Loud Mouth Brown Girl

So I took this photo two years ago, on May 16th, 2023. I was unhoused, living in a hotel in Surrey, British Columbia. This was the prettiest spot I could find.

I wanted to take a photo of myself, grounding myself. I wanted to remember that moment because I knew that things were going to turn out okay, but I was also terrified. So I deliberately forced myself to take a photo, so that I could remember how bad it was.

But also so I could remember that as dark and as scary as that time was, I still had hope that things were going to get better. Right before we found out we got this apartment, I said “Okay God, your turn.” Then Nada Chehade called me, and then the apartment building manager.

It was a whirlwind experience that I both do, and do not, wish on anyone. I do not wish it, because not everyone survives being unhoused. Some people only survive.

But also, I do, because it teaches you to have more compassion, to be patient, to be more understanding, accepting, and yes even wary. There are skills you pick up when you are living in a situation not of your making, that otherwise you wouldn’t have found.

Even when I was unhoused, I kept writing. I kept sharing my story, I asked for help and I got it in spades. People donated around $1500 over three years, which in the end kept me in cannabis which in turn helped keep the anxiety, depression, fear, and misery at bay.

I know that for many of you, my experience is not your experience. I know now that many people do not escape trauma, but I don’t want you to give up. I’m not talking about suicide at this precise moment, I am talking about settling.

I could have had the world eight years ago. It was offered to me on a silver platter, but something held me back. Things would have ended up very differently if I’d said yes, instead of no, but in my heart the life that was being offered, wasn’t one I was willing to accept, because it wasn’t about me.

And for the first time in my life, eight or nine years ago, I decided to put, myself, and me first. I had to. It was the only way to mentally survive the trauma. It was the only way to prevent myself from ending my life.

I built this platform to center myself, and while some people have come and gone on this journey, it’s the ones who have stayed that mean the world to me. The ones who show me every day that they still appreciate my presence in their lives, are the ones I try to show appreciation to as well.

I was always taught “Centering yourself,” was a bad thing. Like the Tris character in Divergent, I was raised in a deeply religious environment. That experience taught me that my life was about serving God first, humans second, and myself last.

This mentality forced me for years to put my own shit aside, to pretend that what was happening wasn’t, and I had nowhere to turn. By the time everyone found out what happened to me, it was too late to go back. It was too late not to tell my story.

I don’t want you to wait until it’s too late. I don’t want you to let anyone else tell your story. It’s your story, your experience, your valid experience that deserves to be highlighted on your terms.

Some people choose not to write. They choose to paint, draw, sculpt, or burn what they see into the world. I highly encourage you to find a path, something that fits you. If you’re going to tell me you can’t afford canvas and paint, I’ll point you to the dollar store.

If you’re going to tell me that you can’t because other people might find out, I’ll point you to Anonymous.

There are ways friends, for you to center yourself in your world, ways that I probably haven’t even thought of. So if you’re at your breaking point, please reach out. Because it’s much better on this side.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall, the Original LMBG