When I Was Homeless…
It took me a while to find the right Angel…
A few days ago, I was sitting on top of the world, thrilled with the launch of my new book. And then, just a few hours later, I came crashing back down to Earth as I learned that the job I had for 14 years was gone, as I was laid off. Due to the coronavirus, it was explained to me, the company had to close.
Naturally, I was pretty distraught. I have a wife and 2 kids that I’d been providing for and I hadn’t been in a situation where I needed to be concerned about paying the bills and buying food, not for a long time.
And, since Congress hasn’t gotten its act together with a stimulus package yet, I was staring a harsh reality in the face of NOT being able to provide any more. Very scary.
I shared my feelings on a live broadcast on Twitter, reaching out to folks who have commiserated with me over the years, showing that we are all going through something real, and that the fallout from non-action to this crisis has severe, personal consequences.
The reaction was overwhelmingly positive, with many folks sending their well wishes, prayers, love, and suggestions. Quite a few had recommended that I start a GoFundMe, so they could donate. And I said no, that’s usually what folks do when they are in a desperate situation, and I’d much rather work things out on my own.
It was inevitable that at least ONE jackass would strike out at me with some bullshit…
…because that’s what they do. Trolls are pretty horrible, and I usually just block them. But what one particular troll said was SO disgusting, so repugnant, I had to screen shot it. He wrote: “You’re unemployed and going to be homeless. Hopefully you fucking kill yourself.”
I reported it, and proceeded to let those words recede to the back of my mind, locked in a box that reads “NEVER OPEN THIS BOX AGAIN.” But that comment kept picking at me. And picking, like picking at a scab that just won’t heal.
Because I had already experienced homelessness. And it wasn’t pretty.
My homeless situation was not something that I could blame on anything or anyone but myself. After all, I had been the beneficiary of an excellent private school education: I had a scholarship to The Dalton School, an exclusive prep school from which I received an extraordinary head start. And I had a family and friends that loved me.
But addiction doesn’t discriminate…
…and it affects people from every walk of life, every social class, every educational background. During much of the nineties, I fought a recurring battle with drug addiction to crack cocaine, in and out of drug rehabs with relapse after relapse.
In 1993, after having prematurely left one rehab, I went back to work (as a graphic designer). The money was decent, but my head most certainly was not right. I rented a room above the apartment where my then wife lived with her mother-in-law and our 2 sons.
Within 3 weeks, I had relapsed, and when I showed up at my mother-in-law’s house asking for money at 3AM, my now ex-wife told me “You need to leave that woman’s house upstairs. Because if you steal anything from her, you will humiliate me and my whole family.” She was right: I would have DEFINITELY stolen something, anything, everything I could. So I left.
Thus began my adventures in homelessness. They were not glamorous.
When I started out, I didn’t even consider myself homeless; I was so busy getting high, I didn’t need to sleep or eat for days at a time. I somehow managed to borrow money from folks whose bridges I hadn’t yet burned, with whom I still had some credibility.
This was before the look (and smell) of homelessness took hold of me. As it turns out, when you go for months without a shower, without washing your hair, or brushing your teeth, or changing your clothes, you REALLY smell. The kind of odor that clears a subway car in a hurry.
So, officially fitting the description of a homeless guy, I stayed in buildings, on rooftops, wherever I could lay my head for a few hours before being awoken by a cop banging his nightstick, screaming at me to get off the train, or someone chasing me out of a building for trespassing.
To make the transformation complete, I started collecting cans and bottles, but that was really hard, time-consuming work, and using a wire hanger to break into people’s cars to steal the change from their ashtrays. I was a petty thief; never mugged or robbed anyone, because that wasn’t my nature – I stole when they weren’t looking.
Eventually, so much of my soul had been replaced by crack-driven urges…
I began to shake a cup for donations. I will never forget the look of disgust mixed with bewilderment at my position: WTF is this young guy doing, shaking a cup for change? Well, it was cold, and malnutrition had made me weak, so begging for change was the EASIEST way to score more drugs.
One day, while I was shaking a cup near Union Square in Manhattan, I asked a young woman who recognized me. From The Dalton School. A part of me, buried deep beneath the layers of addiction, felt utter shame and humiliation as she reached into her purse to give me some money.
My Christmas Light…
Later that night, on Christmas Eve, I asked a doorman for money, and he asked me what had happened to me. He looked into my eyes and said he could tell that was NOT the way I was meant to live. He asked me if I’d say a prayer with him, and I told him “But I’m Muslim.” And he said, well, it doesn’t look like your God is listening to you, so let’s pray.
Why was this guy wasting his time WITH ME? In my mind, I was a complete and total failure, having been in and out of rehabs where the lesson never seemed to stick, where I always seemed to outsmart myself. I wasn’t even worth the time, I thought. His sincere concern for me felt undeserved. I wasn’t worthy.
Fine, I said, just wanting to get to the part where he gave me money. But then, on Christmas Eve, it started snowing. And I don’t remember the words he was using, but he asked God to help me, and he said within 2 weeks I would be helped. I barely realized that I was crying at the time when he handed me some money.
Two weeks later, I was in rehab.
Fast forward to today:
I haven’t shaken a cup for donations in over 2 decades, as I have managed to string together 16 and a half years of sobriety, and the sting of humiliation is somehow STILL fresh in my memory from that episode.
But suddenly, the circumstances have changed. I’m not high anymore. I think of others now, instead of just myself. My 3 sons from that first marriage are fully grown and working, but I now have 2 little ones who traveled across the globe with their Mom (my Wife) from New Zealand to be with me.
We’ve had a serious talk, my Wife and I, about asking for help. It goes against every fiber in my body right now – even when hauling groceries into the house, I like to be Mr. “I-can-handle-all-15-of-these-bags-myself” Husband. And I am stubborn. And proud.
But that pride, I have found, can be a dangerous drug, too. The kids are now fully aware of the situation, but they do not yet know how dire it is. I’m in debt over my head, with mounting bills and no job, and my ex-boss has forbidden me to work freelance for our previous clients – even though I was the ONLY designer he had on staff.
While I didn’t sign a non-compete agreement with my former boss (none of us did), he is a Breitbart-reading trump supporter who kept video cameras pointed at our computers to ensure we didn’t surf the web (while he stayed on Breitbart and Facebook), and couldn’t WAIT for a good reason to get rid of me. And so, here I find myself asking for help, buried all the way at the bottom of this impossibly-long written piece, secretly hoping that most of you will have given up reading at this point (tl;dr).
If you folks who are still reading at this point can spare $5, or even $1, every single dollar is appreciated and welcome.
My Cashapp account is $MAJIDPADELLAN.
My Venmo account is @Majid-Padellan.
My pride is kicking my ass right now, and I am certain that this piece will open me to more attacks from nasty trolls, but the memory of homelessness is even stronger, and I don’t want to expose my Wife and kids to it.
Thank you for letting me share.
Dear Brooklyn Dad, I feel your pain. I’ve been following you for while. And while my heart goes out to you, I am also struggling. My husband lost his job before the Covid-19 freefall, and I work as a contract employee now out of work as well. I wish I could offer you help. But we are counting every penny as well. I am sorry!
Thank you for your support, Francine.I’m terribly sorry to hear about the loss of work from you and your husband. Don’t worry about helping me — you need to take care of your family! I will be praying for you guys.
Dear Brooklyn Dad,
I just read your story, and I am touched by your honesty, and dedication to your family. Please don’t be discouraged and know that you’re a good person with a good heart. I will be praying for you. Thanks for sharing. I will make a donation.
Thank you for sharing. I have 9 years back, my self. After having 9 years, I relapsed for 10 years. It was horrendous. I was walking around with my kid in a baby stroller, picking up cans and bottles. I can’t believe I made it back alive without losing my kid to the system.
I am also out of work, but I will be able to help you in about two weeks. Thank you for all you do. Cant wait to purchase your book and coffee mug. Regardless of what happens, you are going to be okay. When God wants us to change something so we can carry out HIS will for us, first he taps us on the shoulder and when we take too long to pay attention, he kicks us in the ass. 😊✌💙
Louise, thank you for sharing your baby stroller memory. It’s the images like that which keep it real for me. The pain linked to those episodes helps to keep me sober DAILY. I’ve gotten my shoulder tapped and ass kicked plenty for the BOTH of us! Stay blessed, my friend!
May my God bless you with his love and his gifts of security and calm. Have faith that you are going to survive the changes happening to your world. Bad things do happen to good people and we have little control over what happens to us. Please have faith that you can survive because you are a talented clever guy who does have an impact on the lives of many. You have given us a voice and we can finally lessen our anxiety by tweeting with you. Thank you for the gift of a voice in this mean old world!
Believe it or not, Sylvia, the comments that I get from kind souls like yourself help keep me grounded and less anxious. Thank you for your prayer for security and calm — you can never have too much of either!
This is SO powerful – (I survived a NDE in 1994 due to similar issues.)
I have been following you for some time on Twitter –
You have an amazing presence and light!
I am glad you are sharing it with the world.
Thank you, Jon! I just had to Google NDE (Near Death Experience), so I have learned something from you today. And I am happy to share these experiences, especially if they help others to see their way out of darkness.
I’ve finally got sober after years of alcohol addiction.
I have no problem helping a fellow resister. And sober friend. Hang tight. Can you file for unemployment? I hope so. New York is a tough town.
Hi Susan — congratulations on your sobriety!!! May you keep it, ONE DAY AT A TIME. It’s important to try not to take on too much, or expect too much out of yourself. Taking it a day at a time is the best way to stay focused. Or an hour at a time, for those really stressful days. And yes, I have applied for unemployment, thanks for the reminder! NY is tough.
You know it isn’t your fault this time. I have no answers. This sucks big time. I will try to help when I can. As soon as I can. Don’t despair. Yet. You have a lot of fans/friends out here. ♥️
Thanks Abby, that is really kind of you. LOVE your panda profile picture, BTW. When I look at it, I can feel the stress literally melting away!
That wasn’t so hard now, was it?
When I stood up at my ex-husband’s 90 day sobriety and told my story of addiction it was the hardest thing I had ever done, except that time when I quit cocaine cold turkey after putting three marriages and a home up my nose. Two years later I met the man I would marry (for the 7th and last time). He is a recovering addict and was in the audience of that fateful AA meeting. I can’t wait to receive the books. Sue
That is a moving testimonial and I’ll be happy to contribute once I iron out the method. But, and I know this isn’t the take-away I’m meant to get from this, if you didn’t have a non-compete (even if you did and the company is closed) then you can tell your former boss to piss into the wind. I don’t know your line of work–being freelance may still be very daunting and is uncertain at the best of times. Good luck and good health to you.
I can understand your position but wouldn’t it be better to ask us to buy your book or merchandise? I am on a fixed and limited income and was considering if I could afford your book, but if you are in that bad a situation I will buy it if it makes a difference.
Brooklyn Dad Defiant,
God is so wonderful he never leaves nor forsakes us. In my lifetime he’s left his 99 sheep to find me and bring me back to him (several times he’s saved me) after I turned my back on him. We are all Brothers and Sisters through Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I Pray for everyone in the world. May God continue Blessing you and your family. Thank you for sharing and know that although we don’t know each other I know that God wants the Best for all of his Children. God Bless for all you do. #RESISTERS
Hi Brooklyn Dad, I am from Canada and follow you on Twitter and I do see that the US President is a ass and not intrested in supporting the people Thank GOD our Prime Minister is helping workers businesses and the homeless. I wiil try to send you a few dollars hopefully it will work from here, Just remember that you survive the most terrible time anyone could ever have, so you will definitely get through this because you are very strong. Love to you and your family.
Three things:
1. Forbidden you? I don’t think so! I’m NOT a lawyer (so check with one), but you should freelance your ass off for your ex-employer’s clients if you can.
2. I AM a CPA, so if you have a question or two about small business and taxes, hit me up. Free of charge.
3. Like you, I’m a dad who has felt the weight of the world on his shoulders while unfairly unemployed. Check your Venmo.