Homeless for years, Moncton woman finds help at shelter with next phase of her life

Ashley Perry isn't sure where she would be without Sue MacDonnell.

After a decade of chronic homelessness — mostly living in a tent or sleeping in a bunk bed at Moncton's Harvest House emergency shelter — Perry credits MacDonnell with finally helping her to get on "the right path."

"Sue's actually like a mother figure to me," Perry said. "She's been there for me through a lot of things."

The two women teamed up about a year ago, when MacDonnell became a full-time caseworker dedicated to helping every person at the shelter come up with a plan to find a permanent home.

"It can be easy to feel like there's no housing, so what's the point?" MacDonnell said. "But when you're identifying goals and that next task, and you're doing it, that makes the difference. Casework is not doing it for the guest, it's accompanying them on the journey."

Harvest House executive director Cal Maskery said the decision to change the approach of the emergency shelter was made just before the pandemic began.

Maskery had become discouraged. When he looked at the 45 people who were sleeping in the dorms every night, he estimated fewer than a quarter of them had any hope of "moving on in a productive way."

He feared they had become "stuck" at the shelter.

"The ones that are coming back month after month after month and not gaining … you're not really an emergency shelter anymore — they're residents."

Shelter life not a good life

Perry, 34, was one of those people who had become stuck in a life of chronic homelessness.

Once you get into street life you can get stuck there. You start making friends that are using … we've had people that didn't use until they came to shelter and that's sad.- Cal Maskery, Harvest House

She said it was the death of her grandmother, health problems and her children being taken away that led her to a psychological breakdown when she was in her late 20s.

"It was just kind of like my mind cracked, and I couldn't even barely look after myself at that point."

When she was introduced to the shelter, and the streets, she was also introduced to drugs.

"I had never been on drugs or anything before I went there, and everybody seemed to be high or detoxing or something. And it was a whole new world to me." 

At first Perry was "terrified" by shelter life, but she eventually got to be friends with people who were using drugs, tried crack cocaine herself, then moved on to methamphetamine.

Maskery said stories like Perry's are heartbreaking, and part of the reason he knew Harvest House had to try a new approach.

"Once you get into street life you can get stuck there," he said. "You start making friends that are using … we've had people that didn't use until they came to shelter and that's sad."

Shelters 'perpetuating chronic homelessness'

Shelter directors across Canada have come to the same conclusion as Maskery in recent years, and the move toward "housing-focused" shelters has grown.

On the other side of the country, Sandra Clarkson, executive director of the 1,000-bed Calgary Drop-In Centre, knew it was time to make big changes at her shelter.

"We looked at it through a critical lens and thought, we're actually perpetuating chronic homelessness here."

Clarkson said shelters that provide a bed, food and clothing are well-intentioned, but expecting people who are experiencing homelessness to find permanent housing without any interventions is simply not realistic.

"People's experience with homelessness should be short in duration and ideally one time only."

Case managers, housing specialists and shelter workers all began to change the culture of the Calgary shelter by "planting the seeds of housing," she said.

"The expectation is you're going to get housed. This is just a temporary layover."

Clarkson said there were some growing pains as staff refocused their efforts on housing plans.

Other programs, such as a library, were cut because they created a sense of community. Clarkson explained shelters shouldn't be seen as long-term places to live, and people should be encouraged to find community outside the shelter walls.

Ending the 'dance of the shelter'

In Montreal, James Hughes, president and CEO of the Old Brewery Mission, began the "transformation" from emergency-based shelter to housing-based shelter in the early 2000s.

"In the day, guests were invited to leave, try to go find a job, try to go find housing — good luck. And if you don't succeed come on back in the evening and we'll provide you with these services again," he said.

"This was the dance of the shelter, where people in homelessness would come back and forth every night and fall into a form of chronic homelessness."

Hughes says when they got into the business of case management, they too saw a change.

"They're not in the shelter because they could have done it themselves. They need to be accompanied on that journey out."

New approach restores hope

In the past year, MacDonnell has seen a big difference in the atmosphere at Harvest House, and she credits the housing plans that every single guest now has, and the hope that comes with that plan.

"When there's productivity in your day, when there's goals that you're making steps toward, and lots of positives for any little step forward — that's engaging and that's giving hope which is often what's absent."

Maskery and MacDonnell say calls to police have dropped dramatically and there is less "chaos" at the shelter on a daily basis as guests can now see a way out.

"People who are stuck see their friends moving through and … getting a life for themselves — they get working or school or they're in a recovery program. It just shows them there's life beyond the streets," said Maskery.

In Moncton, Harvest House is one of two emergency shelters. The House of Nazereth operates a shelter on Albert Street which is about twice as large with 100 beds.

Maskery has stopped referring to Harvest House as a shelter, and now calls it "ground zero." He said that's the first indication to guests that they have made a change, and that it's the beginning of a journey rather than a destination.

"If they want to move forward, they'll stay on with us. If they don't want to do anything and they just want to stay where they're at, we encourage them to avail themselves of the other shelter. We say, 'That's just a shelter if that's what you want.'"

'I want to get my kids back'

Perry has now been sober for nearly a month and checked in on Feb. 1 to Harvest House's new women's recovery home, where she can stay for up to a year.

She continues to work with MacDonnell, who has supported her the entire time, as she tries to reach the goals she's set.

"I want to get my kids back. I want my children in my life more often than they are now. I want to be able to say that I worked my butt off, and I finally am in a place that I can have my children and be the mom that I should be."

For MacDonnell, telling Perry she had a new home at the recovery centre was a moment she will always remember.

"To see somebody come from maybe not wanting to meet your eye — just building that relationship … and then you get to be proud with somebody and that's the goosebump moment. It's not about what I did, it's about where the guest has come."

Of the 391 individuals who used the emergency shelter last year, 52 have moved into a permanent home, 12 were diverted and another 20 have been admitted into a long-term recovery programs.

It may only represent 21 per cent of their guests, but MacDonnell said the number feels larger.

"It all goes together to mean that people are looking forward, people are feeling supported," she said. "There's still challenges, but if we all continue to lift each other up as a collective community, I think that's going to be the answer."