My Journey into Housing Ran Through Addiction and Mental Illness
by Jason Turner
Special Contributor, Stewpot Writers’ Workshop
I remember being very young when I first noticed my dad, sisters, and I were Black, but our mother was white. It was weird because we always had to tell people she was our mother. They couldn’t put it together. And the fact my mother is white, and my father is Black affected my speech. I didn’t speak like other Black kids. As I got older, these minor problems faded away and our relationship grew stronger.
We grew up well-off in The Woodlands near Houston. I learned to swim, joined the Cub Scouts, achieved my Arrow of Light, and went on to the higher ranks of the Boy Scouts of America. When I was 14 or 15, I was blessed to take a trip to Europe with the Boy Scouts that opened my mind. Thanks to Faith United Methodist Church and Mr. Mike Collins, our father-figure, mentor, and Scoutmaster, we went to France, Luxembourg, Germany, Belgium, and London.
Jason Turner photo by James Varas.
Battling drugs and addiction
Ever since early grades, I did well and loved to read and play video games. High school, though, was a tough time. I felt out of place in every social hierarchy. I was into doing the wrong thing and had a knack for choosing the wrong crowd. I rebelled and started a heavy addiction.
Sadly, I never became an Eagle Scout. I had done all the work and had earned the difficult merit badges. Right before my last major project, I was arrested for using marijuana that belonged to a high school sweetheart. I took the blame for her.
I discovered the drugs and friends were all fake, but I kept going through battles with addiction. I quit high school and got a job and my first apartment. Yet I kept selling drugs until my parents lovingly sent me to a community college and then a vocational school to learn dental assistance. I became a dental assistant for about two years but kept battling my drug addiction and lost my second apartment, another group of friends, and a close girlfriend. I foresaw a life of homelessness and attempted suicide.
I'll never forget leaving the hospital at 22. I had nowhere to go, and no one would talk to me. The next option was a Salvation Army rehabilitation program in Houston. After many messed-up diagnoses for my mental health and a predisposed addiction from my birth parents, my family and I found the Star of Hope in Houston. My mother still has on her wall a certificate I earned at one Star of Hope program.
I ended up holding various jobs, including working on a Houston mayor’s reelection campaign (we won!) and repaving concrete on a 74-story building’s roof. The view was great.
“Sadly, I never became an Eagle Scout. I had done all the work and had earned the difficult merit badges. Right before my last major project, I was arrested for using marijuana that belonged to a high school sweetheart. I took the blame for her.”
Finding my way to Dallas
Eventually, I moved to San Antonio, where I finally was diagnosed for manic depression. After four years there, I got on a Greyhound bus and just rode to get away from the voices in my head. I had begun hearing voices due to heavy drug use and a predisposition from my birth father who was schizophrenic. Something told me to give Dallas a try.
I hid for four months under a bridge in Dallas and then a homeless outreach team from the city took me to Metrocare Services. There, I gained a new diagnosis of Psychosis 1 with psychotic features.
I mustered up enough strength to try out the local shelter, which is how I found The Bridge. I wish I had found it years earlier. The Bridge is the best shelter for mental health services I've ever seen. The treatment is on site and the staff work individually with treatment plans for each person's needs.
Jason Turner Illustration by David Yisrael.
Finding housing
My counselor at The Bridge decided that a permanent supportive housing voucher would be the most suitable. Having had counselors in other cities, I couldn't believe someone would move for me like that. But I soon received a note on my bed at The Bridge saying that my name had come up for permanent housing.
Within a month, a City Square counselor found me a great place in a nice area. He had been homeless, so he had a sense of the urgency as well as the quality needed for a transition. I didn't want to make the same desperate mistake I made in San Antonio with housing and end up somewhere I could not thrive.
Permanent supportive housing is what I need considering my psychosis. This is the most in-depth, attention for services I've ever received. People actually listen to me. Psychosis is extremely tough to experience. I have three separate voices constantly cross chattering. Audio hallucinations can change the words you hear, even to songs that I've known forever. The main point is I know it's all in my head and I'm taking the right medicine.
I'm also in activities that ease my Psychosis 1 like the Dallas Street Choir and The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop. I panhandle for extra change and always return to The Bridge for outpatient recovery classes. I've been in Dallas two years and in my apartment since July 2023. I have long-, mid- and short-term treatment plans, meet with two counselors, and am working on getting disability benefits for mental health care.
I have had about five jobs over the last year, but it's the same old thing. I am bipolar so I have highs and lows. I'll be super energetic and progressive one week and can't get out of bed with any desire the next. The voices in my head make reality hard to decipher so that is where I stand now.
My journey has been long and isn't close to being over. I hope to return to school and finish. My family and I get along much better now that the truth behind my addiction and mental health has been accurately identified. They can rest easy knowing I'm in an apartment and am no longer on the streets or in shelters. We talk often and I try to visit when I can.
I feel like I found my home in Dallas, a place where I was compelled by God to come. Dallas turned out to have the infrastructure and foundation I needed to start my life over. I am 36, psychotic, educated, well-traveled, and tired of being on the streets and in shelters. I am blessed, grateful, and ready for a new chapter.
Jason Turner is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
