My Stolen Birthday

Mike shares his recent struggles, including the theft of his belongings around his 39th birthday. Despite these setbacks and over two years of living on the streets, he remains resilient, finding gratitude in those he's met during this journey.

He highlights the challenges of being unhoused, emphasizing the loneliness and difficulty in trusting others. Nonetheless, he expresses his heartfelt gratitude for the various community organizations, nonprofits, and churches that have devoted time, energy, and resources to helping him and others needing assistance, companionship, empowerment, and love.

Mike hopes to take with him from these experiences a newfound confidence and the unshakable "street cred" to be an effective advocate for others in similar circumstances. It is by walking the streets and fostering kindness that we can make communities safer. Concluding with a hopeful message, Mike emphasizes resilience and finding joy amidst adversity. He aims to survive his challenges to tell his story and commits to being a voice for those whose stories remain unheard.

It's been a while since my last live post, and the reason for this silence has been a series of unfortunate events. Last month, right around my 39th birthday, my wallet, phone, laptop, tablet, and even WANDA were all stolen. Happy belated birthday to me, I guess.

Right now, I'm using an Amazon Fire device as my only electronic link to the world. I still need to file police reports and work on replacing everything. It was, needless to say, a pretty rough birthday.

For those who wished me a happy birthday on Facebook, thank you. I usually try to respond to every message, but this year, with everything stolen, it was difficult.

It's frustrating; it's been over two years since my last full-time engineering job. It's tough to do job interviews without a laptop or a phone. I've even had interviews fall through before because of a lack of access to these basic tools. This whole experience has been incredibly trying.

I'm tempted to ask for donations, as I have in the past, but honestly, I'm just tired of asking for money. This 'sabbatical' from work has dragged on for too long; it's become a draining loop. I'm trying to find ways to motivate myself despite all the things I've lost. At least I can legally buy weed now and somehow afford it, and I still have my vape, so I'm grateful for the few things that haven't been stolen.

Some people ask if my homelessness is a factor in these thefts. It's a complex question, but I think the worst part of being unhoused isn't the lack of a physical home, it's the people you encounter. I'm longing for the quality of friends I had when my life was more stable. This journey has been an adventure, but I think the adventure has closed. It was more fun when I was actually traveling and seeing places like Natchez, Mississippi, or New Orleans. Being unhoused in Columbus for over a year has really worn me down.

I miss my old friends from when I had more stability and my belongings weren't constantly getting stolen. I know some of you might criticize my lack of housing or my inability to secure my things, and I understand.

I've been on the streets for over two years now, and somehow, I've managed to get through it without losing all my faith in humanity. As I've said in previous reflections, being on the streets of Columbus has made me fall in love with the city in a way I never appreciated when I had a place and was in my 'young professional bubble.' I've met some truly wonderful and kind people here, some unhoused and some not. The variety of people I've met has been one of the best parts of this experience, along with the various organizations and nonprofits that have helped me.

Connecting and Finding Faith

Another aspect of my life that has been enriched by this experience is my religious faith. Religion is a bit of a complex topic for me, as I don't strictly identify as Christian. However, I've found a lot of value in the lessons, scripture, and Bible verses I've encountered through various churches. I've met amazing people, and I feel closer to God than ever before. While I don't always take the 'Jesus stuff' literally, I admire Jesus for his deeds and humility. I can relate to the concept of overcoming adversity and embodying humility.

I'm grateful for the positive teachings I've found in these churches. Of course, I filter out some of the more judgmental interpretations, but overall, attending services, even if not regularly, has been beneficial, if nothing else for a free meal.

I want to recognize a few churches in Columbus that have been particularly impactful during my last couple years.

First, the Shiloh Christian Center in Olde Towne East. I haven't attended their services yet, but I've grown close to some of their volunteers. There are nights I go there not just for the food, but for the sense of family and community. I truly adore the individuals who volunteer their time there.

Second, the Short North Church, and particularly Pastor Amy. Her sermons are always uplifting, and I find the church to be very progressive. I especially appreciated her sermon during International Women's Month, where she discussed Mary, Jesus's mother. Pastor Amy highlighted how Mary, like many women, was overlooked and not taken seriously in her time.

This reminded me of how my own mother was sometimes treated, and even how I have, at times, overlooked women. I'm working on flushing out those biases and disrespect that I think I might have grown up with in a more patriarchal environment. It would be wonderful if respecting women was the default, rather than something they have to work extra hard to earn, unlike some men who automatically receive privilege and entitlement.

I commend the Short North Church and Pastor Amy for espousing an empowering and progressive version of Christianity. I'm seeing more and more churches in Columbus that are accepting of queer people, and it's wonderful to see that becoming normalized. It's easy to forget that not long ago, the church was often seen as an enemy of the queer community. While some extreme religious institutions still use the Bible to spread hatred, it's heartening to see a return to humility and the true definition of God — which is… LOVE!

Finally, the First English Lutheran Church on the east side of Columbus. I've gotten to know the pastor there personally. This church was incredibly supportive last summer when I was in 'Camp Shameless,' camping with other unhoused individuals. When the city came to evict us, the volunteers from this church and other community groups were angels. They helped us move our belongings and ensured we weren't harassed. This was coming off one of the worst weeks I'd had, with my laptop and phone stolen again. Sometimes, all it takes is a box of Cinnamon Life cereal and a THC vape pen to bring bliss into an otherwise terrible and degrading experience.

The Reality of Homelessness and Community

The experience at that camp also highlighted a challenging truth: it's incredibly difficult to organize the unhoused community into a cohesive unit. This is a very transient population, and unfortunately, the cliche is often true – many unhoused folks are not interested in working together.

When you reach a certain level of desperation and loss of hope, you just don't trust people anymore. I've been there myself, and it took me a month to get past my most recent losses. Every time it happens, it makes me hate everyone and the world. I can only imagine the toll it takes on others who are less privileged or in a more prolonged state of desperation.

Yet, somehow, after two years of losing my place in Alexandria, I still wake up most days with some hope, optimism, and gumption. It's hard sometimes, and I'm grateful for these religious organizations and the many individuals who volunteer their time to serve meals, cook, or simply be there as friends. They remind us that we're not alone. As I've said before, the hardest part of being unhoused isn't the lack of a house; it's the loneliness of being transient, of being on the streets, of not being able to trust anyone because of the constant paranoia of theft. It's the loss of faith in humanity when something terrible happens and no one is there to help.

I want to express my gratitude to so many of you who have truly stepped up to help me, both when Crimson Rouge Studios was a nonprofit and more recently, when I was transparently just asking for money for food, weed, or to replace stolen items.

This isn't to shame anyone who hasn't given me money; I know many of you, even those who appear to be in comfortable middle-class cocoons, are also struggling. I appreciate everything you've done, and even if you haven't given me a dime, just continuing to be my friend and believing in me means the world.

To still be regarded as an intelligent human being, not just a homeless person, is important. I've noticed that as soon as I tell someone I'm homeless, their perception of me changes dramatically, much like when I was declared bipolar. It's as if a label or affliction suddenly diminishes the respect people have for you, and how seriously your voice is taken.

But my voice has never disappeared. If anything, I hope it carries more weight now. I know what it's like for people on the streets; I understand their struggle. If I'm ever in a position to galvanize people for a meaningful cause, like running for public office, I feel this experience has given me 'street cred' – literally. I walk these streets of Columbus with my head held high; I know the people who walk them with me every day, and I feel comfortable here.

It's funny when friends say goodbye to me, there's often a slight worry, an unease, as if I'm being thrust back into dangerous streets. But I truly believe people like me are helping keep the streets safe. When everyday, kind people are comfortable walking these streets and 'owning' their neighborhoods, it makes cities like Columbus safer. You don't make a neighborhood safer just by calling the police and being a 'Karen.' We make our cities ours by walking the streets, saying hello to neighbors, being kind, but also standing up for ourselves and not letting thieves and criminals take over. I take a little credit for helping keep these streets safe. You've heard me talk about Wanda, my car, as a symbol of reclaiming our streets from cars that treat them as racetracks. You all are part of the solution to making our communities great again.

Moving Forward with Resilience

"I've spent the last month seething in anger about losing almost everything on my birthday, but I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of screaming and crying into a void. I'm thankful that I can smile at the end of all this and say that I remain the same Mike George, only stronger and more confident. That confidence comes from knowing I can survive anything: being broke, unhoused, and having nothing for two years. I'm proud of that. Yes, it sucks to have lost precious things, but I'll get them back, and I'll know better next time.

I'll close with a quote that has become a bit of a cliché for me, but it's one of my favorites from Disney's Mulan: 'The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.' As we enter the peak of spring, remember where those flowers in your heart are that are ready to bloom. And even more importantly, remember that not every flower in adversity blooms; some die. Part of my responsibility as an unhoused comrade is to tell those stories and ensure they don't die.

I want to be a sincere advocate for those on the streets and part of the solution to this crisis we're seeing in our cities. I've been through it long enough to understand the systemic reasons why people become and often stay unhoused. The solution starts with me, but once I climb out of this hole, I'll be better equipped to help others climb out too.

Hold on, y'all. Things are going to get good!

This experience has to be worth it. I'm not going to have gone through two years of this without something positive coming out of it. It's definitely going on my resume, or maybe even in a book. I want to survive this to tell my story, and more importantly, to be a vessel for others to share their stories, including those who didn't make it. They say history is written by the victors, and I want to write the real parts of that history that perhaps didn't get to be told by the survivors.

So with that parting message, I hope you're all doing well. Live your best life and live in the reality of the moment. Don't let the dumpster fire on the news bring you down. Remember that for every dumpster fire you see on television, there are 99+ little joys happening all around you: people doing good things for each other, little kindnesses, laughable and lovable moments you probably didn't even notice while staring at the dumpster fire.

Remember those 99 joys are out there, and make sure to grasp them.