Adapted from my Facebook post of July 23, 2026. The descriptions of local shelter options reflect my understanding at the time.

The original graphic accompanying this Facebook post.

I am not a felon.

I am not wanted (only loved and hated).

I am not fleeing (the law or violence).

I have a birth certificate (raised seal … it’s the real deal).

I have a valid ID (not a driver’s license … that’s me).

I have a high school diploma (well … a G.E.D.).

I have the support of my family …

I am grateful.

I am thankful.

I am lucky.

Even here, I’m one of the lucky ones

As I understood it when I wrote this, the options for someone experiencing homelessness in Chico were painfully limited. There were the shelters … searches, restrictions, no visitors, no substances, no violence, and curfews. There was the pallet shelter … with its own rules and restrictions. There was the alternate campsite … again with rules and a curfew. And finally, there was camping outside those authorized places, with the possibility of enforcement.

For some people, it seemed that being outside was also part of the path they had to navigate to get into another program.

Here in the shelter … we are the lucky ones.

We have:

• Three meals a day (yummy)
• Hot showers
• Air conditioning
• Clean sheets
• Laundry
• Support
• Companionship
• Encouragement

Many here are completely alone in the world. And maybe they have one barrier … or two … that keeps them from succeeding and breaking free from this place, or from the system that defines them by what they’ve done instead of who they are.

People are judged by how many years they worked … or didn’t work. Whether they went to jail. And if they did, whether violence was involved. So much attention goes to a person’s history, without nearly enough attention to their individual circumstances and what would actually help them now.

To me, the whole system feels rigged. The system itself can be violent in the ways it limits choices and keeps people moving between one inadequate option and another.

Forgotten

Compared to many of my peers in this situation, I am very blessed to be where I am. I’m grateful that I still have a positive outlook … and I’m going to live a life of gratitude, not regret and despair.

Even this dirty-feet-smelling hellhole is paradise … compared to what many others are living through.

So many people I’ve met at the cooling center or the alternate campsite have barriers between them and housing. And many simply cannot complete all the steps they’re expected to take to change their circumstances without more help.

All of them are in the system.

Some have been in the system their whole lives … since they were children. Now they’ve grown up, and they no longer fit into the programs available, or cannot fall in line with every requirement. So they risk being pushed out of the very services they desperately need.

The people living down here have been forgotten …

Forgotten by their families.

Forgotten by their friends.

Forgotten by their communities.

All because they would not … or could not … change.

I am lucky.

But what about everyone else?

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This account describes what I experienced and believed in July 2026. It is not intended as an exhaustive or current guide to Chico shelter eligibility and policies.

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My homelessness journey … chapter 5 of 17

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