I lived in a homeless shelter for a couple of years in my mid-20s. They had both bunk-filled dorms for women staying overnight and also a few long-term single rooms that they would rent out. I was able to get one of the rooms and the rent was very low because of me being on disability.
I had stable, guaranteed housing and meals. I had shelter workers who helped me get my shit together. They kept me on a schedule, daily and weekly obligations. Having a schedule helped immensely with my mental health. I had a social worker, bless her heart, she would drive me around town to do shit like replace lost ID, fill out things for the disability office, go shopping for clothes to replace my ratty, hole-ridden clothing.
And I fucked it up in an instant one day.
I almost never get actually angry. Like, really, *truly* angry. I'm pretty chill overall. But when I snap, I *lose it*.
One of the women staying in the shelter kept breaking rules and not suffering any consequences. One day it was just... it kept making me madder and madder. I bitched at the shelter workers, it got a little heated. I was getting louder. It was just a self-sustaining cycle of rage building. I snapped and started throwing shit around--chairs, books, papers. I got one warning from staff to cut it out and I just couldn't stop. Blind anger.
I was told I had to leave within 24H.
Massive, massive regret. Wish I could undo it.