Bridget and Ed Robertson were a normal a middle-class couple from greater Phoenix, Arizona. Then, within just weeks of each other they were both laid off from jobs they'd had for years. Neither could get anything new despite hundreds of applications. They couldn't make their car payments or pay their rent. Soon, they found themselves homeless.
The Robertsons and their daughter, Sarah, moved into a small shelter apartment supplied by a local community service organization, Save the Family Arizona, which kept them from going on the street. The apartment was too small for most of their belongings, which now sit in a 12- by 25-foot storage unit. To make matters worse, Ed had a stroke in July, flooding the family with debt, and Bridget's father passed away recently, compounding the Robertsons' stress and anxiety.
Something often overlooked about homelessness is how embarrassing it can be, how it hurts people's dignity. The Robertsons tell Karina Bland of the Arizona Republic about the shame and guilt that comes from waiting in line at the food bank, Sarah's fear that other kids at her school will find out where she lives, how she now has to stay close to home when playing because of the lack of safety of their new neighborhood. These are emotional battles that are as real as the physical problems.
"I miss feeling like a man," Ed says, choking back a sob. When he used to come home on Friday nights with a paycheck in his pocket, he felt like he was providing for his family. He'd have the guys over, and they'd sit around in the garage, talking and drinking cold beer.
"When you're getting unemployment, and things are being given to you, you're not earning it," he says. "I'm grateful, but I'm not earning it."
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