Terris Harned, 32, is from Portland, Oregon, and he could be mistaken for someone who lives inside. He's educated and eloquent. He's not addicted to any drugs or alcohol. He doesn't smell, nor are his clothes dirty or ratty. He has a long-term goal for his future. In other words, he doesn't have any qualities of, what most middle or upper-class people would consider, the stereotypical "homeless person," yet he has been sleeping outside, off and on, for the past eight years.
He began to sleep outside, he says, "after moving to Illinois with a gal, and six days later we broke up. That was my first experience with homelessness." While this might seem like a trite reason to give up on finding a place to stay, Terris' relational difficulties actually began much earlier in life. His parents got divorced when he was eighteen months old, and when each parent got re-married and had more children, he began to be tossed around between parents. "After my siblings started to come along, I never felt like I was part of any family. I always felt like I was the third wheel on both sides... just 'that guy' that was thrown around." His father invited Terris to come stay with him "because he told me he couldn't afford to pay child support, as opposed to 'I love you. I want you around.'" This back-and-forth between parents was common for Terris until, at age seventeen, his mother died unexpectedly from three brain tumors and lung cancer. He was staying with his mother when she died and "it was like having the rug pulled out from under me... she was undergoing radiation and chemotherapy at the same time and I had to watch my mom waste away right in front of me." After her death, Terris' bi-polar tendencies came out in earnest. He became completely despondent and began to use pot to numb the emotional pain he was feeling. While Terris did quit smoking after a couple years, he understands why people living on the streets would use drugs and alcohol. "They just don't want to feel anything anymore. Since all they feel is pain, they're trying to anaesthetize their soul in a lot of ways."
He currently sells and occasionally writes for Street Roots, a paper sold predominantly by the homeless in Portland. "[Street Roots] is called non-barrier employment, which means anyone can walk through the door. The sellers go through orientation, then Street Roots gives them ten papers to get them started." The papers are priced at one dollar, but many people will donate five, ten or even twenty dollars per paper. The papers are produced for a quarter a piece, so the seller buys the initial load of papers and keeps whatever profits they get. "It's kind of like being a... private contractor. You have a lot of liberty as far as choosing your hours, your location, and whatever else." For him and for others who are homeless, Terris says, Street Roots helps people maintain a sense of dignity and self-respect. Instead of simply panhandling for money, "you're offering something and not just asking for handouts."
One community outreach that's helped him realize his self-worth is Home PDX and Ken Loyd, the man behind Home PDX. Terris explains how Ken Loyd never says goodbye to anyone, he says 'I love you.' "If you hear that enough, you start to believe it. If someone else believes that you're worthy of love, you think maybe I should start loving myself.... If you just say to someone you're a good person as you are, then it makes you want to start doing more for yourself, as opposed to doing it for someone else. You try and please other people, you feel like you're living up to an expectation, but if you do it for yourself, you only have to live up to the expectation you set for yourself."
Currently, Terris' plan is to start renting out a room from a friend by the end of April and he's hoping to go to school for psychology and eco-psychology, but his ultimate long-term goal is to open up a holistic drug/alcohol rehab center. He says, "People living inside say that homeless people need to stop abusing themselves, but they never ask why they started." Terris wants to talk with people, ask them why they have their problems, get down to the root of their issues, and then provide them with the tools to help themselves out of their ruts. He admits, "Even for myself, I lack a lot of coping mechanisms, I lack a lot of tools." He recently got approved by the state of Oregon to receive therapy for his bi-polar disorder, something which he admits he needs. For his rehab center, however, he wants to move the homeless away from the city and its temptations. He wants to have an organic farm in the wilderness with his program, so the people can "work the soil and, within the course of a year, plant, tend, and harvest their crop and, at the end of the cycle, they would be eating what they helped produce. That's going to instill a sense of self-confidence and accomplishment, and the ability to say, 'Wow, I did that.'" Like with Home PDX, Terris wants to build a sense of community with a group of people who desire the same goals, which are to get clean and to get out of their current lifestyle. He cautions that he won't try and force anyone to stay in the program. In theory, he says, "I would ask for a month from people, have them talk to me, and then give them a choice: you can stay or you can go back to what you were doing, but... I think you're better than that. You're a valuable person."
In the meantime, Terris is going to work towards his long-term goals and continue his current homeless advocacy. For most people sleeping on the streets, the concept of long or short-term "goals" is foreign. Sleeping outside for long periods of time produces what Terris calls a "social lobotomy," in which you stop thinking about the future because you're only thinking of today. The most common needs for the homeless and those experiencing poverty are a sense of love and purpose. Living on the street, he says, "you can eat, theoretically you can sleep... it's the social needs that aren't being met." He recommends that the next time one passes a homeless person, whether they're just looking depressed or even drinking, "... just stop and talk to them. Don't be afraid of them. You can acknowledge that person as a person experiencing poverty, as opposed to thinking of them as 'just' a poor person or homeless or an addict. Just stop and say, 'What's your story, man?' Just by giving them a little bit of attention, giving them that sense of... someone wants to know," as opposed to shying away and hiding from them. He promises, "You will make their day."
He began to sleep outside, he says, "after moving to Illinois with a gal, and six days later we broke up. That was my first experience with homelessness." While this might seem like a trite reason to give up on finding a place to stay, Terris' relational difficulties actually began much earlier in life. His parents got divorced when he was eighteen months old, and when each parent got re-married and had more children, he began to be tossed around between parents. "After my siblings started to come along, I never felt like I was part of any family. I always felt like I was the third wheel on both sides... just 'that guy' that was thrown around." His father invited Terris to come stay with him "because he told me he couldn't afford to pay child support, as opposed to 'I love you. I want you around.'" This back-and-forth between parents was common for Terris until, at age seventeen, his mother died unexpectedly from three brain tumors and lung cancer. He was staying with his mother when she died and "it was like having the rug pulled out from under me... she was undergoing radiation and chemotherapy at the same time and I had to watch my mom waste away right in front of me." After her death, Terris' bi-polar tendencies came out in earnest. He became completely despondent and began to use pot to numb the emotional pain he was feeling. While Terris did quit smoking after a couple years, he understands why people living on the streets would use drugs and alcohol. "They just don't want to feel anything anymore. Since all they feel is pain, they're trying to anaesthetize their soul in a lot of ways."
He currently sells and occasionally writes for Street Roots, a paper sold predominantly by the homeless in Portland. "[Street Roots] is called non-barrier employment, which means anyone can walk through the door. The sellers go through orientation, then Street Roots gives them ten papers to get them started." The papers are priced at one dollar, but many people will donate five, ten or even twenty dollars per paper. The papers are produced for a quarter a piece, so the seller buys the initial load of papers and keeps whatever profits they get. "It's kind of like being a... private contractor. You have a lot of liberty as far as choosing your hours, your location, and whatever else." For him and for others who are homeless, Terris says, Street Roots helps people maintain a sense of dignity and self-respect. Instead of simply panhandling for money, "you're offering something and not just asking for handouts."
One community outreach that's helped him realize his self-worth is Home PDX and Ken Loyd, the man behind Home PDX. Terris explains how Ken Loyd never says goodbye to anyone, he says 'I love you.' "If you hear that enough, you start to believe it. If someone else believes that you're worthy of love, you think maybe I should start loving myself.... If you just say to someone you're a good person as you are, then it makes you want to start doing more for yourself, as opposed to doing it for someone else. You try and please other people, you feel like you're living up to an expectation, but if you do it for yourself, you only have to live up to the expectation you set for yourself."
Currently, Terris' plan is to start renting out a room from a friend by the end of April and he's hoping to go to school for psychology and eco-psychology, but his ultimate long-term goal is to open up a holistic drug/alcohol rehab center. He says, "People living inside say that homeless people need to stop abusing themselves, but they never ask why they started." Terris wants to talk with people, ask them why they have their problems, get down to the root of their issues, and then provide them with the tools to help themselves out of their ruts. He admits, "Even for myself, I lack a lot of coping mechanisms, I lack a lot of tools." He recently got approved by the state of Oregon to receive therapy for his bi-polar disorder, something which he admits he needs. For his rehab center, however, he wants to move the homeless away from the city and its temptations. He wants to have an organic farm in the wilderness with his program, so the people can "work the soil and, within the course of a year, plant, tend, and harvest their crop and, at the end of the cycle, they would be eating what they helped produce. That's going to instill a sense of self-confidence and accomplishment, and the ability to say, 'Wow, I did that.'" Like with Home PDX, Terris wants to build a sense of community with a group of people who desire the same goals, which are to get clean and to get out of their current lifestyle. He cautions that he won't try and force anyone to stay in the program. In theory, he says, "I would ask for a month from people, have them talk to me, and then give them a choice: you can stay or you can go back to what you were doing, but... I think you're better than that. You're a valuable person."
In the meantime, Terris is going to work towards his long-term goals and continue his current homeless advocacy. For most people sleeping on the streets, the concept of long or short-term "goals" is foreign. Sleeping outside for long periods of time produces what Terris calls a "social lobotomy," in which you stop thinking about the future because you're only thinking of today. The most common needs for the homeless and those experiencing poverty are a sense of love and purpose. Living on the street, he says, "you can eat, theoretically you can sleep... it's the social needs that aren't being met." He recommends that the next time one passes a homeless person, whether they're just looking depressed or even drinking, "... just stop and talk to them. Don't be afraid of them. You can acknowledge that person as a person experiencing poverty, as opposed to thinking of them as 'just' a poor person or homeless or an addict. Just stop and say, 'What's your story, man?' Just by giving them a little bit of attention, giving them that sense of... someone wants to know," as opposed to shying away and hiding from them. He promises, "You will make their day."
