When my company asked me to take on a special mission—advocating for our veterans and speaking out about the devastating budget cuts—I knew I couldn’t say no. This was bigger than me.
The shift hasn’t been easy. My day-to-day focus on life has changed, and this mission has bled into my personal world in ways I didn’t expect. But when it comes to standing for veterans, I refuse to draw lines between work and life. The two are one and the same.
I’ve chosen to take this mission head on, carrying the weight, the stories, and the responsibility with me. Because our veterans deserve more than silence—they deserve a voice, they deserve advocacy, and they deserve unwavering commitment.
Homelessness is not just a statistic—it is a lived reality that reshapes the way we see ourselves, our community, and our future. For me, it is not an abstract policy debate; it is a deeply personal journey I have faced at different points in my life, once at 18 years old and again at 28. Each chapter carried its own struggles, but also its own lessons about resilience, accountability, and the urgent need for systemic change.
At 18 years old, I felt the sting of instability for the first time. I was couch surfing across Jackson County due to issues I do not have the time to repeat currently. That instability became my first hard lesson in survival—navigating nights from one friend’s house to another, never certain what tomorrow would look like. The unexpected was discovered during those three months, I was introduced to the Ho-Chunk Nation, where I learned not only about resourcefulness but also about community—the value of support when everything else feels uncertain.
That sense of community drew me to enlisting in the military, where structure, discipline, and responsibility reshaped my path in profound ways. The Army provided me with a sense of direction and purpose, instilling values that would guide me throughout my life; however, it also revealed just how fragile stability could be, even for those who proudly wear the uniform. Each day brought both challenges and camaraderie, highlighting the bonds formed under pressure and the realities of uncertainty that accompany military life. The lessons learned in times of adversity taught me resilience, while the connections made with fellow soldiers underscored the importance of support and unity in navigating adversities, reinforcing the idea that, amid chaos, community is a vital lifeline.
A decade later, at 28, I found myself navigating homelessness once again right after my move to Madison. This time, I spent three long months couch surfing amongst those who I considered family, each day a reminder of the uncertainty and instability that had crept back into my life. I often found solace in small moments, like sharing laughter over late-night snacks or reminiscing about the past, but the underlying stress of my situation weighed heavily on me. Finally, after what felt like an endless search, I was relieved to secure an apartment of my own. It was a cycle I never thought I would repeat, but one that reminded me how thin the line is between stability and crisis, and how quickly life’s circumstances can shift, forcing us to adapt and find resilience in the most challenging of times.
Today, those safety nets are unraveling for countless veterans across Wisconsin. Budget cuts are forcing vital housing and recovery programs to close their doors—programs that have been lifelines for those transitioning out of service or struggling with the lasting impacts of war. These programs not only provide essential shelter but also offer invaluable mental health services, connections to employment opportunities, and a community that understands the unique challenges veterans face. In Madison, where the homelessness crisis is already visible in our streets and shelters, the loss of veteran-specific support will push more of my brothers and sisters into the uncertainty I know all too well. It is deeply concerning to witness the increasing number of veterans without access to the resources they desperately need, leading to a cycle of despair that could easily have been avoided. As we navigate these difficult times, it is crucial that we advocate for the restoration of funding and support for these essential programs, ensuring that our brave men and women receive the care and respect they deserve.
From the teachings I once leaned on within the Ho-Chunk Nation to the kindness of friends who gave me a couch to rest on, I learned that survival is rarely a solo act—it is built on community. This fundamental truth resonates even more deeply when reflecting on the sacrifices made by our veterans. They often navigate their challenges in a society that can feel distant and uncaring. Now more than ever, our veterans need compassion, solidarity, and programs that put humanity before politics, recognizing their unique experiences and the complex struggles they face. By fostering a strong network of support that emphasizes understanding and connection, we can create an environment where veterans feel valued and understood, ultimately paving the way for healing and reintegration into community life.
When I go visit the homeless veterans at Grant Per Diem in Madison or at the Rock Valley Community Program in Janesville, I don’t just see struggle—I see community. I see the willingness to help one another, even when resources are limited, and the determination to lift each other up so no one is left behind.
It’s a reminder that resilience isn’t just about surviving—it’s about connection. These veterans, despite their hardships, are showing us what it means to create a circle of support where everyone matters, and where each step forward is a shared victory. That’s the kind of community we should all be striving for. One where the mission is clear: to get each and every one of them back on their feet.
Homelessness is not a partisan issue. It is not a veteran issue alone. It is a human issue that affects people from all walks of life, regardless of their background or circumstances. No one who has served this country should ever be left without a place to call home. The sacrifices made by our service members deserve recognition and support, yet we see an alarming number of veterans struggling to find stability and security.
A jaw dropping statistic has been put in my scoop, according to National Coalition for Homeless Veterans & the US Department of Housing and Urban Development’s PIT county, the estimate of veterans experiencing homelessness on a single night is 32,882. It is imperative that we come together as a community to advocate for comprehensive solutions that address the root causes of homelessness, ensuring that every individual has access to the resources they need to rebuild their lives and secure a brighter future.
Call to Action
If this reflection resonates with you, I encourage you to take action to create meaningful change. Contact your legislators and emphasize the need for funding and support for veteran housing programs. Support local nonprofits that provide shelter and resources, ensuring veterans don’t feel abandoned. Attend community meetings to share your voice and personal stories about these programs. Donate your time, volunteer with organizations helping veterans, or share these important stories within your networks. By raising awareness, we can build a community dedicated to supporting our heroes. Together, we can remind decision-makers that veterans deserve stability, dignity, and a safe place to call home, which is their fundamental right.