When I arrived at the shelter it was explained to me that I was admitted to an emergency program that would expire in 30 days. They gave me a list of transitional shelters and informed me I needed to call every shelter every day seeking longer term housing. Which meant the issue of where I would live was a constant stress. Residents are required to check in and out every time leaving the premises, follow curfew and several other rules. (The stress exacerbated the auto immune and pain I was fighting. I mention this for the benefit of anyone dealing with a vax injury. The overwhelming emotions affected and delayed my healing. I often wonder how much quicker I might have recovered if I had different circumstances.)
When I woke up the second day I was depressed and anxious. Ever since my body was destroyed by the vaccine I could not escape debilitating pain or function unless I took pain and inflammation relief around the clock. As soon as my eyes popped open and I shifted to reach my pain meds the metal frame of the bunkbed creaked and swayed absorbing my every movement. As grateful as I was to have a bed to sleep in, my body revolted against the thin, well-worn mattress.
Because of the confidentiality rules, I had to be picked up and dropped off away from the grounds. My mission that first full day was to see how far I could walk and figure out where I would be able to get rides to continue doing everything I had to do to get well. I went to bed crying, woke up crying and cried throughout the day every day. The obstacles I faced for survival crushed my morale and my heart broke further under the struggle it took to merely exist.
The first week was brutal. Slowly but surely I met the other housemates - 4 women and 5 children. Some had been in and out of shelters but others were first-timers like me. In the world the divisiveness regarding the V is palpable. Not knowing how anyone viewed the V or an injury like mine, I kept it to myself. I wanted to avoid conflict. Now I don’t want to offend anyone but I’m going to tell it like it was. It was obvious to everyone there I was not “like them”. That made it hard to fit in. Everyone else shared the same ethnicity, culture and background. That first week every time I opened my mouth my style of speech, vocabulary and communication made all of them uncomfortable. It was clear to me that if I was to get along here, I would need to earn their trust.
The unit had 1 small kitchen (and refrigerator) everyone shared. The women often cooked one very large dinner meal and everyone ate together. They would laugh, goof around, enjoy each other’s company and help care for each other’s kids. I stood out like a sore thumb. I will never forget, several days into arriving there, they invited me to join them. It really meant a lot to me. I was so lonely. (and the food smelled absolutely delicious!) The sad thing is I could not sit up at the table with them and house rules prevented me from taking the food to my room, I had to decline. The good thing is that invitation helped alleviate feeling unwelcome in the place I was now living.
The next several days the initial shock began to relax. I broke out of my shell and began getting to know the other ladies and their children. One of the ladies arrived there just 1 day before me. She wasn’t even 30 years old, she had never been in a shelter and she had her 3 children with her. Like soldiers in a foxhole become brothers to the end, I realized all of us were bound together by our misfortune. As bad off as I was, I could not imagine the terror of being so young, no job, no home and 3 kids. That is when I realized it was time to take the focus off my own problems and be a friend to someone that desperately needed one. Once again, in the midst of the agony and turmoil of this journey, God gave me a purpose. That purpose revived the light inside me, and that light gave hope to everyone there. Even me.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Jabbed Jenny to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.