Darren

Growing up surrounded by his sisters, Darren Rojas spent a lot of time in foster care. He also dealt with his mother’s cancer diagnosis. Her medication affected her ability to know where she was or who she was, resulting in Rojas getting kicked out of the house quite often.

"When I was a kid, I wanted to die, but I always managed to find a way to live for my mom.”

Because his stepfather was in the Air Force, Rojas moved around a lot. And in an attempt to escape his heavily abusive stepfather, he ran away from home. His mother died when he was 17.

At 17, Rojas left his home in Santa Maria, California, to go to Portland, Oregon, and enlist in the army. He served for about a year and a half, ending early due to a knee injury that would have led to an amputation.

Rojas was discharged through entry-level separation, meaning he wasn’t discharged dishonorably, but didn’t have any benefits that usually come with an honorable discharge, including health insurance, disability compensation and so on.

Because he had to take care of his mother, Rojas didn’t graduate with his class and instead went to an adult continuation school with aspirations to get his diploma. His connection with his mother was strong.

After working a couple of odd jobs, Rojas met Debbie, his partner of many years, through a mutual acquaintance. He describes her as the kind of woman that could go anywhere and make a friend. An angel.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to die, but I always managed to find a way to live for my mom,” says Rojas. “And then as I got older, I still wanted to die, but I lived for my kids. And then I met Debbie, and I didn’t want to die anymore.”

March 23, 2023, Rojas lost Debbie to heart failure. And by April 14, he lost his home.

"I lost my wife, my home, my car… my everything in one shot."

Rojas’ family took what they wanted from his and Debby’s belongings of 20 years, leaving Rojas without funds that were supposed to pay for gas, car insurance and other daily utilities. He still has a couple of items from his relationship that are in a storage facility, but they run the risk of being taken away from him because he no longer has the money to pay for the storage and has nowhere else to store pictures, mementos and everything. His family is no longer in contact with him or live too far away.

“I lost my wife, my home, my car… my everything in one shot,” says the father of two, explaining that he places heavy value on family and his loved ones.

Eating every three to five days due to low funds, Rojas came to Chinatown because he says it’s where the food and help are, even though the other end of town, where he and Debbie used to live, was safer. Finding it hard to be around people who use drugs because of his family’s substance problems, he found it difficult to see the homeless around him who were incapacitated on a daily basis.

"I just need a sanctum sanctorum, and there is none when you’re homeless.”

In search of a job but struggling to find one that accommodates his disability, the jack-of-all-trades wants to work, but can’t find a job he can physically do. He doesn’t like to be around large groups of people and continues to have issues with mental health, such as depression, and now doesn’t have a buffer in his life that used to be Debbie, or pets.

“I just need a sanctum sanctorum, and there is none when you’re homeless,” explains Rojas, describing his need for a better or holier place. “I can’t even just go somewhere to be away from people anymore.”

Rojas’ faith is the biggest motivator in his life, and he continues to stay alive to stay true to his religion, go to heaven and not commit unforgivable sin.

"They don’t understand people with anxiety and depression, and how do you explain to them that you’re not lazy and want to work, but you just don’t want to be alive.”

Rojas was looking for a job as a personal driver and explained that he has a bubble of safety around him when he’s driving, and he has distance from other people. At the Navigation Center, the member of the housing program says that he doesn’t mind being around others because he’s more comfortable, but still yearns for privacy and in his living situation and work.

Debbie helped him through decision making and as more problems came to the surface, Rojas now lacks a supportive loved one in his life who understands him. The first time he had a panic attack, Debbie took him in to see a doctor to find out what it was, and that was the first time he had to face what was wrong with him.

“People don’t understand people with depression,” explains Rojas, who says that he was always okay if he had someone to care for and love, even though he says he doesn’t know how to care for himself. He says he wants people to know that there are others with mental health struggles. “They don’t understand people with anxiety and depression, and how do you explain to them that you’re not lazy and want to work, but you just don’t want to be alive.”

"A lot of times, people just think you’re scum, you’re homeless so you must be a thief, you must be a drug addict, you must be a fuck up."

The Salinas denizen also finds misconceptions in how people treat the homeless, explaining that some people think the homeless are there because of their own mess-ups and that they all want to be homeless, and that some people do, not wanting to abide by societal norms or live and be normal enough to make others happy, but some people just break.

“A lot of times, people just think you’re scum, you’re homeless so you must be a thief, you must be a drug addict, you must be a fuck up,” says Rojas, explaining that he messed up here and there, but most of his problems were borne of circumstance. “The love of my life died. My support group died. My home was taken… I had no say, no choice.”

Before Debbie’s death, the couple had plans to open a business, found out that a grant and a loan were possible and were about to move, get a trailer and find a plot of land to settle down on to be around his family.

When asked what message he wants to share, Rojas has a simple answer: Treat homeless people like humans, not a taboo, because it could help them. And that people don’t become unpleasant to be around as a product of a happy life.

“We’re human beings. We’re people. We love, we hurt.”

Rojas continues with his belief that people are put on earth for a reason, no matter how small their role might be, so just hold on and be the change.