In 2012, just four months after my father passed away, some unfortunate events followed his passing, including becoming homeless on my end. I was 19. Lucky enough at the time, I had a few people who allowed me to couch surf, so I never had to sleep on the street, but I also consistently found myself in situations where permission had been giving by people who didn't have the authority to make that call. More often than not, I would be woken up by someone I had never met before- yelling at me to leave their house.
I think the hardest thing for me during this time was the way people looked at me. There were a lot of assumptions that my lack of home was because I had been involved in drugs, or had been in trouble with the law in some way, and neither were the case.
Eventually I found a job locally and that lead to more stability, a place of my own, and control of my life. Even then though, living in Santa Cruz at the time was expensive. I was hungry. I ended up losing 50 pounds in under 4 months, simply because I didn't have the means to afford food.
I forget sometimes that this part of my life existed because I have had the privilege of resources to help me get out of this situation and better my life that others aren't so lucky to get, or don't have the mental stability to seek.
These experiences taught me to never take anything in my life for granted and to be the most kind person I can possibly be.