On homeless outreach tonight with People’s Kitchen Belfast, I was privileged to watch an encounter with a young 24 year old man, who I’ll call Jim, and a volunteer who I will call Catherine.
We met Jim ‘tapping’ money outside a shop, his back against a tree, sitting on a sleeping bag with a coffee carton with a few coins on the ground in front of him. Jim seemed eager to talk, so Catherine sat on the pavement beside him.
Jim told us he had been on and off the streets since he was 18. He had lost contact with his family following a argument over his drug taking. He told us he had started stealing his mother’s Lyrica (Pregabalin), before moving on to Cocaine and eventually Heroin.
Jim had a brain tumour and was diagnosed as having autism.
Jim was not looking anything from us, but seemed keen to talk. He stated he had been taken to hospital yesterday, after he had taken an overdose of heroin.
He is currently staying in a hostel, but wanted to stay out of it as much as he could during the day, as the temptation of heroin was always around. He suggested he was wasn’t an addict and wanted to move away, but Housing Executive could not do so. He talked of severe mood dips and bouts of depression that were completely debilitating.
His spirit seemed crushed and defeated.
As he related his story, my own feelings were confused between sadness at the young man’s plight, and anger at a system, of which we are all part, that had allowed a young man to drop so far.
I watched too as Catherine, drew up a plan with him. Contacts to be made, GP to be consulted, Housing officer to be contacted, phone to be got. Drug outreach team to be re-engaged.
And Jim was on board with the plan. He thanked us as we left.
There was no huge change in Jim’s circumstances, Jim was still a young man, diagnosed with autism and a brain tumour, struggling with drugs addictions,and living in a place he did not want to be.
But someone had listened to him, without judging. Had not interrupted him. Had sat beside him and had tried to help.
There was no new accommodation, or miracle cure for his medical conditions. No magic wand to take away his pain and addictions. But someone had listened, treated him as an equal and given him a little hope.
As we said bye to Jim and got back in the outreach car, Catherine was quite tearful and angry at the same time. But, she had been able to channel these emotions into something positive for Jim.
It is a privilege to know Catherine, and to work alongside her. She is full of compassion, and fired by a desire not to see anyone left behind. I have learned so much from her
There are times when we could all do with being a Catherine.
