Gloria says she first tried crystal meth at a party with her friends in Tulare County over 25 years ago. She used Meth daily after that in part to help numb the layers of pain, grief, and trauma of sexual abuse she survived as a child.

A 54-year-old mother of 2, Gloria tells me an overdose and a failed suicide attempt pushed her in the direction of a recovery program that rescued her from over two decades of addiction.

“I saw myself floating over my body and I saw myself ask my boyfriend for help, but he had his headphones on and couldn’t hear me, so I asked God to help me and then I woke up on the couch.”

Gloria found herself at Sutter Hospital battling pneumonia and having to answer tough questions by the staff like, “Did you try and hurt yourself?” When Gloria answered courageously and honestly, “Yes,” the staff at Sutter helped her get to Turning Point Crisis Residential where they guide guests like Gloria into transitional housing and addiction recovery programs. From TPCR, Gloria was accepted into Sister Nora’s house which is where she lives currently.

“I’ve been off meth for five years and I haven’t had a drink in twenty-six years. I’m super clean and I go to NA and AA and I try to keep myself positive every day. I refuse to lose anything anymore, I’ve got to stand up for “Me” because that’s all I have,” she says.

Gloria wears a small, delicate Wonder Woman necklace and when she talks about what that means to her she smiles and says, “Stand up for yourself and be strong. Don’t be afraid to say “No” and always be who you are supposed to be.”

This photo of Cornelius & April from my ongoing series “Hope vs Hope, Vignettes of the Unsheltered”, aka “Portraits of Dignity” was featured and trending on the National Geographic website.

David Y. Lee, Producer, Nat Geo Your Shot added a lengthy and humbling comment too. It is so rewarding when viewers/editors/shot producers, etc. connect with the portraits of the guests at Loaves & Fishes.

“Fantastic job presenting your portrait — I love how you included two frames, making this feel like a film negative contact sheet. I love the difference in expression between the two frames, which implies a range of emotions you documented — and that this moment captured your attention. Then I really love your detailed caption, which further shares Cornelius and April’s story. Together your photos and caption deliver a powerful story. Well done Douglas. Very well done.”   David Y. Lee, Producer, Nat Geo Your Shot

Although Cornelius & April’s story and portrait were on this blog a few months back I’m adding their story here too.

---

Cornelius and April live in an early model Cadillac on the streets of Sacramento.

California natives, they met on the street four years ago. Sharing their childhood memories and experiences brought them closer together. Their struggles are very similar to each other. Cornelius and April both had to drop out school to help take care of family.

“His Mom was shot six times by his Dad, so he really had it hard growing up and trying to go through school, his sister raised him,” April says.

“I just wanted a good job, but my teachers would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up and when you tell them something and they’d say, ‘No, well, you should think along the lines of being the man who comes and picks up the trash for a job.’ I didn’t know anything about racism until then. They were always telling us things to put us down. I knew the last week of the month we never had any food, I filled out many job applications, but I could never get a job. So, I started hustling, selling drugs and all different types of stuff. It was tough seeking any kind of legal job,” Cornelius says.

April tells me Cornelius spent most of his adult life, 30 years, in the penitentiary system.

A problem many homeless living in their cars face is having their cars towed due to out of date registration, tickets or other violations.

“It’s against the law to sleep in your car,” Cornelius says. “Mostly the police want you to park your car on private property, but if we had private property that would be like somebody’s house,” April says.

April tells me she is retired, and both receive some assistance every month, but it’s just not enough to afford an apartment in Sacramento.

“We have no references for renting and the waiting lists are so long too,” April says.

April and Cornelius face each day with optimism and enjoy the simple things, like sharing candy they loved in their childhood, and they tell me that It’s nice to know they have somewhere to go in the morning when they wake up, like Friendship Park.

“It’s nice not being hungry and being able to do laundry. It’s a safe place and we can meditate there too,” April says.

Charles laughed and talked about his invention of kindness. Charles talked about how the police beat him and drove him miles away from his place behind the restaurant where he made his home. Charles spoke of the death of his daughter and the fire that consumed her, as he spoke he wept, his eyes mirror the loss and pain.

Through it all Charles smiled, laughed, and spoke of helping others and the love for his fellow man.

Andre yells from the library door into the library as he walks quickly over to the lighting set up, “To be, or not to be!”

“I came here to get a book, I didn’t even know you were here,” Andre says as we shake hands and embrace.

“Did you get a new tattoo?” I said.

“This one’s is for my kids,” he said.

Andre sits down, turning away from the light.

He pulls his t-shirt collar downward, exposing his freshly inked neck, “Winners never quit.”

Lawrence, a father of two, points to substance abuse, his parent’s tough love and the death of his grandfather while Lawrence was in jail as contributing factors to his homeless life on the streets of Sacramento.

When he was released from jail, Lawrence did not go home. Instead, he went straight to using, becoming untethered from his family. He drifted through the streets, bouncing from shelter to street, and then back again. His drug use, which numbed his pain and the loss of his grandfather and his support system, ushered Lawrence further into complete homelessness.

While at a mission, someone suggested Lawrence try to get into Guesthouse, which could allow him to gain a spot on the Palmer List, a waitlist for the Palmer Apartments program.

“When I went to Palmer, my head started to clearing up and I started looking around at my life. I wasn’t taking things too seriously and my spirit was down. I never would have made it this far without the harm reduction program,” Lawrence says.

According to the transforming lives and cultivating success website, “Palmer is a short-term interim housing and harm reduction program for adults who are experiencing homelessness.”

Lawrence points to the hard work he did in AA, coupled with Palmer’s harm reduction program as key factors in helping him get clean. Palmer is aware of the likelihood of relapse and is equipped to help those experiencing a relapse like Lawrence did.

I asked Lawrence to imagine going back in time. What advice would he give to his 19 year-old self?

“Learn to be more responsible,” Lawrence says, “Think about what you can do tomorrow and plan your future. Don’t depend on someone else to handle it for you. The number one thing is…don’t get into drugs.”