Becoming Homed

When I first decided to become homeless, I knew that it would require some adjustment. I failed to realize that the return would also require adjustment. I have been homed for months now, but I still catch myself relapsing into my homeless mindset. It is the same kind of feeling that I have when I walk out of the kitchen with a plate of food. I stop and think, “I can’t take this food out of the kitchen. It is against the rules.” Then I realize, that I am an adult now. Mother won’t see me, and even if she did, she wouldn’t disapprove in the slightest. That rule, that principle, that phase is over.

I still catch myself putting on sandals whenever I leave my room. When you live in an automobile, it is good to keep a pair of sandals handy so that leaving the “house” to use the bathroom doesn’t require putting on socks, lacing up shoes, and then repeating the process in reverse a few seconds later. Since the “house” is just one room, it becomes a habit; when I leave the room, I put on sandals. Now that I live in a house, I walk across the room to put on sandals just to go to the bathroom. I have to verbally remind myself, “No, you don’t need sandals just to go next door.” I tell myself, but I still won’t listen.

I remember the giddiness I felt when I first put on a pair of pajamas. I removed one pair of clothing and put on another pair that was designed just for sleeping. Wow. Sleeping clothes! Not only that, but I could both remain standing AND have privacy while doing so. Before it was a choice: either I would change clothes while inside a sleeping bag or I would stand up and wait for no cars to be driving by. And sleeping in a sleeping bag fully clothed gives a new level of meaning to the term frumpy.

One activity that I enjoyed while homeless was the listening of audiobooks. The library has no short supply of them, so I would spend many night getting a bedtime story from Jeffrey Devers, David Sedaris, or some no-name up-and-coming. It was great. When I became homed again, I found “Life of Pi” on my computer hard drive. I was so excited to listen to it again. I spent a few minutes trying to decide if I should put it on CD or copy it onto an MP3 player. The former would be more convenient later, but then I would have a stack of CD to carry around until…wait a minute. I had to shake myself. Why not just listen to it? Go ahead, just play it. I double-clicked on the first chapter and sat back to listen. I had forgotten that I could have recreation time in a place that didn’t have a steering wheel.

Then there was the day that I went clothes shopping. I wanted to make a good impression on the parents of my first crop of students. I knew that I would need some respectable clothes. Earlier that month, I had been putting the finishing touches on a play that I had been working on. I was volunteering at a homeless shelter. I had been working with several homeless children at a summer school program, but since the program shut down, these kids had no where to go. I decided to put on a play and use these homeless children as the cast and crew. One step to putting on the play was getting costumes. I had made an arrangement with Deseret Industries to have black T-shirts and denim pants given to every child that didn’t already own such. I felt like Santa Claus on the day that I delivered them. There were slim pickins at D.I. when I went there, so a few of the boys had to were girls’ shirts. They didn’t care. They were so grateful to have a real costume. And then there was me. I went into a mall and purchased $200 worth of clothes in 30 minutes. When I got out to my car I felt sick inside. Why do I get so much? I called my brother right away and he talked me through some cognitive re-framing exercises to mitigate my guilt. That was over a year ago. I haven’t purchased jeans from a mall since.

Yes, coming back was difficult. I still find myself choking on the excess and gluttony with which I am surrounded and involved. Life is simpler without. Sometimes I wonder how much I have reverted back into apathy. But a few days ago, I got home from work after a long day to discover that the power had gone out in my part of the city. Life wasn’t much different that night from any other night. When the power came back on, I didn’t change what I was doing. I didn’t catch myself saying “Finally!” or “Thank goodness!” Instead, it just happened.

To me, that was evidence that you can put a boy in a house, but you can’t make him homed.