BRATTLEBORO — I landed in the shelter with my kids about six years ago. Having to accept help, instead of being the one providing help, is a horrible experience - degrading and depressing.
For my kids' sake, I treated it as an adventure. (To this day my daughter remembers that time as having “so much fun,” but I cringe when she mentions “when we lived in the shelter” in front of others.)
We're moving out of the area now, on an extremely tight budget. This time, however, I'm better prepared. Rather than risk becoming homeless again, if we can't find housing when we reach our destination, I used my meager inheritance to buy an RV, just so we'll still have a roof over our heads, our own beds, a bathroom, and a kitchen, no matter what happens when we get there.