Honesty is finding yourself in the woods, realizing you are alone, in the dark, and no one is coming to save you.

There has been my dearest of friends, lending their hearts and listening ears and bits of monies they graciously share. The people that have donated a bit of their hard earned monies to assist us in this stabilization quest. The caseworkers helping the unhoused with every ounce of their kindness and resources. The people also in the trenches with these unstable transitions fighting with every thing they have to be safe and stable. I have known this reality for so many years and growing weary.

Clove and I are still living in the car. I have tried all kinds of thought avenues to convince myself that this is the new normal, yet, the reality is that we are in deep troubles without a stable place to land. What a time to be alive, wishing to relax and relish in the absolutely outstanding nature we are surrounded by, but finding the truth is much more dire and heartbreaking. Is that what you want to hear? Flowers or fear? Mountains or mud in my hair? Healing airflows or heatstroke? Why am I unable to acclimate to this new normal without a gut wrenching feeling of failure or sometimes death? How do I continue to relax when I am unable to sleep horizontal? What am I doing wrong? Why is this happening? How do I get the fuck out of this situation super speedy like lightning?

I did know all of this was hurtling fast towards us and exactly why I placed a lot of trust in someone enough to ask for help and then also trust them enough to follow their lead when they offered to help. They hurt us in the most unimaginable ways by throwing us away like trash. They did something to both of us that will not be soon forgiven nor forgotten. They put a stain on my heart like I have yet to understand how it was even possible to do to someone you called a close friend. We were bamboozled, taken advantage of, and quite literally left for dead. This kind of grief does not disappear. This kind of cold-hearted move ripples upon the waves of time. I will repair the situation for Clove and myself. The close friend will have the life they deserve.

I continue to say, this is just research, enjoy the moment, what a beautiful view, slow down and breathe. I forget to eat because each day begins by wondering how to sustain and where will we find shade so Clove does not die in the car heat? Where will we spend the night that is safe? How on earth can I get horizontal? We need a true breakthrough and we need it now. After enough nights of trying to make the impossible sleeping arrangement work, exhaustion starts to accumulate in ways that are difficult to express unless you have experienced it. The shaking hands, the eyes puffy with grains of sand, the body in pain with bruises from knocking around the sliver of area for rest. Last Friday, I turned up to an interview with only 2 hours of uncomfortable sleep convincing myself it will all be over soon.

The Car Is Now Part of the Emergency

Of course! There is another layer of urgency because the car itself needs significant repairs. The reliable transportation has been such a blessing, safety against the elements, mobility to reach appointments and interviews. It pulled us out of a desperate moment and gave us strength to carry on. The car is currently our shelter, our transportation, and one of the few things giving us mobility while we work toward this stability.

If it becomes unusable, our situation changes dramatically. I am not just sitting on my ass claiming sorrowful situations. I have been moving mountains to obtain a more certain situation for our living situation. There is active turning over rocks of resources, reaching out to every single connection that comes our way, sourcing assistance from corners after corners, asking questions, finding answers, applications and interviews, forward motion even when exhaustion tries to consume me.

Asking for Direct Action

This weekly update had the beginning sprinkles of how Clove was in a harness for the first time, took a hike with a comfortable backpack and did not scream, and how she rolled around excited to be in a tent instead of the car for a couple nights. But, I was struck with this stripping away of distraction and into the truth of what is actually happening with us. This is about honesty, not sugary candies or pretty pictures, nor pretending it is all just fine. This is a direct ask for Clove, for me, for this support network around us, and for the due diligence of accountability. Maybe it comes through like this because of exhaustion or because the hiding in a rainbow is not helping.

You may be amazed to know that even the tiniest amount builds momentum toward safe housing and reliable transportation while I work diligently and extremely hard to rebuild a stable income.

This is a no pressure ask to donate, believe me, please share this fundraiser.

A share can put our story in front of someone I do not have the ability to reach otherwise.

At this very moment, reaching more people is incredibly important. A colleague. Your community directly around you now. The local rescue or book club or class. A group of people you see regularly. Any connection that floats into your mind right now.

Of the original goal, we have received a culmination of two thousand two hundred eighteen dollars so far. These monies meant the difference between gas and privacy window curtains, between an oil change and a shower. There are no words for the gratitude each day brings. Thank you.

We Continue

We are maintaining and in full presence for solutions to show themselves. We are making plans daily and moving toward a safer and more stable life. If you can connect us with housing, employment, community resources, or someone who may know where we can find assistance, please reach out. Right now, I am open to every legitimate door. Clove and I do not need a perfect life; what we need is a safe place to sleep, a reliable way to get there, and enough stability to begin rebuilding.

From My Field Notes

(an additional segment with writings and stories from the road)

THE SWAY

The view from here expands,
around and around we go,
up and over and around the way,
she stays hidden as we continue to sway.

From the nature of things,
not the heart as it stings,
remembering to remember,
forgetting about the rings.

We ask the star that just crossed the night sky,
from a moonbeam corner,
dipped down in the center of my eye,
do we let go,
or do we just die.