like any normal day, i recently went downstairs in my three-story walkup to pick up a few items at the grocery store. it was a day off, so my mood was light, but it plunged when i saw that, once again, people had taken up residence between the two entry doors to the building. i went to open the door to ask them to clear a path for me and was met with: “hey man! what do you think you’re doing?”
“you guys can’t block the entrance,” i told them calmly. “someone is going to call the cops. i’m not going to call them, but someone will.”
“just give me a minute man!” the voice boomed back at me as he gathered his drug paraphernalia. i understand they need shelter, but it always bothers me when people see my home as a place to use drugs.
careful not to step on needles or pipes, i pushed the door open a little further and walked through the mess to the outside. one of the people in the vestibule thanked me and then as i left, the first one came out to scream at me. he threatened violence in graphic terms, and i simply kept walking. a half hour later when i returned, they were gone.
in canada, in 2021, there were
235,000 homeless people. drug overdose deaths from that population averaged between 2.7 and 4.7 deaths per day. no one knows how many died among the homeless population in total. what concerns me the most is that approximately 85 per cent of homeless people are either on the verge of, or full-on suffering from, mental illness. the
drug use and addictions we see are in many cases due to people going through the hell of untreated mental illness and traumas in their past few can comprehend.