BOBBI

PHOTO BY RANDY BACON

BOBBI’S STORY

This go ‘round of being homeless, it’s been about two and a half months. It is the second time my husband, or ex-husband (at this point not sure if we’re divorced or not) has put me on the streets in an attempt to take the things that have been left me. My beneficiary rights to things connected to my identity from my parents and brother and sister and my grandpa have all left me, not positive of everything, but I know enough that it’s enough that I need to fulfill my dreams of saving the world but if not the world, a lot of deserving people. I’m thankful for being on the streets at this point, because I’m meeting a lot of good people, and I’m hearing the stories, and being the person that I am. I can see and feel the good in everybody. I know, and have been a victim to a lot of those stories that turn people into the labels that they get which keep them under, and with no chance to rise. Because once the label is there, it’s pretty much over for a person these days.

I’m talking about labeling people for a bad moment, or a story that they were victimized in, that created something for them. It just takes a little bit of love given to a person to turn their whole world around, and there’s so very few people out there willing to give just a little love to that person on the street holding a sign begging for help, and they all deserve it. Everybody deserves forgiveness. Everybody deserves a second chance. And all that person needs is just one flicker of hope and one leg to stand on, but the world’s not willing to give that to people anymore, and I’m gonna do everything I can to change that. And I will. Someday, my story, beginning to end, is gonna make a difference, and I’m willing to tell it. I’m starting the recovery from my identity theft, and I plan to bring the deserving people that I’ve met along my way of being homeless on the streets, I’m bringing them with me, and we’re all gonna be okay.

For me, the hardest thing about being on the streets is getting wet, being cold, wanting a shower so bad. It makes you sick to think about what you look like and what you feel like. It’s hard not feeling safe, being afraid to go to sleep, knowing that even though you need this really bad and the money that you’re fixing to spend on it, you’re really gonna need to eat tomorrow probably, and not only that, it’s gonna get stolen from you at some point. But it’s juggling around, and you have to go minute by minute and just know that the next attack’s around the corner. Until you get off the streets, it don’t get any better.

I do have family out there, but for the safety of the good ones, I stay away from them. Because as I take the attacks from the people needing to make sure that I don’t prove my identity, I’m letting the other ones do their thing and they are coming off the streets. I wish people understood that every homeless person is a victim of something and without a little bit of hope and one good strong chance that most of them never get, they’ll never come off the streets. As I said, this is my second go ‘round of my husband putting me on the street. The first time, I didn’t know anything about the resources out there and the first time I suffered a lot. This time I’ve not suffered so much and I met some really good people. My hope is that people realize that no one’s story is over yet.