“Unhoused but Not Unworthy”: Maryann’s Story of Survival, Stigma, and Strength

Across New Hampshire and the United States, the housing crisis is leaving hardworking individuals like Maryann without a place to call home. This is not just about rising rents or limited affordable housing—it’s about the invisible Americans who fall through the cracks despite doing everything “right.” Maryann’s story is a powerful reminder that housing insecurity can happen to anyone, and that survival takes more than just shelter—it takes strength, dignity, and hope.

When Hard Work Isn’t Enough to Keep a Roof Over Your Head

Maryann worked two jobs. She wasn’t unemployed or reckless with money. She was doing what most of us do—trying to make ends meet.

For the first two years, she managed. Her job as a bill collector paid well, and she kept up with her rent, even when it increased from $1,350 to $1,500. But when chronic stress caused a painful ulcer, she had to leave that job to heal. Then COVID-19 hit, and with it came reduced hours and low-wage jobs that couldn’t keep pace with the ballooning cost of rent—which eventually rose to $2,100 per month.

Living on $18/hour while trying to cover food, utilities, and rent was unsustainable. “It’s impossible,” she said. So, she made a gut-wrenching decision: end her lease, give up her deposit, and move into her car—with her cat, Sam.

Life in a Car: Sacrifice, Strategy, and Survival

Maryann didn’t give up—she adapted. Parking at Market Basket to save gas, showering at the YMCA, and getting food from a pantry, she lived in her car from February to July.

“Market Basket had a few of us sleeping in our cars. We’d leave before dawn.” She parked away from the encampments of broken-down campers where families caught in generational addiction struggled to survive. “They’re not bad people,” she said, “but I couldn’t be their den mother anymore. They helped each other—but they’re stuck in a cycle that’s hard to break.”

Her compassion never wavered. She even collected food from the pantry for the children living in those campers. But she also faced risks—like the time someone asked to borrow her phone and approached her car smoking a pipe. “If the police had seen that,” she said, “I would’ve been arrested too.”

Losing More Than a Home: The Price of Being Visible

Maryann had almost saved enough to transition out of her car into a motel room. But then someone at work saw her cat in the car and reported it. That decision cost Maryann her job and her cat, Sam.

“It broke me,” she admitted. After losing her job and the one companion she’d clung to, she had no choice but to ask for help. That’s when she was referred to Monadnock Area Transitional Shelter (MATS).

Finding Support, But Carrying the Weight of Stigma

MATS helped Maryann with what she needed most: safe housing, car repairs, gas cards, and resume support. They gave her a lifeline. But Maryann still struggles with the stigma of being unhoused.

“Even when I was living in my car, I wasn’t like them,” she explained. “I don’t use drugs. I don’t have a mental illness. I make too much to qualify for assistance—but not enough to afford rent.”

Her story shatters stereotypes. Maryann is not alone. Millions of Americans earn too much to receive help, yet too little to stay housed. They are the hidden homeless—working full-time while sleeping in cars, navigating life between paychecks and public judgment.

What Maryann Wants You to Know

When asked what she hopes people take away from her story, Maryann’s answer was simple and profound:

“Don’t judge people. Don’t assume someone is a low-life just because they can’t afford rent.”

Shame is the shadow that follows the unhoused. “People look at you like you’re trash. But inside, I was screaming, ‘This is NOT who I am!’” Maryann’s experience reflects a truth we don’t hear enough: housing insecurity can happen to anyone. And the real shame is in a system that punishes people for needing help.

The Power of Choice—And Compassion

Maryann’s story ends on a sobering note. She reflects on the employer who fired her:

“He had a choice—to make my life 100% better or 100% worse. He chose worse.”

But others—like the team at MATS, the food pantry, and the supportive library staff—chose better. They chose to uplift her, not judge her. And that made all the difference.

What You Can Do: Be Part of the Solution

Maryann’s story is not just a cautionary tale—it’s a call to action.

• Support organizations like MATS, which provide transitional shelter, transportation support, and case management to individuals who are unhoused but striving for independence.

• Challenge your assumptions about who is homeless and why.

• Advocate for affordable housing policies that recognize the gap between wages and rent.

• Donate or volunteer your time, skills, or resources to organizations that make a difference.

Because behind every statistic is a story like Maryann’s—a story of resilience, dignity, and the simple wish to be seen and supported.

Let’s be the ones who choose compassion.