It was the perfect storm of financial devastation. Divorce, the world economic meltdown and a depressed housing market. I lost my home, my business and found myself homeless.
It was not the journey I expected to take.
My husband and I owned a 5-acre estate. Then, in 2006, our 20-year marriage ended. He left, taking our savings and retirement with him. I managed to keep the house for awhile by working a couple of jobs and renting out rooms. My design business was growing and I had new opportunities overseas. I traveled to Italy, Canada and China to work with Fortune 500 companies. I had solid investments that were due to pay off. Life was good.
Then, in the winter of 2008, I returned from China to find a record snowfall in Colorado had caved in the roof of my back porch. It was an omen of more collapses to come: Gas prices were skyrocketing, the American public was panicking and consumers began to cut back on everything but necessities. Banks started to fail because of their debatable business practices. The businesses I worked for found it impossible to get loans to finance growth. Startup companies couldn’t get money to operate.
My business foundation crumbled as my clients went out of business. The bear market claimed my investments. I was unable to find work at a time when large companies were laying off and consumer-driven businesses were implementing hiring freezes.
I lost my renters when their income dried up. I reluctantly tossed my home onto the funeral pyre of a dying housing market. Before my savings ran dry, I unloaded the property for $200,000 less than it was worth to keep from defaulting on the loan. A lifetime of hard work had been reduced to what I could fit in a small storage unit and my car.
Then the reality of my situation set in. I didn’t have a job or anywhere to go.
My British boyfriend convinced me to go England. Three months later, I returned to the states for my brother’s wedding. But when I tried to return to England for the rest of my six-month visa, I was pulled aside by Customs, interrogated, photographed, fingerprinted and thrown back on a U.S.-bound plane. I was not given any valid reason to be denied entry or given an opportunity to appeal. And I had more urgent things to do than take the time to find out, if I even could. I needed a job.
I spent a few weeks with relatives and visited employment agencies. I searched for any kind of work without results. Not wanting to burden struggling relatives further, I went to my storage unit, got my camping gear and clothes, took what money I had left and went to California.
Over the past year, I have moved so many times I’ve lost count. Living out of suitcases, never having a place to sleep. I’ve done every odd job I could find to pay for gas and food. I applied for every job available and even ones that didn’t exist.
I once believed all homeless people were socially dysfunctional or mentally ill. The reality is most homeless people have just had some bad luck.
Soon, without a telephone or an address, I simply didn’t exist. I couldn’t open a bank account, apply for a job, or cash a check. Public assistance wasn’t available and homeless shelters were full. At nearly 50 years old, I had no job, no home, no retirement, and no future.
Then, a lifeline. I went to a cyber cafe to check my e-mail and saw one from a man I met on the plane when I was kicked out of England. He offered me work, helping him create a website and re-edit video footage.
Instantly my determination was back. I called in a few markers and had my website reinstated. I also met many newly homeless creative professionals who were unable to qualify for public assistance and needed to work. A creative co-op was formed.
We are determined to work again and help surviving businesses by offering effective advertising and promotional services for a fraction of what the big agencies charge. I won’t get rich, but that’s OK. I can afford a prepaid cellphone now, so I can communicate with clients and family. No home yet, but I’m not giving up the hope.
There are so many of us who just want to be productive again. I’m working and trying to get myself back on my feet. If I can help others do the same, then my life has meaning.
Contact Julie Gordon at julie@creative-biz.net.
