From Monday, July 17, 2017 To, but not including, Thursday, November 1, 2018

 From Monday, July 17, 2017

To, but not including, Thursday, November 1, 2018

Result: 472 days

Or 1 year, 3 months, 15 days 

Or 15 months, 15 days 

-- Alternative time units --

472 days can be converted to one of these units:

40,780,800 seconds

679,680 minutes

11,328 hours

472 days

67 weeks and 3 days

That's how long my family and I spent in the Hell known as Haven House, a homeless shelter that serves approximately 14 counties in southern Indiana. To this day I'm still working through the trauma from that place. 

Where do I even begin? The whole experience was so traumatic to me. I was an only child and was never around this many people. On any given night there were over 100 people there. Some were alcoholics. Some were on drugs. There were families. Some of the children were okay but the vast majority were horribly undisciplined.

I was separated from my husband and son because, for safety reasons, the men were on a different floor than the women. I had serious separation anxiety. Plus my husband is my caretaker and he wasn’t able to do for me the things he normally did. I had to do things for myself, which was very difficult on me, given my various health issues. I frequently had anxiety and panic attacks. And because of my heart I ended up in the hospital more than once. 

I was in a room with 9 other women, and most of them were nerve-wracking. Inevitably there were the clashes of personalities. Not just in my room, but all over the floor. And I can honestly say that I never want to see some of those people again as long as I live. I’ve never heard so much yelling and screaming and fighting in all my life. Sometimes it got physical. Police were called on numerous occasions. The men were worse than the women for the fighting. Sometimes they even attacked staff. Hate is such a strong, nasty word. But I honestly hated some of the people there. Like I said,  there are some that I never want to see again for the rest of my life. They grated on my nerves so bad. Just a small sampling of the more mildly annoying things:

How many times must you announce that you have to take your medication one pill at a time or else they get stuck? And please for the love of all that's holy (or unholy if you prefer), please stop calling this couple Mama and Daddy. You are 50 years old. Both of them are younger than you. And the woman's son is not your little brother. Most of us here agree that you sound stupid.

Also why did people insist on telling me the most trivial inane things? Did I really need to know that you went outside and there was a bug on your shirt? 

Did you have to ask me every single day if I knew what dinner was? And obsess on it!  You sounded like a child talking about Xmas presents! (My husband worked in the kitchen for about a week and suddenly I was the expert as to what we were having.)

And we know! We know! You can't eat eggs. They sour in your stomach. We get it. You didn’t have to announce it every time we had eggs. Don't want them? Don't eat them!

And of course we had to listen to the woman who always talked about stuff from years ago. Apparently she has the amazing ability to remember every conversation she's ever had, word for word.

One day she was telling me about some secret in her family. It took place in Lexington KY. Or was it Frankfort? And the people from the Young and the Restless were involved. As in the fictionalized characters from the soap opera. Sometimes I wonder about her grasp on reality.

On Halloween of 2017 she put a note on the door to her room. It was warning people to be careful and not let a witch into your room. It was all I could do to not burst out laughing. (I used to be her roommate. She has no clue anything about me. No clue that I'm not some good Christian. I never mentioned a word about Witchcraft.)

Of course, there were the people who couldn't seem to mind their own business too. Voices traveled easily there. And some people had to jump into things that had absolutely nothing to do with them, either verbally getting involved or gossiping about it.

I know. This may not have been that bad for most people. Maybe? I don’t know if it was me just handling things badly but these things happened every single day. I’m very sensitive with a lot of anxiety. I didn’t handle things well at all. And I kept things bottled up inside of me when I couldn’t vent to my family. I was the peaceful quiet one. I didn’t get involved in things. I never got in a shouting match with anyone, though I wanted to cuss out so many people.

There are more stories from this place. For example the certain group of “men” who would moo at the women when we came downstairs for meals. That pissed me off so bad. I ended up complaining to staff about that one. (Karma! The main one who mooed at us ended up breaking his hip. Never moo at a witch.)

I’ll spare you the worst of the horror stories. This is bringing back too many bad memories.