How I Became One of 37,000 Homeless Veterans
IN 2006, I SERVED AS A U.S. NAVY IT specialist aiding my ship’s mission of finding and neutralizing pirates off the coast of Somalia. Two years later, I was homeless, standing in a line in Gainesville, Florida, that twisted around the block so I could donate blood in exchange for 20 bucks.
Many of the men waiting with me looked almost as bad as I did—all of us homeless and hungry. My hair was matted, crusted from dandruff, and my eyes were bloodshot. My fingers tingled because of withdrawal from the anti-anxiety medications I wasn’t getting from the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA). Between childhood trauma and my four years in the service, I relied on medications such as clonazepam for anxiety and Zoloft for PTSD, but the VA delivered my medication through the mail, and I hadn’t had a stable home for some time—I was couch surfing, car
