeless can be so polite and kind when you talk to them. They just want to feel some human compassion, any compassion, in a life filled with despair, fear, cruelty and just plain animosity from the rest of the population.
If I can make just a few homeless feel that there is compassion, there is friendliness, there is a kind face, there is brotherly love, even if it's just a little bit of love, then there is hope. Yes, there is hope if we give hope.I just don't think people should have to almost die to receive it."
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