The Change Starts With You

     In our observation, we've noticed that individuals suffering from social complexities of homelessness, displacement, lack of encouragement, and support need to have resources introduced in a manner that's slightly different from one another because each situation is different.. Therefore, it's our duty to lead adults in the direction where relatable resources are effectively made available and suitable to first mentally meet them where they are in their development. Needless to say, that programs such as ABPOL are beneficial  and necessary for day to day functioning. The goal is to work hard to help overcome the system of  homelessness concerns to build better communities by helping to shape and mold the individuals who is in them. We understand that it can be challenging for some to get the help they need due to the lack of providers in their area or the lack of knowing that HELP exist.

      In an supportive effort to make sure each person gets the help they need, ABPOL INC. offers shared housing and other  comprehensive support services to those individuals in need. Every case and every situation is an urgency to us. Our targeted goals are to:

Reduce the number of individuals/households who become homeless by providing front-door shelter diversion services and homeless prevention assistance.

Shortening the length of time an individual or household experiences homeless by quickly connecting them to safe permanent housing.

Reduce the number of people that return to homelessness by ensuring households are connected to income supports, natural support networks, and community-based resources.

Limit the transmission and negative health impacts of COVID-19 for people experiencing homelessness.

             These Are The Stories From Victims Who Were Kind Enough To Share Their Traumatic Experiences With Us. Destruction As a Child can Lead to a Displaced Adult

    The trauma of abuse is never fully gone from a person's consciousness. It's filthy stain leaves it's residue on the soul forever. However, like all bad experiences, it is possible to turn this experience into good by developing compassion and empathy for self and others who have been through this experience. Many people feel that bringing meaning to a traumatic experience is a path to healing but people like me that suffers from  mental abuse try to turn a negative experience into something positive that will brings meaning into our lives. Some of us look for our abuser later in life just to get back that revenge... and most times it doesn't end well.  The child always suffer.
Brian C., Texas ( now serving life in prison for the murder of his abuser)

       
Too many times I have used my smile to trick people into thinking everything was okay with me, but in reality, it felt like everything was falling apart. I tried showing others that I was happy, but there was still something inside of me that continued eating away at my smile. I was abused physically, mentally and emotionally by family members that came to live with my parents and I. Today I'm still recovering from all of the insults and names I was called. I'm 19 years old now and most would think that I would by over the pain," I will never be over it. " I spend most of my time alone and when I do try to engage with others I feel embarrassed because it feels like I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. In my head I believe that everyone is watching and they all know what happen to me as a child' so I shy away. Nowadays, my only person I really feel safe around is me.
Vincent Y., Ohio


     Another bad day when nothing went right. The minute he laid eyes on me I knew he saw nothing but red. As always, he would remind me of how stupid I was for be a girl child. He said he never wanted any children at all and when I came I made things even worst. When Mom passed away, I was hoping that someone else would take me in, but of coarse that didn't happen. At the time I was only 7 years old. Not old enough to make my own decisions, but I surely had some good ideas about running away, So I tried. Unfortunately, one of his friends caught me at the end of our dead end street. I didn't get far. Later that day while eating dinner, he begin to yelling for no reason at all. He picked up his plate and threw it across the room. I was terrified ! I thought that night I would die. Instead he went into the basement and stayed there all night. Silently I got up from the table and went into my lonely room hoping to fall asleep quickly. That didn't happen because I was too terrified to close my eyes. Finally I fell off to sleep. Early that morning, I wondered why he didn't come to my room as he usually do to yell  'get your lazy ass out of the bed, you should've went to sleep early enough!' I slowly walked to his bedroom and pressed my ear against the door trying to listen for his snores but I heard nothing. I eased open the door all to find the man that never wanted me had swallowed two bottles of pills and killed himself. After all the traumatizing, loud yelling, name calling every day and night I was happy that he killed himself and not me. My life remains bitter sweet and sometimes I actually find myself looking forward to the torture. At least I'm still alive ! My therapy sessions have increased due to my two suicide attempts on my own life, I've been on several psych wards inside of a hospital outside of my town. I now reside here at a place where they say is for friends like me and they are going to get me all better, but I don't know what that means. 
Melanie N., P.A.


      Out of rage, he would put his hands over my mouth and around my throat. Out of endearment he ran his fingers through my hair, while whispering sweet things in my ear. He said things I knew he couldn't have meant . One beat my body, the other beat my soul. While I fought to free myself from his tight grip and what seemed like a spellbind, I felt as if I was slowly passing out. When he decided to let me go and pushing me to the floor, he never forgot to add on how much of a slut I was. Many times he would use his boot to pin me to the floor and dare me to break away. Sometimes I thought my hear would just stop beating . Until now I don't know who was the bigger monster, his hands or his words.
Sonja H., Maryland