As an AmeriCorps VISTA, my work is limited to a very small percentage of direct service. My main goal is capacity building by doing indirect service. On a slightly related note, I am devastated to report that the star between “AmeriCorps” and “VISTA” has officially been removed from my job title. Devastated. RIP asterisk.
A couple weeks ago I had a rare chance my office had to help answer our hotline calls due to one of our Foodbanks up in Cleveland hosting a Phone-a-thon and needing extra help. After three calls from various people (mothers of 5, single man, family of 4) with different needs (no gas for the past 5 months, no income/no food, any help I can give), I answered a call from a woman in Franklin County.
When I picked up the phone I could tell she was crying. Every time you pick up a hotline call it’s a little scary, because the person on the other end of the line is in so much trouble that they have exhausted all personal resources and called a hotline for any help they can get. So this woman that I was connected with, through her choked up voice, started explaining to me that she lived in a mobile home park and she owned her home, but she had to pay lot rent. She had an eviction notice on her door because she couldn’t pay her lot rent and couldn’t gather money fast enough. She would be out on the street in two days if she didn’t pay. My program helps people apply for benefits like food assistance, which she was already on, so I couldn’t offer her much from our resource pool for housing. We partner with many organizations that do offer housing assistance among other things we can’t help with, but this woman had put the effort in and sought out help at these organizations, but to no avail. The organizations she visited can’t help with lot rent, even though this was the cause of her eviction. This situation would be a major cause of stress for anyone, but this woman spilled the rest of her complications to add on to the impending eviction. She has depression, anxiety, and is bi-polar. She doesn’t have enough money to pay for her medicine, so she is quite literally fighting through life every single day. The effort to make it out of bed and to do what she needs to do is crushing, she explained. She also was told by her doctor that her front and wisdom teeth need pulled because they are diseased and poisoning her body, slowly killing her. Among other health problems for herself and not being able to afford ANY care, her daughter is in jail. I was on the phone with her for 20 minutes, just lending an ear to listen, knowing the entire time I couldn’t really do anything to help. By the end all I could give her was the number for information referral, the number of a free clinic, and the address of a homeless shelter. It was very strange hanging up the phone with a woman who I was pretty sure in two days’ time would be standing outside her home, surrounded by her evicted belongings, barraged by mental illness with nowhere to turn.
This was a difficult but humbling day. It was weird window into the most burdened population. We talk about them, we read about them, we do studies on them, we even see them. But to have this window straight into someone’s life, a 20 minute picture of everything they are facing, and then to carry around this story is a whole different situation. It sticks with you, and ultimately empowers. If I ever need motivation to keep doing capacity building, to keep developing programs and making partnerships and solidifying program infrastructure, I can easily recall those 20 minutes as a call to action and a raison d'être for my position.
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