Thankfully in my bed.

Today I am thankful that I am not homeless. After a meeting yesterday I gave a young woman, from a town an hour or so away, a ride to the Library. She was going to spend time there, like many without a place to live, until she could get into the shelter. Med City’s shelter is nice but only holds 22 people; I hope she was able to get a bed.

She is not the first, and will not be the last, person I’ve met in the rooms who is homeless. Addiction robs you of everything; no one wants you if you’re  drinking, drugging and stealing. She was in town awaiting an addiction assessment, hoping to get a long-term inpatient treatment somewhere. She appeared to be sober and willing to go to great lengths to further her sobriety.

Her assessment is not until Friday. She hopes her Grandmother, from her hometown, will pick her up and she’ll spend Thanksgiving with her. I  hope this happens, but have the feeling she will be in limbo until she goes to treatment. If she is in town, I hope she finds her way back to the club on Thursday. They have a wonderful, all-day Thanksgiving celebration. Addiction does not judge. It can take anyone to low depths. But for the most part, the people in the rooms do not judge either, for they have been to those deep dark places themselves.

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