I take the bus. A lot.
Public transportation was something CT invested in. We have several bus routes around the state. New Britain isn't different. I have a bus route near my house, with several stops on my road. I can easily get downtown and to other places through CT Fastrak or other local buses.
Brian and I have one vehicle. He works in another town and it's a forty minute drive. For obvious reasons, we cannot afford another loan for a second vehicle. Having a day pass for the local buses gets me everywhere. I have appointments on the bus routes. I do my shopping and drop in on the food pantry. I visit people using the bus, or I sometimes run to Hartford and find a quiet place to meditate and be alone.
But using the bus also brought me in contact with my community.
Growing up in New Britain, my father never allowed us to go anywhere far from home, not even going down to the gas station down the hill for a soda. My mother was equally strict. Claiming that the world was a dangerous place, they kept us cloistered, lacking the knowledge to cope and deal with society (lack of explanations did not help either). It was classist and racist.
It did not mean we stuck to the rules. We left the limits of our prison and took advantage of any lenient babysitters (my grandfather comes to mind) and the neighbors. Me and my siblings did a lot of adult activities, such as driving a car (in the parking lot) when we were eleven, twelve years old. My material grandfather was in the passenger seat, it was his car, and he did not care.
My parents also did not help matters by telling us to stay away from The Projects, the bus stops and other places associated with drugs, gangs, low income, etc. They insisted that it was for the poor people to take the bus and that it was beneath us. As a child, especially autistic, it instilled me an image of fright that stayed with me until my high school years, when I was finally out from under that thumb.
Growing up and meeting the people I did changed that attitude.
When Brian and I started taking the bus regularly, it was autumn 2021. We had no vehicle and so many obligations that we had to fulfill. I was working from home for the bank and was beginning to get really sick. Brian checked it out first before telling me how clean and comfortable it was.
That was when I began my research.
Having the courage to do something different was always something I struggled with. I like being in comfortable situations, even though they are bad. I first tried taking the bus when Calvin and I wanted to go to the downtown Halloween event. We got picked up right when the schedule online said. I watched the stops and how people asked for the bus to stop. We arrived there unscathed.
We were new, and that was obvious. People had never seen us before because we cloistered ourselves in our home and kept our heads down. I never walked the streets like my husband did either. Talking isn't second nature to me, so I was pretty damned shy talking and admitting that I knew nothing.
The experience wasn't as bad as I thought. So, I did it again, and again and again. Calvin loves it too, and every chance we can, we'll take the bus downtown and go someplace like the library or the store. But there are always people who need help - the addicts, the homeless and the dealers. I learned from Brian and my grandparents (my father's father and stepmother) to never hand out money and to give what they need.
But I gave something to my community that I did not expect: kindness.
My fear has been long gone. I have seen the worst this town has and it does not scare me. I don't know if it's because of what I experienced, or if it's the neurodivergency, something else or all of it. But I don't see it as dangerous, even though it is. I see it as society's failings, and kindness never hurt anyone.
I used to hand out sandwiches and water (not recently because I've been horribly fatigued). When I can, I donate to the Friendship Center. Sometimes, I would ask what people want, or if it's ok if I said something. Some people want an ear so they can vent. Others want a hug. Or, seeing someone smiling brightens their day.
Little by little, I built my community.
I am well protected and know my way around town on foot, thank you very much. I am not crazy or delusional. I am able to determine which person I can go to, why someone is on the bus, who to watch out for or who's on the street. I have places I can go to in case of an emergency. Even when I get tired, I can sit with somebody at a convenience store, or have a chat with my homeless friend, J.
Being chronically ill does not prevent you from being kind. Acceptance of it makes you kinder to others. I have all of this love inside of me, enough for myself and others. I was abused growing up, so I know what it's like to be kicked, especially when you're down. New Britain residents are no different. They're struggling. Nearly all of them suffered trauma like I did.
It makes me feel like I am not alone.
Within your limits, you can help others. Sometimes, a simple word can make a person's day. It might be all they hold onto it for a while. You don't need to give them any money. Yes, it's irritating, but what would you do in their position? You are closer to being on the streets than in a mansion by the reservoir.
Namaste, everyone. Have a wonderful weekend!
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