‘Gypsy Rose Up’ from living on the streets of Portland to security of apartment

‘Gypsy Rose Up’ from living on the streets of Portland to security of apartment

For the rest of us, it’s a bare spot on the side of the road, near Southeast 75th and Powell.

For Sabrina Tomeoni, it was six years of her life, living in a tent, hiding her belongings from thieves, having her tent slashed with a knife. Being shot at by passersby.

And then there’s the drugs. She did plenty. Many of her fellow campers resorted to fentanyl, which she calls “the blues.” She showed us the memorial where her friend Rene died.

“It only takes just one hit, and that’s why I’m so glad I became sober before the blues hit the streets, because I was the one — I wanted to die; the whole camp knew that and just kept wondering, how are you still alive? You should be dead after what you’ve been doing. But I just couldn’t die,” said Sabrina.

And when you hear Sabrina’s history, you may also wonder how she survived. She tells of coming from a family of Roma gypsies and living in a bad orphanage in Bulgaria until she was adopted and brought to the U.S. at age 7.

A rough relationship, and three kids later, Sabrina found herself on the streets in her 20s.

Her children lived elsewhere. She hit rock bottom, didn’t care if she lived or died, and stole things. Like the tent she was living in.

“I wish I could take it back, because I’ve learned how to just pay for what I want. If I can’t afford it, it’s not going to come home with me that day. If I want something, I’ve got to set the money aside and work with that. No more stealing. I’m going to have to work for everything I’ve got. Work hard.”

But you might be surprised to hear what finally turned things around for her, the spark that caused her to want to leave the streets. An epiphany, maybe? Well, a tooth infection.

Sabrina said her raging infection forced her to stop doing drugs. Because the drugs would make her heart race, ramping up the tooth pain. She was able to get surgery and from that day forward the drugs were done.

A short time later, a Cascadia health street outreach worker approached Sabrina’s camp.

“And she said, ‘Is anybody here sober and looking for a home?’ Everybody pointed to me, and I realized there’s a reason I had to get sober, and that’s when I realized hope was there. And she said, ‘I’m going to come back.’ And she sure enough did. A couple weeks later. And that two-week waiting period — I thought she forgot about me. I thought it was too good to be true. And she came back and said, ‘Here’s a list of apartments, which one do you want?’”

So after six years of wondering whether she’d make it through the night, how long before she’d get robbed again, where she would find a place to wash her hair, what kind of clothes she’d find in the dumpster, life has taken a miraculous turn.

She’s now living in an apartment with two of her children.

“Wonderful, wonderful. That’s my safety, that’s my shelter, and a second chance with my children. So, it’s our redemption. Does that make sense? Like we were redeemed here. Like everything that happened — all the choices — it can be turned around and be blessed. If you turn it around,” said Sabrina.

And she hasn’t forgotten where she came from. She drives by that spot, along 75th and Powell, every day.

“I do a loop; when the kids go to school, I just come and drive and see if there’s any new homeless people. I can spot the new ones and make sure they’re OK. Sometimes I have Top Ramens or waters.”

And she makes it her mission to tell her fellow campers about the resources available out there. The same ones that allowed her to get off the streets. She’s even written a book about her experience called “Gypsy Rose Up.”

“‘Gypsy Rose up’ — Gypsy, because I’m Roma gypsy; Rose, because I came from the country of Bulgaria — the country of roses — adopted into Portland, Oregon, City of Roses. Up, because instead of staying down, I got back up. You like that?”

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