‘I Gave Up Everything to Get Sober… and Ended Up Homeless.’
Francine’s story begins with a decision that should have been celebrated: she chose to save her life. She walked away from her home, her possessions, and the people and places tied to her addiction. She entered recovery. She did the work. She stayed sober. For two years, she has remained clean — no relapses, no setbacks, no missteps.
By every measure we use to evaluate “success,” Francine has succeeded.
So why is she homeless?
Francine has been living in a motel room paid for by the county. The room has roaches. The ceiling leaks. There is no kitchen to cook in. It is not a home — it is a temporary holding pattern. The county spends $1,875 a month on that motel room, more than the cost of many modest apartments in the same region of New Jersey where she is.
Francine wants to work. She wants to move forward. She wants to reunite with her daughter. But if she gets a job, she will lose the motel. If she loses the motel, she will have nowhere to go. The system has left her with a terrible, impossible choice: Stay homeless or try to get out and lose everything all over again.
This is not failure on Francine’s part. This is a failure of policy design.
Across the United States, motel shelter programs are used as temporary stopgaps in place of real housing. They are framed as emergency solutions, but for many people — especially parents — they become long-term traps:
- There is no path to permanent housing
- There is no case management or support plan
- And any progress can put the little stability someone has at risk
In Francine’s case, simply trying to work — simply trying to get better — is penalized.
This is the opposite of what recovery should look like.
People leaving addiction treatment need:
- Safe, stable housing
- Family reunification support
- Income opportunities that don’t end their shelter
- A system designed to transition them into independence, not freeze them in place
Francine’s dream is simple: a small apartment, a job, and her daughter. A place to cook. A door that locks. A life where sobriety can be lived, not just endured.
She has done her part.
Now the system must do its part, too.
If we want fewer people to remain homeless, we must build pathways, not obstacles to housing. Because when someone fights to get their life back, the system should not push them right back to the edge.
Francine deserves a home. Every one of us deserves the chance to rebuild.
