Read this essay online or reprint it at:
http://www.coldandhungry.org
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." -- Matthew 25:35
For those who suffer, connections to those that want to help you. What you personally can do to ease the lives of those who suffer.
Michael David Crawford
mike@coldandhungry.org
I usually say "I was once just like you," but that's not quite right. While I no longer suffer as I once did, far more truthful is to say that I am and always will be one of you. Hardly anyone ever figures out unless I tell them that I have one of the very worst mental illnesses there is, not because I'm not crazy, but because I'm quite good at what is known as "passing", that is, passing for that which I am not.
If you provide shelter, food, clothing, medical treatment, mental health treatment, crisis counseling, or drug rehabilitation to those in need, please submit your information to:
If you have a website, be sure to include its URL. If you do not yet have a website, I'll be happy to help you get one at very little or no cost.
Eventually you will be able to register for a free account here, with which you may submit and maintain your organization's information yourself then have it show up online immediately.
From My Deepest Fear:
Saturday afternoon I ventured out onto East Hastings Street to see if it was really as dangerous as I had heard.
It was. Just down the street was a big crowd of really hard-looking, unfortunate people. I immediately realized it was the wrong place for a naive country boy like me.
I wasn't on East Hastings for ten seconds before I got solicited by a really hard-looking prostitute.
I want to explain to you why, despite that I did not take her up on her offer, I looked her right in the eye and smiled gently for a moment before I silently turned and walked away.
In Melancholia I wrote:
In the deepest parts of depression the isolation becomes complete. Even when someone makes the effort to reach out, you just cannot respond even to let them in. Most people don't make the effort, in fact they avoid you. It is common for strangers to cross the street to avoid coming close to a depressed person.
If you come across a depressed person as you go about your day, one of the kindest things you can do for them is to walk right up, look them straight in the eye, and just say hello. One of the worst parts of being depressed is the unwillingness that others have to even acknowledge that I'm a member of the human race.
I am a country boy at heart. I have never liked living in cities because they make me feel so anonymous. What I hated the most about going to school at Caltech, in the Los Angeles suburb of Pasadena, was that anytime I got more than two blocks from campus no one knew who I was anymore. It wasn't for a couple of years, not until just a couple months before I dropped out of Caltech entirely that I made my first off-campus friend.
But I know that even worse than living in a city, even worse then being anonymous in a city, even worse than being all alone in a city of millions of people without a single friend not just in Vancouver but in the whole entire world, is:
The single most fucked-up awful feeling that one can have is to know, to be absolutely certain of because it is beaten into you blow by blow, every day, maybe even a hundred times a day, that not only does no one care about you, but that you are actually not even worth caring about, that you are one of The Untouchables, that you are less than, that you are sub-human, that you are a burden on society, that you are a blight on what would otherwise would be one of the most beautiful cities on the face of the Earth.
To know, deep in your heart, that no one whatsoever would miss you, or even notice, if you just dropped dead.
And why?
Because you are homeless.
Because you are mentally ill.
Because you are addicted.
Because you are a woman who sells your body for the pleasure of strange and uncaring men.
Because you are a man who does the same.
And just how do I know that such people have the most fucked-up awful feeling in the entire world? There's one more reason one might feel that way:
Because You Are Utterly And Irretrievably Batshit Insane.
In a moment I'll explain why I smiled so gently at the hooker. They have a saying for it in Alcoholics Anonymous:
I must have said that to myself twenty times a day since I got here last Thursday night, and every single time it's made my eyes well up with tears. A couple of times I've said it on the phone to Bonita and it made me cry like a baby. Sometimes I get so choked up I can't even say it, but have to stop talking until I can calm down.
Quite likely you pass as well, or try to anyway. But even so, pretending everything is OK doesn't make things feel right for you. But It Doesn't Have To Be That Way!
The vast majority of mentally ill people never seek treatment in their entire lives. Most don't know they are mentally ill. Those who do just assume - incorrectly - that nothing can be done about it.
Many are addicted to drugs for their entire lives. I never say "drugs and alcohol" because that implies that somehow alcohol is not a drug, despite all the death, destruction and suffering alcohol addiction causes. Despite all their suffering, many addicts never even attempt to get clean, perhaps because they feel no hope of successful recovery, perhaps they fear the suffering that comes from withdrawal, perhaps because they find some comfort in their addiction despite its horrible cost.
Many, possibly even most who are violently or psychologically abused by those who were once ardent and affectionate lovers continue to suffer in silence, perhaps believing that they deserve their fate, or perhaps they have the idea that somehow they can make it stop, or just try to pretend that it doesn't happen.
Vast numbers of people were thrown out of their homes during this latest economic downturn. From time to time I see homeless people who were clearly once quite well-to-do, because they roam the cold, dark streets attired in stylish clothing, with what's left of their worldly possessions kept in expensive rolling luggage.
My main objective is to help all these kinds of people find a way out of their despair by connecting them to the many government services, religious organizations, volunteer organizations and private businesses who want to serve them. No one needs to starve anymore. While you may not have much luxury, there is plenty of food for everyone to have a good meal, if only you knew where to find it.
Perhaps you are not so unfortunate, you want to help, but don't know what to do. The usual advice is to donate to charity, to tithe to your church, or to volunteer to work with the homeless and hungry. Yet there are so many! It can be hard to believe that just one person's money or time can make a difference.
Giving of your money and time are both helpful, in fact vitally important, but my original aim for this whole website was to get the word out as to what I regard as most important, most significant, and what could make the most difference to someone who leads a life of despair, because my own experience has always been that what follows made the very most difference to me:
The truly vital material needs of most humans are little more than those of most wild animals: food and water, shelter from the cold. I am completely confident that you could drop me buck-naked in all but the harshest environments of the Earth, and I would do just fine.
What I could not survive for any length of time, what very few others could survive, is isolation from society.
The next time someone asks you for spare change, rather than brushing them off, passing them by, telling them to get a job, instead offer to buy them a meal. It need not be expensive. Sit with them as they eat and get to know them.
If you don't have the cash for that, instead politely apologize for not giving them money, but introduce yourself, ask their name, offer to shake their hand, then spend a few minutes getting to know each other.
By nothing more than the simple act of shaking the hand of someone who society regards as not having hands worth shaking, you may have saved a human life.
Simple human companionship and compassion are far greater gifts, and far more important to all of us than any amount of money.
Read this essay online or reprint it at:
http://www.coldandhungry.org